PTE

LO'S

ld against the chaotic noise of the city fifteen floors below. Tonigh

ale moonlight from the floor-to-ceiling glass balcony lit her up. Her skin had an almost ethereal translucency. It looked porcelain-pure yet entire

ng in my house?" I asked. My voice carried

llowed the movement of my lips. She blinked slowly

I marched over and threw the shirt at her. It landed on her head and then slid down to cover her bare shoulders. She did not

ssed my arms over my chest. She kept st

d. It was a defense mechanism. In truth, my heart was hammering against my ribs. I was an author who wrote dark romance

ot a single sound came

ew louder as real frustration washed over me. I did not tolerate secur

dibly slow and melodic but hesitant. She sounded like someone tastin

sharp breath. "Put on the shirt I gave you so we can have a p

er to give her privacy. I started count

ed with unnatural and terrifying silence. Before I could notice the

her again. The shirt was still draped useless

she asked slowly. Her head

at echoed off the minimalist walls. "Don't tell me you don't know how to put o

tience. I grabbed the collar

her head. The moment my fingers touched her skin, a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between us. She was burning hot. Her body temperature was muc

d a beautiful and flawlessly sculpted body. Her cu

gelo, what the hel

nce. But no matter how hard I tried to focus on her face, my eyes kept drifting down to the s

t were you doing earlier?" she asked. Her voice kept th

to me again!" I complained loudly and gestured wildly toward my laptop on the dining table. Maga was a gorgeous model I had tracked in college but got rejected

d my hand down my face and sat down right there on

d from annoyed to deadly serious. "Tell me, who are you exactly, and how did you ge

nted toward the far end of the room. Her finger

ony," she said simply. Her expre

alcony? My apartment is on the fifteenth floor! How is it physically poss

or admit she was a cat burglar with a grappl

I scoffed and pushed my

but steady. "I also have no idea how I transfo

d anything as ridiculous as this in my entire life! A bird? What, di

eadable eyes. The silence stretched between us, heavy and solemn. It slowly drained the hum

ensive smirk appeared on my lips. She had to be an ac

p toward me. "When I got drenched in the rain last night. You found me sh

my face at once. My br

ut across my neck. I

, unusually little white bird with iridescent silver-tipped feathers collapsed on my outdoor chair. It was soaked and trembling. Feeling a rare moment of pity

alcony was completely private, shielded by high f

trained to accept the impossible and build worlds from myths. But experiencing it in real life was completely different. "I will listen to what you have to sa

oot to foot. She was tugging at the hem of my t-shirt and pulling i

y clean laundry basket and pulled out a pair of g

to them carefully and pulled the drawstring tight around her tiny

edge of my king-sized bed in the open-concept loft a

walking on fragile twigs instead of solid ground. She sat o

the new language and tone," she hinted. Her eyes moved ar

iously and turned my body to face her fully. "F

no idea where I came from," she

on't have a name, and you have no idea where you came from? Great. P

. "When I hatched, I was completely alone in the nest. I waited for days... and days... but my family never showed up. I learned t

into place. For the past month, a beautiful, unique white bird had visited my balcony

ll, tentative spark of h

to do with you. I can't take you to an orphanage because you are physically an adult. I can't take you to the police because what wo

ked down at her human hands and flexed her long, slender fingers. "But now... I don't even