Untreed Reads Publishing
Bryl R. Tyne
An unconventional guardian angel attempts to keep his gay charge from committing suicide, while wrestling with his own personal issues. This is the first in the Zagzagel Diaries series.
Just do it . . . .
Above the nineteenth floor, on the verge of his nineteenth birth date, he stepped up onto the ledge, steadied his balance. Perspiration and tears trickled evenly along his chiseled face.
Eyes, once stunning blue, dulled with each spent teardrop.
Perched less than a shoulder's width away, I listened. His most private thoughts were not immune to me or my prying. Lord—meant with the utmost respect, of course—the man was a work of art. Absolutely beyond compare.
As was his pain, or so he thought.
I had endured far worse, though not mortal, than anything he was capable of imagining.
Agony and confusion engulfed him, inflamed his need for relief. Forsaken—he privately professed.
Obviously, I'd failed at instilling my fine wrangling spirit.
Feathers ruffled. My shoulders tightened. Apparently, my guidance wasn't worth a flip these days. With a stretch and a snap, loose underlining flew in the air about me, fluttering, drifting on the breeze. Despite knowing the young man's agony, his naivety sickened me.
Try living the pain of ten thousand lifetimes, I desperately wished to tell him.
What I wouldn't give for an hour in his shoes, fifteen minutes inside that skin-tight material covering such perfectly honed thighs. He was so beautiful, so mortal, so intelligent—
"Just. One. Step." As his garbling knocked me from my reverie, his right foot slipped.
All right. I concede—he was a fucking moron.