Novels by Ava C. Torres

The silver-blue bonds were still there when the new chapter of us began.They did not fade or loosen. If anything, they grew more deliberate, living threads of light weaving themselves around our bodies with reverent precision. They traced my wrists, his shoulders, our waists, and ankles, spiraling upward in slow, graceful arcs until they crowned us both in a luminous halo. Not chains of restraint, but of belonging.I could feel him now.Not just his warmth beneath my hands, but the rhythm of his heart—strong, uneven, stubbornly human—echoing through me as if it had always been meant to. Every sensation arrived at once: heat and cold, gravity and weightlessness, pain braided with wonder. His thoughts brushed the edges of my mind, not words exactly, but impres

Slowly, Ashford reached into the leather bag at his side and set several small journals and books onto the table, their pages marked with post-its and notes crammed into the margins. Finally, he placed a small box on top.My brows pulled tight. "What's all this?"His gaze never left mine."Recollections of you. Through the years... through centuries." Then, with a voice low enough to shake me to my core, he added, "Lilith."I froze, breath caught in my throat. My blood went cold. Hearing that name from him—my real name—was like being stripped bare in the middle of the room.We did not move. His eyes pinned me in place, unblinking, certain. And for the first time in so long, I was afraid. Properly afraid.I forced myself to open one of the notebooks, then another, skimming words that were not meant for me to read. Men and women describing her—me—in scrawls of obsession. A woman of impossible beauty, described the same way, century after century. Politicians, nobles, peasants, even book

The lock rattled again, sharp and insistent."Please," Ashford's voice came through, low, urgent. "Let me in. I just need to talk."I pressed my back harder against the door, my fingers trembling against the wood. My heart hammered—not just from fear, but from the unnameable heat that pulsed beneath my skin. "I... I can't," I whispered, my voice cracking despite my attempt at calm."You're hurt," he said, soft, almost pleading. "I can see it. The silver... it burns, doesn't it?"My breath caught. Please—let him not piece together what he saw and the stories he knows.My wolf shifted restlessly beneath my skin, but the silver had left more than just

A week slipped by, slow and heavy.The real challenge was the pub itself. Every night I had to adapt to the strange environment, to the objects that were mine to manage yet subtly alien. Silver cutlery, plates with faintly embossed symbols, relics from long before the current owner had taken over—some pieces raw with history, forged in the days when witches had once lingered here. I burned my fingers on them the first few nights.Rapid as shadow, silent as a ghost, I replaced every object I touched during the nights. New metal or porcelain plates, clean cutlery, polished glasses—everything that bore a trace of history, silver or danger, found its way back into the night's careful rotation.By the end of the week, I moved through the pub as though it were my o

For days, I shut myself away in my room, the heavy curtains drawn, the world outside reduced to muted shadows. No one to check on me, after I had told Rowan to leave me alone. No excuses left to abandon the sanctuary I had built around my despair. There were knocks at the door, faint at first, hesitant, almost polite. I did not respond. It was him. I knew it. No voice followed.I stayed curled on my bed, knees drawn to my chest, shivering beneath the weight of my own body. I tried to stay awake, because sleep meant surrender to dreams of them, feeling their arms wrap around me, their whispers curling through my mind, pulling me closer, taking me with every ounce of desire and need they carried for me.Where was the four-hundred-year-old woman who had survived plague, war, betrayal, uncounted wolf packs, and witches? Where was

When I finally rose to leave for my dorm, Julian's shadow fell over me without warning. Before I could step aside, his hand closed around my arm and he wrenched me back, the force of it stealing my breath.My chest hit his, my balance wobbling."Where the fuck you think you're going?" His voice was low, shaking with something he was trying to suppress. He did not care who saw. His eyes blazed, stormy and alive."Did you sleep with him?" he snarled. Then, lower, uglier, each word bitten off like a wound, "Did my father fuck you?"I froze, then spat my rage."Are you out of your bloody mind? Both of you lied, mocked me, played me like a bloody fool. And now you think—" My voice dropped, colder than ice. "No. I haven't slept with either of you. A few fingers, a blowjob, does not make someone yours. Fucking deal with that."He staggered back slightly, jaw tight, hands trembling at his sides. I could see it in the way his chest rose and fell, the way his lips pressed together like he was t