7 Heavenly Breaths Novels & Stories

But the pain of that lingers, growing stronger by the second. Her ribs throb painfully, her spine demanding a shift that doesn’t occur as her pulse drums in her ears. For some terrifying minute, Heaven feels like she would split in two. Her jaw tightens. And she forces herself to breathe slowly. “Yes, keep breathing,” Freck urges. “Why won’t it come out or go in?” Heaven asks, much in pain, about to cry. “Your pleasure drew it out, but it isn’t enough to fully let it free. You need something more intense.”

"I'm going to make some coffee. By midday, they were on the outskirts Cawlin, and the weather had turned from the bright blue sky with rolling clouds to dark grey sky and hung with sulphurous black clouds. "Looks like we are in for a storm," Gabriel said as he drove through the town. The sea was dark, and the waves were crashing. The beach was empty, but the gulls were strutting up and down, cawing to each other like fishwives. Millie closed her eyes and began her deep breathing exercises. She had to calm herself. Breathe in for seven, hold for four, breathe out for five. She had never told anyone how terrified of a storm she was. It was so embarrassing. Most people she knew, loved storms an

I was no longer at the mercy of my own emotions; I was their steward. I drifted forward—or perhaps the world shifted beneath me—but I felt progress. The air pressed against me, real yet alien, filled with scents I had almost forgotten: cold wood, damp earth, iron, pine. Each one a whisper of life I had left behind, a reminder that I was not dead, not gone. The pull grew stronger. My Sovereignty coiled, waiting to guide me, ready to carry me safely across the threshold, back to align with my body–my human flesh.

, he growls into my core, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through my body. "Deeeer…" I moan, dragging his name three syllables too long. His fingers still working me, and… holy fuck. Where does a man learn this kind of sorcery? The headboard rattles. My vision whites out. I'm screaming. Floating. Dying. "Why…" I gasp at the ceiling, "…am I…" His tongue stops. No. Why? My hips jerk, chasing his damn tongue. He can't stop. I'll break if he stops.

The air thrummed with ancient energy, making the fine hairs on her nape stand on end. "Breathe deeply and open your mind, divine one," Zephyra instructed, her voice taking on a hypnotic cadence. "Embrace the flow of power that seeks to fill your spirit. Let it suffuse every cell of your being until you are reborn in primal radiance."

He lay back on the mattress, arms folded behind his head, staring at the underside of the bunk above. No escape today. No confrontation. Just… silence. And for the first time since he’d arrived at BludHeaven, the silence didn’t feel like a cage. It felt like breathing room. He closed his eyes. Listened to the distant crash of waves against the cliffs he couldn’t climb. And let himself wonder—just for a second—if maybe they’d heard him after all. If maybe they were backing off. If maybe—just maybe—some part of this was starting to be real.

Heaven had been staring without attempting to join them in the bed. Her two-year-old daughter had been like that. Never smiled since she was born, never been happy nor sad, but could easily be offended. Her nature on the side of emotions was different from a human’s and even a creature's. Heaven was different. Meanwhile, Eaven was the perkiest, chirpy, and most playful baby she'd ever seen.

A few extra steps would leave me gasping for breath. Even the normal amount of alcohol that other people enjoyed could cause my artificial heart to fail. I lifted my head to meet Bryan’s gaze and forced out a smile. “I suppose that means I won’t have to repay the $200,000.” Bryan froze in shock. His eyes were blazing with fury beneath the bone-chilling cold. He gritted his teeth and snapped, “Fine!” When I heard his reply, I smiled faintly. Then, I grabbed a bottle and downed it in one gulp.

my grandmother gasped and clutched at her chest. My mother bent her head and quietly sobbed into her handkerchief. “What else aren't you telling us? Isn't Heaven out of surgery? Where is she?” my father said coldly. I clenched my fists at his overbearing tone. How would I tell them that Heaven is pregnant and in a coma? “Heaven…” Sensing my hesitation, Grandma grew more agitated. “Why aren't you saying anything? What's wrong with Heaven?” Taking a deep breath, I could only say, “Heaven fell into a…a coma.”

Abigail said, barely above a whisper. Sky stepped forward and slipped her cloak from her shoulders. No weapon remained on her. No talisman. No borrowed focus. Just her. Her hair fell freely. Her hands held nothing. And beneath the earth, a small tremor answered. “Focus on your breathing,” Sky murmured. “Not your eyes. Not the magic. Let yourselves feel what the world forgot.” She closed her eyes and began to breathe—slowly. Not casting. Not summoning. Not commanding. Simply being.