Before The Coffee Gets Cold Series Order Novels & Stories

I state with a laugh at just how cute she looks in a beanie. “I take forever to drink things, so If I get hot coffee it eventually becomes cold because I take so long to drink it so if it’s cold from the beginning I don’t have to rush.” She answers with a somewhat valid answer. We mange to get through class without falling asleep we had a late night last night after a dinner date and everything that followed.

But right now, it felt like she was running out of it. Her third cup of coffee sat beside her, now cold. She took a sip anyway, wincing slightly at the bitter taste, but grateful for the caffeine. She'd started with her usual cappuccino hours ago, then moved on to plain black coffee when fatigue began settling in her bones. Now, she wasn’t sure if the shakes in her hands were from nerves or caffeine overload.

test? I stood at the counter, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee swirling around me. The barista called out my order, and I took a deep breath, my mind racing. I placed my order, the warmth of the cup a comforting counterpoint to the turmoil within me. As I stepped onto the elevator, the steaming mug clutched in my hand.

The muscles remember the motion even if the feeling is unfamiliar. Sera stands back up. Her face is doing something complex. Not warm. Not cold. Processing. Running variables. "Coffee?" she asks me. The word is careful. Measured. An olive branch the size of a toothpick. "Yes. Thank you." She pours. Sets it on the counter in front of me. A plain mug with a chip on the rim. The coffee is better than anything I've had since leaving Seattle in December. It tastes like the shop next door, like wood smoke and rain and a life that's been lived inside these walls.

Or, that’s how he looked. “Please tell me we’re stopping for coffee.” “There’s coffee in the cooler.” “Hot coffee, four eyes. The kind that doesn’t taste like shame and regret the morning after a one-night stand.” he turned and winked at me. I just shook my head. Silas sighed but didn’t argue, pulling into a drive-through coffee place a few blocks away. We ordered. Silas had his usual black coffee, I had a caramel latte with extra cream and chocolate sauce, and Kyler's absurdly complicated order that had the barista repeating it back twice to make sure she got it right. But, with the way she was fumbling over her words, I think she was fighting it hard to ask for an autograph on her tits.

I felt the warmth of a lone tear escape my eye and leaving its trail all the way to my hairline as my eyes wavered and my eyelids closed when the last breath left my mouth. To be continued…. *Dear reader. If you have enjoyed reading The cold one - part 1, feel free to leave a review or rating with your thoughts, and thank you for choosing to read my book. Be sure to find out what happens in The cold one’s part 2 - The hunters rise.

RHYS The coffee tastes like poison. I’m standing at the windows in my penthouse watching the sun come up over Seattle. I haven’t slept since Monday night because every time I close my eyes I feel it again, that electric shock when I grabbed her arms. I down the rest of the coffee even though it’s cold now and I set the mug on the counter and it cracks down the middle. That’s the third one this week. My wolf is pacing, showing me flashes of her face, her scent, the way her pulse jumped when I touched her.

I can feel the steam from my ears going red. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he raises a brow, finally breaking the awkward silence between us. Naturally, my hand moves, adjusting the coffee towards him, but I don’t say a word. With his gaze still on me, he leans forward, grabs the coffee, presses it against his lips, but doesn’t even take a sip. “It’s cold, Rookie. Dispose of it…” “W—What?” I blurt out. “I woke up at five to make that for you; you’ll drink it!”

After Mr. Tucker said that, I had no choice but to endure the freezing air for the entire morning. I shivered nonstop, my teeth chattering. When noon finally arrived, I went downstairs to buy some cold medicine. As I passed the coffee machine, I barely raised my hand. I wasn't even touching it when it suddenly sprayed scalding coffee at me, just like in my last life. I tried again and again, cautiously reaching out. Every time my hand got close, the machine would fire with uncanny precision, splashing boiling coffee onto the back of my hand.

She picked up her own mug, turned toward the window, and looked out at the grey morning sky. “Sera” “You should drink your coffee before it gets cold.” Silence filled the kitchen. Long and thick and strange. She heard him stand. Heard the familiar sound of his shoes against the hardwood, the same sound she had woken up to for four years, that she had found comforting, that now felt like a countdown. She hears him pause somewhere behind her. She did not turn around. The front door opened. It closed. And Sera Calloway stood alone in the kitchen of the home she had tried so hard to make warm, fingers wrapped around a mug that was growing colder by the second, and stared at nothing at all.