Blade Of Wind And Thunder Novels & Stories

Maya Collins never expected one reckless night to destroy her life. But when she wakes in the bed of her cold, commanding boss, Ray Cole, panic takes over. It should have been forgotten—a slip lost to the fog of alcohol—but Ray’s piercing eyes tell her he remembers everything. “You remember last night, don’t you?” His voice cuts like a blade, leaving her breathless. From that moment, Maya is trapped. Her job at the Cole Group is slipping through her fingers, her personal life is spiraling, and Ray refuses to let her go. Instead, he gives her a task that’s as dangerous as it is strange: find the owner of a silver angel pendant… or lose everything. Time is ticking. Every step drags her deeper into Ray’s world—one built on secrets, betrayal, and ruthless power. And every heated encounter between them only blurs the line between fear and forbidden desire. His touch is fire, his kiss a threat, his presence a cage she both hates and craves. But when the truth of the pendant begins to unravel, Maya realizes she’s not just solving a mystery. She’s standing at the edge of ruin, where one wrong choice could cost her freedom, her heart, and maybe her life. And the worst part? The man she should run from is the only one she can’t resist.

After Princess Winona Green abandons me at the border's military camp for five years, she finally remembers my existence and decides to bring me home. When a dozen or so carriages that are laden with wedding gifts arrive at the military camp, Winona's expression is filled with unbridled smugness. "I did tell you that once I gave birth to Shane's child, I'd marry you, Gideon. See? I didn't lie to you at all. Today, I've personally come to the border just to pick you up." Then, Winona approaches me haughtily. "Shane might be a musician, but I've already sired the oldest child with him. It's only reasonable for him to be made an equal consort, just like you, the son of an official." I merely frown without saying anything. All I do is look at Winona. She lets out a sigh before walking toward me again. "I know that you've been hopelessly waiting for me for the past five years, Gideon. That's why I traveled all the way to this barren wasteland just to prove my sincerity to you. In half a month, we shall get married." The sight of Winona immersed in her own fantasy of fake devotion makes me chuckle coldly. "Seize them!" How dare Winona make me, the general of the border, fight with a mere musician over her affections! Does she really think that my blade is just a decoration?

My husband, Julian Sutton, is busy with work on the day of my prenatal checkup. His childhood sweetheart, Vera Levine, with whom he's been amorous for years, offers to drive me. On the way there, she suddenly swerves and rams into the back of a truck. The car is flattened. Julian is a doctor in the emergency room, but I don't call him. Instead, I dial 911 and wait for assistance. Why? I called him in my past life, and he took me to the hospital. Our child was saved, but Vera died due to significant blood loss. Julian claimed not to blame me and even arranged for me to stay in a private hospital ward. But on the day I was discharged, he dragged me to Vera's grave and stabbed me. I lost the child and was on the verge of death as I stared into his bloodshot eyes. They were filled with unbridled hatred as he snarled, "Vera wouldn't have died if you hadn't grabbed the wheel! Don't think I'll believe you just because you're acting innocent! An eye for an eye—I want you to die for her, but only after experiencing the pain she felt in a hundredfold!" He twisted the blade and stabbed me repeatedly. My blood splattered on Vera's gravestone, dying it red. When I open my eyes again, I find that I've been taken back to the scene of the accident.

I’m a mortal priestess, but a Tartarus death curse is killing me. The only cure is a Golden Apple from Olympus, which blooms once a century to purify a soul. But my soulmate—Zale, son of Poseidon—snatched my apple away. He fed it to my sister, Melora, just to heal a minor magical burn. I abandoned my final treatments at the Temple of Apollo. Instead, I drank a vial of Lethe poison, laced with water from the Styx. It silences all pain. The price? In three days, my soul will turn to ash. No afterlife. No reincarnation. In my final three days on earth, I let everything go. I gave my Healing Temple to Melora. My parents, the high priests, smiled in relief. When Zale drew the Blade of Olympus to sever our soulmate bond, I gladly offered my heart's blood. He stroked my cheek and praised my “generosity.” As if I’d finally learned my lesson. I pushed my son, Philon, toward Melora and told him to call her “Mom.” He cheered and threw himself into her arms, crying out that her lullabies were sweeter. I gave up everything. None of them even noticed I was dying. They just looked at me proudly. "Our Kressa has finally learned her place." But I can't help wondering... when I fade into stardust forever, will they even remember me?

I was sent to evaluate him. Now, he’s the one judging my soul. As a psychologist for the Pacific Behavioral Unit, I deal with the most dangerous shifters in the Territories. But Mason Cross isn’t just a prisoner. He’s the King of the West Coast, a lethal Alpha with emerald eyes that don’t just look at me—they strip me bare. One mistake in a silver-lined cell, and I’m no longer the doctor. I’m the prey. When a night at the Velvet Moon turns into a bloodbath, Mason doesn't just save me—he claims me. He hauls me to his brutalist fortress on the cliffs, a world of glass, salt, and ancient wolf laws. He says he’s protecting me from the Lunar Syndicate. He says I’m his prisoner for my own safety. But as his hands find the curve of my waist and his teeth graze the pulse point of my throat, I realize the "Mask of Civility" is slipping. Behind the tailored suits and the CEO title is a beast that hasn't fed in a long time. I have a silver blade in my stays and a secret in my blood that could burn the Territories to the ground. But when the moon rises over the Cross Estate, I don’t want to run. I want to see if the King of the Ferals bites as hard as he barks. High stakes. Raw instinct. A love that draws blood.

Just because his first love's younger brother accidentally fell into Shadow River, my Alpha mate, Ethan Horn, forced me, the only Spirit Soother of our pack, to go and rescue him. When I sank to the bottom of the river, I chose not to save him. When the man was pulled out of the river, the healer lamented, "If it were a few minutes earlier, Leo might have been saved. What a pity." Ethan's first love, Serafina Pike, had her wolf soul shut off and soon passed away because she missed her younger brother, Leo Pike. From that moment on, Ethan, who had once loved me, hated me to the core. Without giving me a chance to explain, he slit my throat with a silver blade and ruthlessly sealed my wolf soul. Later, he believed the heresy of the witch about soul sacrifice and nailed me and our young daughter in coffins before burying us alive by Shadow River as sacrifices to resurrect his beloved Serafina. In the end, the woman he deeply loved did not come back to life, and my daughter and I died with endless resentment. When I reopened my eyes, I had returned to the night when Ethan forced me to jump into the river to save Leo. I tied up the specially made rope and asked him for the last time, "Are you really sure that you can bear the consequences after I rescue him?"

I was born broken. My Alpha mother was the one who branded me. She said emotion was a sin. A weakness. Especially for a werewolf. Especially for an Alpha’s heir. The day we were born, she clamped emotion-suppressing collars around our necks. Mine and my twin sister's. The slightest flicker of emotion, and the collar flashed red. My mother would then push the button, injecting me with a diluted "silver solution" to suppress my feelings. But my sister Cassia's collar? Always a calm, steady blue. Even when she shattered Mom's precious moonstone, it just pulsed gently. And me? I’d just whisper, "Mom, the thunder scares me," and my collar would erupt in a violent red. Then came the sting of silver poison burning through my blood.. I used to argue. But Mom always said the same thing. "The data doesn't lie. Pain is a teacher. This is for your own good." After thousands of these injections, I started to believe it, too. That I was born out of control. The night of the alliance's Moon Goddess Festival, Mom was taking my sister to the rooftop party. Something scared me during the day. The collar flashed red, and my mother started the punishment. But this time, the collar malfunctioned. It shot a dose a thousand times stronger into my neck. I collapsed on the carpet, begging, "Mother, the collar... it hurts so much... help me." My collar was flashing a frantic red. My mother just looked down at me, drenched in a cold sweat, and pressed the button for the maximum dose. "You'd lose control like this just for attention? You're a lost cause." She turned, took my sister, and slammed the door. I couldn't help but think, Mom must be right. The collar is red. It doesn't really hurt. I'm just being dramatic, looking for pity again. I'm sorry, Mom. In my next life, I'll be the perfect daughter you always wanted.

Years after graduation, someone suddenly tags me in the class group chat. "Mr. Warren is gravely ill, Mira. Aren't you going to do anything? You really are heartless!" I only realize what's going on when I click on the fundraising link in the chat. Our high school homeroom teacher, Joseph Warren, has late-stage cancer. Thus, Lyra Fairfield, the class belle, is leading a fundraiser and patient-donor matching process. "I'll donate ten thousand dollars. My husband is the director of Waverly General Hospital, and I've already asked him to arrange a VIP ward for Mr. Warren." Right after I send that message, the group pounces on me. "Mira, you contracted an STD back then and tried to pin it on Lyra. She didn't even hold it against you, and now you're trying to steal her thunder? You're unbelievable!" "I can't believe you're still lying through your teeth during such a serious situation. You never change, do you?" Lyra immediately defuses the tension. "Mira, I don't blame you for what happened in the past, but you really shouldn't impersonate the director's wife. I've already arranged the ward and surgery, and I'm donating another 100 thousand dollars to Mr. Warren!" I'm this close to laughing out of sheer anger. She's the one who scratched her name off the diagnosis report and framed me for having an STD all those years ago. I never even confronted her about it, and now she's playing the victim? Lyra soon posts a photo in the group chat, showing off her husband's car. Yet, when I see the man in the passenger seat, I guffaw. Isn't that my husband's driver? When did he start running a hospital?

“You’re mine, Isabella. My untouched little girl. I will burn this whole world before I let another man get close to you.” Isabella Monroe lost everything. Even her parents. A fire took them when she was just a child, dark and sudden, leaving her alone in a cold, unforgiving world. But Sebastian Hawthorne, her father’s closest friend and the father of her only friend, never walked away. He stayed. He became her shadow. Her shield. The man standing between her and the edge. But Isabella is not the fragile girl everyone thinks she is. She is wild. Strong. She rides her motorcycle like she owns the road, wind in her hair, danger in her smile. She works as a waitress, earning every dollar with pride, refusing to beg, refusing to break. Sebastian tries to control her fire. To tame her reckless soul. But he soon learns something far worse. Controlling his own heart is the real war. He is forbidden in every way. Older. Married, even if the marriage is already dying. And he already has a mistress warming his bed. Every time they meet, the line starts to blur. Care turns into hunger. Protection twists into obsession. One touch from him is enough. Enough to spark something dark and hungry, something that aches low in her body and burns through his control. A need that should not exist. A desire that can ruin them both. Will Isabella give in to the man who once protected her, and now scares her the most… and calls to her in the darkest way?

When Jeremiah Jenner, an academician from a research lab, has bombs strapped to him by a malicious criminal, I know that I can save his life by cutting the right wire. But my husband, Callum Johnson, keeps pinning my hand down with all his might. He tells me that I should wait for his crush, Shirley Gibson, to arrive so that she can save the day for once. This was what happened in my previous life. Thanks to Shirley's mistakes, the timer's countdown decreased from ten minutes all the way down to ten seconds. I was the one who had to shove her away and cut the triggering wire based on my experience. That was how I saved Jeremiah's life. Shirley, on the other hand, was so frightened that she passed out on the spot. She became the laughingstock of the entire squad, which led to her leaving the squad due to depression. Callum didn't say a single word. Instead, he dispatched me to the border as a spy. On the day my mission was supposed to be wrapped up, Callum got in contact with me via a secretive channel. Then, he leaked my coordinates to my enemies on purpose. "Couldn't you just let Shirley play the hero for once? Since you like showing off that much, then you might as well stay as a heroine forever in this place!" The next thing I knew, I felt a bullet piercing through my chest. My enemies had me surrounded immediately before burning me alive, resulting in my death. As I breathed my last breath, I saw Callum embracing Shirley while watching me being licked hungrily by the flames from a long distance away. There was nothing but satisfaction in his eyes. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the scene where the bombs are set to be removed. Slowly, I put down the pliers in my hand. Fine. I won't steal Shirley's thunder this time. I'd like to see how the golden couple can maintain their bombastic, passionate relationship in a place that's about to be blown apart.