Book Slow Burn Novels & Stories

Then, I locked the door. After that, I took out a lighter and set the bed on fire. Flames roared to life, crackling through the room. I lay back and closed my eyes, strangely at peace. … Meanwhile, at an award-winning restaurant, Rosa was tugging at Salvatore's arm. "Why did you order everything I don't like? I don't want that. Let's get something else," she whined. Salvatore shook his head. "Not today. Arianna has no appetite. So, I need to bring these back for her before she makes herself sick again."

Smoke filled my lungs—thick, black, choking. Five months pregnant, I woke to the scent of burning pine and sacred oak smoldering. Through the haze, I saw her: Eira, my fated mate’s foster sister, his “little sister of the pack,” pouring accelerant on our den threshold. I didn’t call him. Last life, I screamed through our bond. Cassian—my fated mate, my Alpha, the wolf I’d loved since we were six—came for me. Pulled me from the flames while Eira burned to charcoal behind us.

A sudden, inexplicable instinct told me I had been moving toward this exact moment my entire life, even if I lacked the words to explain why. ​The darkness split wide open. ​Crimson fire erupted from the cracks in the stone, surging skyward to form a towering wall of flame. Radiance washed across my skin, and I flinched, bracing for the agonizing burn of the execution stake. ​Instead, a deep, restorative warmth soaked into my bones. ​I blinked, startled. The fire didn't burn. It felt familiar, almost protective—like stepping into a warm hearth after years lost in a winter storm.

The warmth from the fire didn't really ease the uneasy feeling growing inside me. Taking a deep breath, I opened the book. Each page turn felt like stepping back into a past I wanted to forget. The flames continued to dance, casting a flickering light that seemed to play along with the emotions swirling within me. I turned another page, the words becoming guides through a landscape of recovery I wasn't sure I was ready to navigate. Memories, like shadows, crept in as the fire crackled. Each sentence seemed to awaken echoes of my own experiences. It was as if the library held its breath, waiting for me to absorb the weight of those stories and somehow find my own path within them.

He pours a half-full glass of wine for me and the same for Ashley. I turned quickly to look over at where he was seated but it seemed as though he had left. Was this how he treated ladies whom he barely even knew? There was no way on earth I could have been that lucky. “Thank you,” I said to the waiter just as he walked away from our table. “It's barely 11 am and we are about to finish a whole bottle of wine?” Ashley asked with a laugh as she picked up her glass. “Well, cheers to that. It's been a really crazy month for me so I think I deserve this bottle” I sipped mine as I tried to clear my throat a bit to tell Ashley the whole dark story of my life.

CHAPTER 76: WITH RELATION TO THE DEVIL ZAHRA'S POV The fire crackled softly in the corner of the room, casting a warm glow on the nearby furniture. I lay on the couch in Dashiell's estate, my limbs heavy with weakness. The familiar scent of the leather seats mixed with the faint smell of ginseng still emitting from my clothes. I traced a finger along the bandage on my forehead, my thoughts drifting back to Davina pinning me against the altar stone, and her vile perverted touches. The disgusting way she spoke, and the feeling of her tongue trailing up my neck, still haunted me.

The flames lash toward Selena’s mangled body, wrapping around her like snakes, twisting and tightening, burning brighter with every passing second. Her body starts to burn. The dark, twisted glow that surrounded her begins to fade, eaten up by the flames. The fire eats away at her, hissing as it consumes her flesh. Her skin blackens and cracks like dry wood, breaking apart in the fire’s wake. Her bones shift and splinter, disintegrating under the heat.

The flames blazed on, intense and untamed, burning bright against the white landscape. I had no idea what else to do, but I kept piling snow onto her, desperate to quench the flames that seemed unstoppable. Finally, after a minute that felt like a lifetime, the fire sputtered out. Scarlett lay there, her body still and vulnerable. Her skin glowed faintly, as if some otherworldly energy had just released her, and after a few heartbeats, she began to stir, slowly coming back to herself.

(Hannah’s POV) The smell of burnt wood and ash still lingered in the air as I stepped over the caution tape. The building had been nothing more than a quiet corner bookstore—one I’d passed dozens of times without much thought. Now, it was a skeleton of charred beams and shattered glass. I swallowed hard. Standing here, in the middle of what was once a thriving business, made everything feel more real. This wasn’t just a story; it was someone’s life in ruins.

Always the charmer. I didn’t write back immediately. I wanted her to wait for it, wanted the anticipation to do half the work. Then, slowly, I wrote: Let’s see if I can make you squirm without touching you. She didn’t look at me. But she blushed. Real hard. I bit back a smirk. My sneaker found her ankle. Just a light nudge. Then a slow, teasing drag up toward her calf. I didn’t push too far, just enough to remind her of everything we almost talked about last night. Everything she wanted.