Book Still Breathing Novels & Stories

was happening, I was on the bed and Mark was climbing on top of me. The vodka was starting to make the room spin and the numbness that it provided was a welcoming feeling. I was brought back to reality by a sharp pain that I felt in my chest. I looked down and realized that what I was feeling was Marks teeth on my breasts. Mark was like a rabid animal. His eyes were hard and the expression on his face was darker than it had been a few moments age. I heard the ripping sound before I felt the pressure of my underwear being yanked from my body. Marks hands were around my neck again and I felt the pain of his dick penetrating me deeply. He did not make it romantic or even try to be gentle with

Katarina – POV "Is he breathing?" My whisper felt loud in the quiet room. I crept closer, holding the lamp in both hands like it might protect me. The flame flickered, casting long shadows across Giordano’s massive bed. His chest didn’t move. His eyes were half-open, like he’d been caught mid-thought. But something in me said—he’s still alive. That bastard was too stubborn to die easy. I moved to the edge of the bed, heart pounding.

I no longer knew where the dream ended and the nightmare began. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. My breathing was rapid and shallow, as though a heavy weight pressed against my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. Each breath felt like it might be the last. My heart thundered in my ribcage, pounding as if I had been running for miles, and I could feel the blood coursing through my veins, heat radiating, then giving way to a tingling numbness. The air was thick, sticky, almost alive. The ground beneath me felt unstable, as if I were standing on clouds that might give way at any second. I lowered my gaze to my hands—my fingers, my skin—they looked wrong, distant, not entirely mine. Around

"Fine. I'll go back with you. I hope this gift of yours is worth it." Charles caught the corner of my sleeve, his eyes clouded with worry and confusion. I held his hand, gave it a gentle pat, and told him with one look that I was fine. The way we moved in quiet harmony only stoked the jealousy burning in Gary's bloodshot eyes. He had no right to question it, so he lowered his head in pain. I returned to the country with him. Secretly, I switched on a livestream and descended into the basement. There, I looked at Lucy, her face bearing scars identical to mine, and felt nothing but mockery. Even with new scars, the old ones did not vanish, just like how the harm she had done would never disapp

Being near him during the heat is a nightmare. It surprises me that I’m still standing at all, even after minutes of heat clawing through me and breathing in his scent. “No.” My voice cracks as I stumble back, shaking my head. “No, I don’t need you. I’ll manage. I’ll—” “You’ll collapse,” he cuts in, tone sharp, matter-of-fact. “Your body’s already giving in. How long do you think you can hold on?” My knees threaten to buckle. He’s right, damn it. I can barely breathe—every inhale is a fight. My skin burns, my vision swims, and my body screams for something I refuse to give.

CASSANDRA Everything returns in fragments. The smell of metal before the smell of blood. The burn on my side, the bite of air, the tearing of the sheet. And then the light, violent, white, tearing me from the night. I breathe with difficulty. Each breath catches the pain like a bramble. Around me, silhouettes lean in, whisper, command. Precise, rapid gestures. Medical words that slide like shards of glass. I understand that I am alive. And that someone, somewhere, must be furious about it.

I reacted with a jolt and wrestled my baby back into my arms. In the tussle, the baby's pants slipped down, revealing his chubby, bare legs. Jasmine's face drained of color, and she let out a piercing scream. Derick, who had just ended a call, looked at her with a furrowed brow, puzzled. "What happened?" Jasmine's gaze was locked onto the baby, then snugly rewrapped in my arms, her voice shaking. "Why doesn't Ayden have a birthmark on his legs?"

“Can you hear it too?” He nodded slowly, sweat beading along his brow. “It’s below us. Something’s moving. Something big.” Cassian tensed. “You sure it’s not just the aftershock of your near-death cage dance?” Ronan glared at him weakly. “If I say the ground is breathing, Cassian, the ground is breathing.” Aethren stepped closer to the canyon floor, placing a palm to the stone. His eyes widened. “It’s not breathing,” he said.

Would she still be angry at him? He stopped in front of her door and gently pushed it open. The moment he stepped inside, he saw her asleep, an open book resting in her small hands. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. He knelt down and carefully took the book from her, his eyes scanning the cover. Seven Days Before Goodbye. His finger traced the title absentmindedly as he wondered why most girls loved reading so much. He rolled his eyes and walked to the shelf, placing the book there.

The couple who had been standing at the side, calmly watching the so-called brotherly reunion, suddenly dropped their elegant composure and rushed over in a panic. My biological mother, Catherine Lynch, reached out with trembling fingers to check if I was breathing. She took a long moment before finally letting out a shaky sigh of relief. "He's still breathing. Call an ambulance now!" The second I heard that, I snapped my eyes open and grabbed her wrist. "No need. It's just low blood sugar. I'll be fine."