Breathless Trilogy Novels & Stories

Above it, floating in the stillness, a figure. Faceless. Made of torn veils, stitched together with storm-thread. It didn’t move. It shivered. And every time it trembled, Maya felt a piece of her own fear bleed out of her skin. She stepped forward. It turned to her. > “Breathe,” it whispered. Maya gasped. And the wind around her screamed. Not from outside—but from inside her chest. --- Jonas collapsed, choking. “I can’t—can’t breathe—!”

My skin tightens hard enough that my breath catches. Thank you for freeing them, little Queen. Oud. Black saffron. Old incense that clings long after the fire’s gone cold. Now they belong to me. Three hundred people who were breathing their own air one heartbeat ago stop breathing at once. Then their heads turn toward me. Among them is the boy I freed first. His hands are still at his throat. His eyes are cobalt. All of them watching.

Since I learned, within hours of arriving, that I was collateral against a debt I had never signed for. I have been breathing shallowly for ten days. I have been taking in only as much air as I needed to stay upright, to keep my hands steady on the deeds, to meet Domenico's eyes across the dinner table without flinching. Now I breathe deep, and the air tastes like rain and ozone and the salt of my own skin, and I let it fill my lungs until my ribs ache.

One more— Breath.

“The wolf who died with you.” The night collapses around us. And I can’t breathe.

The second most powerful Alpha of the century growls angrily at me. Am all alone and my survival ain't guaranteed. He move his face closer. His breath collides my skin. They heighten my hair follicles and instill limitless fear within me. My breath stops. I whimper fearfully and hope my death ain't guaranteed. Angrily, he jaw grip me off the ground. I gasp and struggle non stop for freedom and breath. Breathing is Impossible. His Alpha grip around my neck denys air passage. More of his grip and am dead.

Now she stood at the treeline, heart pounding, staring at the faint glow of torches from the great hall. And then she felt it. The pressure in her chest surged, sharp and unbearable, stealing the air from her lungs. Her knees buckled. One hand clawed at her breastbone, as though she could pry away the invisible grip crushing her. She gasped, trembling, her breath coming in shallow, frantic pulls. “Breathe,” she whispered to herself, though every attempt felt like drowning. And then, across the distance — she felt him. A pulse. A tether. Something slamming into her spirit with the force of a storm. The air rushed back into her lungs, cold and sweet, like she’d broken the surface of a deep, da

Anthony peeked out from behind her, looking smug. I collapsed onto the floor, finally snapping back to my senses. Looking at my sister's blazing eyes, mine turned red. "Sis, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad." I struggled to my feet, enduring the unbearable itch crawling across my skin, and began putting every rubber figurine back where it belonged. In the end, my throat was so swollen I could barely breathe, and my face turned a sickly blue before I collapsed onto the ground again. Yessenia watched me gasp for air while still trying to clean up. She seemed a little taken aback.

My heart clenched, and I formed a terrifying guess—Maurice had also been reborn. In my past life, he hadn't dared to marry Camilla because he'd feared retribution from Father and me. Instead, he'd found ways to lace the tonics I took daily with herbs that would cause me to be infertile and weaken me. That had led to my death a few years later. He was probably still expecting things to play out the way they had in our past lives—that I would meet the same end if I insisted on marrying him. "We're not strangers to each other, Giselle. Do as I say, and things will work out well for us both," Maurice said.

I gasped, desperate for air, my lungs burning as I struggled to breathe. Bloody hell! Is this gonna be the end of me? I clawed at his hand. “Tristan, please… I can’t breathe…” Give me one reason not to break your neck right now,” he growled. His cold eyes locked onto mine, adding more fear to my already terror-stricken face. “T-Tristan…l-let’s talk,” I pleaded again, barely able to whisper. “I’ll tell y-ou w-what yo-u w-want to k-now. Just let me g-go and lis-ten to me f-irst.”