Breathless Trilogy Novels & Stories

he says. "No! You are lying! I do not believe you, please, please do not leave me. I will never forgive you if you leave me," I cry out. "I am truly sorry," he whispers. He closes his eyes, but I can tell he has just fallen asleep as his chest continues to heave slowly. if I hurry, I can save him. I attempt to lift his body, but I struggle still weakened by the blows of the harpoons. I scream, cry, and struggle to try and lift my brother up. Finally, my body gives out and I slump to the ground my back hitting against a tree. Grabbing a fist full of my hair I release an ear-piercing scream that echoes through the night. I Look at Fafnir, trying to take a final studious glance at him. I see hi

he breathed, “so damn much?” Cheryl shut her eyes. It was all she could do as his mouth moved on hers sweetly… possessively. Emotion poured through her. An unstoppable tide. There was a sound of a throat clearing and an embarrassed little cough. Guiltily, Cheryl pulled free of Nikolas. Two huge books were placed in front of her.

I challenged, backing against a heavy iron workbench, the cool metal biting into the lower part of my spine through my tight tactical trousers. The question hung in the humid air of the workshop, instantly triggering a dark, volatile shift in the room's pressure. The sheer, suffocating adrenaline of the trap, the proximity of their father, and the absolute certainty of the war we were about to fight broke the final barriers of their restraint. "We would burn the entire world before we let him touch you, Maddison," Caleb whispered perversely, stepping into my personal space. His long fingers tore at the front of my tactical shirt, popping the buttons to expose my bare, flushed breasts to the

HELENA I couldn’t breathe. Its weight pressed into me, cold and unsteady. Like it didn’t fully belong in its own body. That broken breath hovered at my neck, stuttering in and out. too close, too real. Evey instinct screamed at me to fight, to push it off, to run. but my body had a mind of its own. It wouldn’t move. Not from fear, from something else.

I stood there with my hands on the railing and I looked at the ocean and I breathed. It was the first real breath I'd taken in months. Not the shallow, controlled breathing of a woman navigating corporate wars and family secrets and dangerous men. Not the held breath of someone waiting for the next crisis. A real breath. Deep. Filling my lungs completely. Expanding my ribs. Reaching the bottom of my chest where I'd been holding tension since the night Julian grabbed me in that study.

Eli’s POV The darkness was a physical thing, pressing against my chest as if a hand had slipped beneath my ribs and was squeezing. It smelled sweet and rotten, Every breath burned, each exhale felt like I was spitting out a piece of myself that hadn’t even formed yet. I forced a shallow breath, counting the seconds between inhales. Pain flared. I clenched my jaw. Don’t panic. Panic would make me breathe faster; breathing faster would kill me. I steadied the rhythm: inhale.... slow, measured. Exhale, steady. The air was thick, but at least it was air.

It was a witness to the void, and for the first time in my life, my disability was the only thing keeping me upright in a world where everyone else was suffocating. "Mommy... I can't... find the... wind..." Leo’s voice was a ghostly thread. He was slumped in my right arm, his sapphire eyes wide and glassy, the gold flecks in his irises swirling like dying embers. His stuffy, nasal breath had turned into a wet, desperate whistle as his lungs began to fail. He was Worldless, and now, he was Breathless. "Stay still, Leo," I rasped, the words feeling like shards of flint being dragged out of my throat.

His breath stank of cigarettes. "Let me go!" I gagged, struggling hard. The next second, the guy flew two feet back, passing out with a grunt. A familiar, cool scent hit me as someone helped me up. I looked up to see a handsome face, and tears poured out. "You left the party early," he said, his voice deep and soothing. "I got worried and checked the surveillance. I'm sorry I'm late."

But with every passing second it got difficult. “Breathe damnit. Breathe and put both of us out of our misery,” he commanded. There was no way I wanted to give him what he wanted, but my lungs were burning with the need to breathe. But eventually, my body’s needs won out and I inhaled deeply, hating the cloying scent that drifted up my nose. “Good girl,” Troy cooed in a sinister tone. “Just breathe. It’ll all be over very soon.”

Ironically, the watch that provided his only light also displayed the oxygen remaining in his pocket: approximately 47 minutes. Alex allowed himself three deep breaths—a technique Sonia had taught him during a particularly stressful acquisition in Singapore. "Three breaths," she'd said, her voice measured even as protesters gathered outside their hotel. "That's all you need to reset your mind. Then you solve the problem." First breath: acknowledge the fear. Second breath: accept the situation. Third breath: act. His father's voice came to him then, from years ago when he'd first been brought into the company: "A Rodriguez never accepts