Burning Bridges Book Novels & Stories

It had flowed through our bond and out into the clearing, a ripple of pure, rejecting life. It washed over her projection. She didn’t scream. She hissed—a sound of pure, scalding fury, like water thrown on a red-hot stove. Her form contorted, the green fire in her eyes sputtering. The connection wasn’t just severed; it was burned. “This is not over,” her voice scraped across the minds of everyone present, fainter now, fraying at the edges. “The bridge can not be unmade. It can only be… crossed.”

The texts here were forbidden—the kind copied from shattered ruins and burned archives. I ran my fingers along the spine of a book bound in crimson leather. The title had long faded, but the sigil on its cover was unmistakable: The Seal of the Bridge. I opened it carefully, half expecting it to crumble in my hands. The script was old, written in an archaic dialect only partially translated. But one line stood out—etched deeper than the rest, almost as though the page itself had been cut to carve the truth into its flesh: The bridge remembers blood.

My words were meant to comfort, but they felt hollow even to my own ears as we stood before the treacherous bridge spanning the darkness below. Olivia fell silent for a moment, then nodded slowly, "Okay," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "Let's go, then..." And so with her words as our starting shot, I stepped onto the bridge first, the others following close behind. The bridge shuddered with each step, the flames dancing wildly below. With slow, heavy steps I began to cross, the bridge shaking more violently with each footfall. I could feel the heat of the inferno below, the bridge beginning to splinter.

But because my sister, Raven Webster, thought Snowviper was too terrifying to look at, she stole Blazewing for herself. A month later, the whole world turned hotter, and the heatwave apocalypse began. Snowviper's power, just like his name, could lower the temperature within ten feet of him, creating a living shield against the burning world. Blazewing, on the other hand, carried the opposite—heat and fire. Raven took Blazewing, but she died of heat stroke in the heatwave apocalypse, while I survived thanks to Snowviper's cooling power. In her final moments, Raven was convinced I had stolen her husband. She whispered poison into Snowviper's ear, and he killed me.

I scream into the air. "Jessa!" Brixtius's voice is next to me. "Who are you talking to?" "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I tell him. "Let's go!" Brixtius shouts while pulling me down the street. In the same direction as the crowd. We run for a few minutes, the ash making it hard to breathe. Such deadly snow! The next rumble, I realize it is the end. The pyroclastic cloud that kills all the citizens of Pompeii is coming.

THE END🥳❤️ THE END OF BURNING PASSION 🥳❤️ Thank you for reading and supporting this novel, if you enjoyed this erotic collection then it’s a must to read my second book “SINFUL DESIRES”, it can be found on any book platform and unlike this book, Sinful Desires are short short stories , so just sit back and enjoy a short blissful erotic stories THANK YOU AGAIN❤️!!

He was lost and as present as he could be. A few nights before after I opened up to him, things changed between us. I feel like we connected in the most vulnerable and emotional way. Before, it was attraction, sexual needs, possessiveness but now it was different. It was different for both of us because the bridge did not seemed to exist between us any longer but a fire did. The fire of lies I have built. The fire of lies whose flames would catch up to us, sooner or later. And, even the sole thought of that makes my heart beats faster in fear.

She thought about her mother. She thought about the fire. She let herself go back into it — the heat, the smoke, the pine beam, the way her fingers had looked when she finally saw them in the light outside. She thought about crawling. About getting up anyway. About walking north with nothing and nowhere to go and the burning in her chest that she had not yet understood. She let it hurt. She let it convert.

The way he carried weight with his words. But now… I couldn’t melt. I had to burn.

It had probably already seen several washing machine runs. I stubbornly threw the thought away and focused on the path again. Without a plan of where to walk, I just let my feelings guide me. After a few minutes, I could see the burning lanterns on the Temture Bridge. It looked so unusually bright, the whole time I had this dark path in front of me and now this well-lit bridge. At first my eyes were so busy adjusting to the light that I didn't even notice there was someone at the railing back there.