Burning Bridges Book Novels & Stories

Carla and Travis watched from the sidelines, hands clasped. “We did it,” Carla said, her voice steady. Travis nodded. “And we’re just getting started.” The scars remained, but they were no longer wounds. Dave, Carla, and the other victims were healing, not just surviving but thriving, their journeys a testament to resilience, love, and the unyielding power of talent reclaimed. ----- This marks the end of the Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire. Compiled short story arcs now made their way to their ends. See you next time. There'll be more ahead. Thank you!

“Whatever happens, stay with me. Don’t go quiet.” “I’m here,” I said. “I’m here.” The seam flared blindingly bright. The burning bridge screamed, stretched to its limit. The circle of wolves strained, shouting, holding, refusing. And in the heart of the light, the pull tightened one last time, wrapping around both of us at once, lifting, drawing, bending the world toward a single point as the line between staying and crossing began to tear open.

And damn it, not anyone’s fool. I dabbed a little lip gloss on and straightened my dress. Let them stare. Let Derek squirm. Let the whispers echo. But tonight, I wasn’t going to break. Tonight, I was going to rise. “Let’s go,” I said. And together, we walked out the door, into a world that had changed, into a night still brimming with fire. But this time, it would burn on my terms.

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.

A sense of deja vu hits me. After spending my first marital night of bliss with Braxius, his harpy first wife storms into his room. She was demanding my immediate removal from his palace. Braxius didn't give in to her demands, but he didn't defend me either. Instead, he tells me to leave his room through a side door, like a shamed woman. I disobeyed and marched through his main door, keeping my head up while walking down the corridors until I was back in my servant's cell.

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.