Burning Cinders Novels & Stories

Flames of desire He cupped her breast with his hands as he aggressively devoured her nipples with his mouth, one after another. "Oh fuck," she moaned and slid her hands down his chest to the taut line of his abdomen, and made every muscle that made him manly ache for her even more, he rolled his tongue in circular motion around her nipples and sent more shivers down her spine.

Another step back. Another crackle of fire. The entire stairway shimmered with heat. The red carpet was catching now. The edge of it curled in on itself as the flames licked its surface, turning the poor luxury into ash. “Celine,” I said. “Yes, ma.” “Now.” She yanked the pin from the fire extinguisher and began to spray as foam burst out with a loud hiss. The flames hissed back in defiance, but slowly began to die. Smoke rose in thick gray columns toward the ceiling.

It was small. A spark, a flicker—something so insignificant that it should never have changed his life. But it did. Nathaniel remembered the way the flames spread, slow at first, creeping along the edges of the old curtains before swallowing them whole. He remembered the thick, suffocating smoke curling toward the ceiling, the acrid scent of burning wood and fabric stinging his throat. His hands trembled as he tried but couldn't put it out, his heart pounding in his chest.

Panic rippled through the crowd, but not a single person stepped forward to help. While holding my breath, I pushed through the chaos and loosened Oliver's collar. "Wake up! Don't fall asleep!" But his pupils had already gone dull. He was too weak to respond. Suddenly, a still-burning cigarette butt droppped nearby and reignited the lingering hydrogen. In an instant, flames shot up toward the sky, and a wave of scorching heat slammed into us. Screams erupted around me. In the chaos, I was shoved and trampled, my wrists and ankles swollen and throbbing.

Cassie buried her head into me and I could hear the soft whimpers even above the screams coming from Turner. He was still alive and squirmed in place as the limbs were thrown on top of his back. The sticks, which had already been arranged around the stone, were lit. As the flames licked at his still moving body, I had to look away. There was no escaping the smell of charred flesh as it drifted across the air. It got into the back of my throat and it took everything I had not to gag on it.

I knew we couldn't erase the abuse they'd endured, but I'd be damned if we let it continue. King Cian raised both arms, an arc of fire dancing between his palms. "We will burn the rot from this place." He flung his hands forward, the fire rolling from them in a wave, crashing over the convicted with no mercy. Beta George was the first to be hit; the force of the flames knocked him prone even as his clothes ignited. High-pitched screams pierced the air, finally fading as the fire died and left nothing but ash behind.

He patted her hand and pulled away before dashing towards the source of the stench. As she jogged, careful not to trip over branch and bramble, she had no shoes still after all. It was slower going than she’d have liked, she heard it. A high keening. It was that same, tinny sound that obviously wasn’t made by anything living she’d ever heard. The Dain howled in clear agony. Up ahead, in the fading gloam of predawn, something flared brightly like a star. Fire, bright like a beacon. Cinder was about to have his ‘fun’. Ignoring the thorns that bit at her bare feet, River dashed towards the spark of flame.

Behind her, the clash begins. Azeriel thrusts a line of flame toward Cindar. Cindar blocks it with a shield of glowing heat that bends the attack aside. The air vibrates from the force. Rowan looks back only for a second but that second is enough to see how dangerous Cindar really is. Azeriel pushes harder, driving his fire with both hands. Cindar smirks and steps into the heat like it’s nothing. “You burn bright,” Cindar says. “But brightness blinds. Power without knowledge is only half power.”

"In that case, I think the pizza can wait." End of Book One: Incendiary

"I don't believe in miracles anymore, Ben. I believe in stubbornly refusing to die. There's a difference." "Is there?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Sometimes I think your stubborn refusal to give up is the closest thing to a miracle I've seen since The Burning." The mention of The Burning made my chest tighten, as it always did. The memories were still too fresh, too raw. I could still smell the smoke, hear the screms, see the sky turning that terrible shade of orange as the world caught fire. I pushed the thoughts away, focusing instead on putting one foot in front of the other.