Burning Passion: The Margaret Mitchell Story Novels & Stories

but there is none. No... no... no... Harris... I slowly look back at the hotel as Harris’ voice ring in my head shouting Don’t look back, Amy! Run! Run! Then I see the Passion House, huge, tall, and white in all its glory. Glowing like a kingdom under the sun. I fall back as I see a black smoke slowly from outside of it and gather at its top. Have we succeeded in burning it? I am tempted to go back inside to find Harris but I know he wouldn’t like that.

"It was because of the slim chance of its success. He told me to give him some time to find someone. According to him, he might never make it through the surgery, so he wanted a chance to meet the person before his last breath." Lillian grabbed her hair hard in her hands as she sat in the waiting area and sobbed uncontrollably. Nathaniel knew he might not make it. That was the reason he had been so desperate to find her, but what had she done to help him in the process? She had to hide herself even more and give another person the chance to impersonate her. She had ruined him. She had destroyed him by her so-called act of selflessness. In the process of making others happy, she had sacrifice

She kept thinking about Alex, Nick, and a place to live. 'Why are they tying me into this relationship father? Why should I marry someone against my will?! I love Nick! He is my savior, when there was no one beside me he was there to help me! I would've gone insane without him! I love him with all my heart and he loves me! I trust him and he trusts me! I don't want to marry Alex or whatever! Why Baba why? Tell me why life is being so hard on me? what did I ever do to deserve this? That Shoaib harassed me for so many years, I was left alone! You and mama were always too busy to give me any time, again I was left alone! I was going insane! But he, Nick was there to keep me on the verge of sani

The journal was long and detailed and it told the story of the fire and the jealousy and the years of guilt. It also told the story of Mary Vale and the revenge and the pain. And it told the story of Margaret, the forgotten sister. "Margaret was the one who started it all," my mother had written. "She was jealous and angry and she wanted to destroy me. She was the one who manipulated Clara and she was the one who set the fire. She was the one who destroyed everything." I looked up from the journal and my hands were shaking. "Margaret," I said. "Margaret started the fire. Not Clara. Margaret."

He remained silent, allowing her to express her anger and disappointment in her own way. In a final act of defiance, Margarita reached for a candle sitting at a nearby table. With a determined grip, she lifted the dress and set it ablaze, flames engulfing the fabric as it turned to ash. The act was symbolic, a representation of her burning away the remnants of their shared past, the pain and heartache that still lingered between them.

My head nuzzled her neck, taking in her scent, needing to feel the intimacy between our bodies and for her to calm down. My lips came to her ear and my hot breath swept across her skin, making her back arch then her body relax into my chest. A smile crept on my face, loving the way she reacted to my touch. I never felt so connected to anyone before. "Fire comes from letting your passions run free. Anger can fuel fire magic, but when it is used to create it, the flames will burn uncontrollably or just die out as quickly as they came." My hand that laid on her stomach began teasing her as my thumb drew small circles. "Let go of the anger and feel the passion inside you. The passion to save you

I inquired, giving her the space to confide in me. Margot looked into the flames of the campfire, her eyes distant as she recounted the dream. "I saw our pack, our home, set ablaze," she said, her voice trembling. "The fire raged uncontrollably, engulfing everything in its path." My heart sank at her words, and a chill ran down my spine. The thought of our sanctuary, the place we called home, succumbing to such devastation was almost unbearable to fathom. "In my dream," Margot continued, "I tried to reach out to help, but I was paralyzed. I could only watch in horror as the flames consumed everything."

I'm confused about what my next step is. My mother is forcing me to marry Hannah, and my plans of getting Sarah back keep failing. It seems as if the whole world is working against me. It makes me feel helpless and that only makes the anger build until I can't take it anymore. With a growl, I lash out, punching the closest wall to me. Fuck!

His strong hands quickly steadied me, preventing me from falling. Our bodies were intertwined, and I could feel his arousal pressed against me. I was consumed by heat, yearning for him. Only he could quench the burning desire that overwhelmed me in that moment. He looked into my eyes, then at my lips, desire emanating from his gaze. And then he kissed me. Like hungry animals, we devoured each other's lips, lost in a whirlwind of passion. Suddenly, he pulled away, a smile playing on his lips.

"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.