Novelas y relatos de Burning Passion: The Margaret Mitchell Story

she said - daddy’s sweet little girl. It was fascinating to watch her theater. My sister knew exactly how to win over an audience with her untamable spirit. Sometimes I felt her body was far too small for her wild, ravenous, and secretly disturbed soul. Everything became too intense with her. Passivity was tedious. She craved action. She needed the stares, the spotlight, the leading role. If Iris wasn’t the protagonist, there was no story. If she wanted to win, then victory was already hers. If she wanted someone else’s place, she would take it; if she desired another’s affections or accomplishments, she would steal them. So cunning and skillful that, by the time you noticed, everything had

His hand slid around the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair, holding me in a passionate grip that sent shivers down my spine. I could taste the intensity of his emotions in that kiss, a heady mix of longing and pent-up passion that had been building between us for far too long. His lips traced a fiery path from my mouth to my jawline, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Every touch, every press of his lips against my skin, ignited a blaze that consumed all reason.

HUSBAND. He smiled sadly. She didn't want to acknowledge their marriage but didn't react. He was tired of always reacting to every little thing. If he was to win her back, he had to start with always controlling his temper especially around her. ‍​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‍Book From Passion to Obsession, chapter Chapter 43, page 1 read online

The window stands wide open, and everyone else is wrapped in coats ; everyone but me. Margaret flicks her claw and lights a fire, setting a single candle beside her. "You'll leave when the candle melts," she says flatly. Suddenly, that flickering flame becomes my lifeline. I anchor my gaze to it—burning as furiously as the rage locked inside my chest. My teeth chatter. My body convulses beneath the surface. Cold stabs at me like tiny blades. My toes go numb first. This is the life I’ve chosen—to destroy the one who ruined mine. And when I reclaim my freedom, I’ll take his mother’s life too.

Later, Maria sat at her desk, opened her notebook, and wrote: “The fire is not mine. It never was. I was just the match. They are the flame.” She closed the notebook. She looked out at the stars. And she knew. The summit was not an ending. It was a beginning. A blaze that would keep burning. In every town. In every voice. In every girl who dared to speak.

Cecilia instinctively backed away. Alcohol had been splashed on her; even a single spark could set her on fire. She pressed herself tightly against the wall, dodging the falling embers. Margaret lay on the floor. A spark landed on the back of her hand--igniting instantly. Flames spread in a bright rush. Her eyelids fluttered open one last time, and her smile softened--gentle, almost serene. In the fire, a shadow seemed to take shape. Ten years ago, when he walked away from her in disappointment, he had said--

"The bond has nothing to do with destiny. The only reason we became mates is because my mother made a deal with a higher power. Do you really think I would still be alive if she didn't assign us to be mates then? Even now. The bond is only returned because it is a protective mechanism. You are here to protect me or die trying." "Irrespective of what you believe, I do care about you, Loretta. I care about you a lot." That sentence. No matter how simple, direct and innocent I tried to put it set Fiona into a violent frenzy. The fireballs she had conjured tripled in size and without so much as a hesitation, she fired one. My wolf and soul screamed in dismay as the ball of hot light charged towa

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.

She rolled her eyes and locked the door behind me. ~~~~ AUTHOR'S POV Margaret had barely turned around when a large stick connected with the back of her head, sending her down to her knees as she screamed in pain with the gun dropping from her hand. "Who are you to disobey me?" Boss fumed. Margaret lifted her head slowly and smiled painfully. "I'm Margaret, the woman who does your dirty work. You know, you shouldn't have asked me to seduce Dmitri two years ago because what you did made me realize that true love was real,"

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❤️!!