Cabin Fever Books Novels & Stories

Chapter 48: Fever Dreams The fire had burned down to a bed of glowing red coals that cast a dim and dying light across the cabin floor. The air inside the room was frigid. It carried the biting chill of the blizzard outside mixed with the heavy and cloying scent of our mating. I lay tangled in the fur rug with Kael’s heavy arm draped over my waist. His skin was burning hot against mine but he was shivering.

Too quiet. I unload our bags while Celia carries Mia inside. The cabin is just as I left it, untouched and seemingly safe but full of dust and webs. The peace feels deceptive, like the calm before a storm. I lock the door behind us, double-checking it, and then set about checking the windows. The routine is a poor attempt at easing my paranoia, but it’s all I can do for now. I have too many people depending on me.

Claire's heart hammered. Did he mean the book? Or her? He walked around the desk and stood right in front of her. She swallowed as the desk loomed between them like a fragile barrier. "Which part got you so into it?" he murmured, voice low. "Don't-just put it in the bin," she said, cheeks burning red. He chuckled-soft, knowing. "Come on." He opened to the middle. Claire bit her lip as he cleared his throat. > "She trembled against him, velvet heat pooling as he slid inside her, her breath hitching on every slow inch..."

But I swept those thoughts away and sat back on the bed with fresh tea and the book. "Ick," I sputtered over the bitter drink until my tongue was ready for me to try again. It was scalding hot and not what I was used to drinking in Laernear. Before long I was on my second cup and nearly done with the book. Thumping boots greeted me, and I whipped my head up to see Caliban approaching the door. I sighed in relief that it was him and not the owners of this cabin coming out of season. This time he had a doe over both of his shoulders. His amber eyes glanced at me as he stomped in, but he turned away after seeing the book in my hands. I rolled my eyes in his direction and went back to reading wh

"How the cold felt like an end. And now... the cold just feels like a reason to go inside." Félix tightened his arms around her, his chin resting on the crown of her head. "The cellar was a lifetime ago, Emma. We’ve written a lot of pages since then. And I like these last ones the best." Inside, the cabin was a sanctuary of the Tangible. There were no glowing Spires or silver-logic consoles. There were shelves of hand-bound books, jars of dried herbs, and a hearth that crackled with the stubborn rhythm of cedar wood.

he begged softly still knocking at her door. The door wrenched open revealing Faye, he walked straight into her room. A suitcase was casually standing close to where she stood with her hands crossed on eachother as she await his move, everywhere was quiet there was no music and the TV was off. There was no life in the apartment despite the heavy downpour and loud rumbling thunder outside, the weather was freezing cold but not as cold as the thick ice around Daylan.

IRIS’S POV The cabin at the top of the mountain definitely wasn’t "cozy," despite what the brochures probably claimed. It was really just a very fancy prison wrapped in cedar and expensive glass, sitting so high up that the air felt thin and mean, like it was personally offended by our existence. And the smell was the absolute worst part. That fake lily scent was everywhere, thick and chemical as it coated my tongue like I’d just swallowed a bottle of cheap perfume mixed with bug spray. It made my head feel fuzzy and my skin hum with a restless, electric heat that I just couldn't shake off, no matter how hard I tried.

His face seemed carefully expressionless. “Yes,” was all Gabriel said. “I know.” She tossed the passport into her suitcase with the sexy clothes and shoes as if they belonged to someone else. Leaning against the modern black four-poster bed, she looked around her with a heavy sigh. “There’s nothing here…” “I told you, Calleigh.” Desolately, she went to the bookshelf. It held only faded fashion magazines, years out of date, and a few slender volumes on etiquette and charm. She picked up the book on top, a splashy pop-culture book, and read the title out loud in dismay.

By Anita D. - Janus: Travel Pieces. BY Chester E. - Fever 1793. By Laurie A. - The Hotel New Hampshire. By John I. It was a list of book, I re-read over them and then started up and down the isles looking for them. I looked for the authors by last name, finding a couple of them. But then had trouble finding the rest. I looked all over the library until I finally found them all, which took about 30 minutes or more.

Analiese I'm leaving the house again. It's nearly summer and the days are getting hotter. It's only eighty-six degrees, but the humidity is a killer, making it feel like ninety-six. I went to Las Vegas once and the heat of one hundred and one was easier to bear because there was no humidity. I also heard that you would die faster of dehydration because you don't notice the heat as much for that reason. I always keep my hair up and off my neck. I hate the stickiness of it sticking to my neck, but while in Vegas, I kept it down. There, it was the opposite of here. Maybe the intense heat licked away the sweat before it settled? I didn't analyze it that hard. Still, this was home. I had to get a