Cold Chord Novels & Stories

But sweet gods, it could certainly be cold enough to make up for the lack of snow. A shiver snaked its way up Nicoli’s spine, sharp and sudden, making his teeth clatter and his shoulders hunch reflexively. The chill seemed to creep inside the seams of his wool coat, down into his bones, despite the rabbit-fur lining in his black leather boots. He tightened the folds of his cloak around himself, gloved hands burrowing deep into its warmth. It wasn’t enough. Not against this kind of cold. The kind that didn't just bite—it lingered. It was somehow worse without snow.

But as I left the bakery, I spotted Riley across the street at a baby store, shopping with Nelly. I followed them quietly. The two of them were carefully picking out baby clothes. "If it's a girl, let's call her Cherry. If it's a boy, Jolly," Nelly suggested. Riley playfully tapped her nose, his voice full of affection. "No matter if it's a girl or a boy, I'll love them either way." My hand tightened around the bag holding the cake. My parents had only been gone for three days, and their murderers were already celebrating the coming of new life.

" I grabbed the microphone from the host, who was too shocked to move. The TV reporters I had invited were already pointing their cameras at me. With the mic in hand, I faced the stunned crowd, my voice breaking, "Folks, I'm Sheila's ex-husband. I'm here today to get justice for my little girl, who's no longer with us. "The bride, Sheila, on the 19th of August, at three in the morning, was so busy making soup for her boyfriend Jeff that she forgot to turn off the gas before she dashed out the door. "That mistake led to Chloe and me getting gas poisoning. I was lucky to wake up in a haze and managed to carry my unconscious daughter out of there.

The frosting is a pale, jaundiced yellow, the sickly echo of a winter sun. The cold. The raw, biting cold. It's not just a sensation anymore. It’s a tenant in my blood, an uninvited occupant that has finally built its home in my bones.

A chorus of chilling winds whispered through the trees, teasing my chapped lips as if beckoning them to tremble. The enigmatic touch of winter's breath painted frost upon my very core, a shiver racing down my spine like a clandestine dancer. The frigid tendrils of cold had ensnared my muscles in their icy grasp, numbing every sensation from my cheeks to my fingertips. The world around me seemed hushed, draped in an ethereal shroud of silence that only winter's arrival could bestow.

I plop a huge glob in my hands and go to work. Inside the shower there are more controls. There is a free standing nozzle and I remove it from its cubby. I find the right controls and set it to pulse. I grab some oil and begin to oil my body when a familiar tingle awakens between my legs. I rub myself to quench the ache. Back and forth I move. I hoist my leg up on the side of the shower and grab the pulsing head. Ah! The sensation is overwhelming, like nothing I've ever felt, and I stifle a moan. Jordyn's jaw line creeps into my head. The shape of his shoulders and the swagger of his hips. I feel myself building higher and higher until I come exquisitely on the shower floor.

Chapter Twenty-Seven: You Don't Touch What's Mine POV: Elias Voss The late morning sun gilded the city skyline outside Elias Voss’s office window, transforming steel and glass into a river of molten gold. It was a view he’d commanded for years, a symbol of dominion hard-won and fiercely guarded. Today, its beauty was lost on him. He stood motionless, a silhouette etched against the brilliance, his gaze fixed on a point far beyond the gleaming towers. His jaw was a hard line, clenched tight enough to ache. His mind, usually a whirlwind of strategy and calculation, was unnervingly still, honed to a razor’s edge. And beneath the controlled exterior, deep in his marrow, a familiar, glacial chill

Clyde, the orchestrators of this cruel game, sought to crush my spirit, to break me down. The relentless cold seemed to penetrate the very depths of my being, leaving me shivering and vulnerable. It was as if the icy tendrils of winter were determined to claim every inch of my existence. With each inhale, a sharp ache pierced my chest, a painful reminder of the frigid air that surrounded me. Desperation filled my gasps for breath, as if I was grasping at the last remnants of warmth and hope.

And Chloe was going to save herself. She pulled on her coat, a thin, threadbare thing that offered little protection against the cold. She wrapped a scarf around her face, pulled on gloves that were more holes than fabric, and slipped out the front door. The cold hit her like a physical blow, stealing her breath and making her eyes water. She stumbled forward, her feet crunching against the frozen snow, her body already beginning to shiver. The neighbor's house was dark and silent, its windows frosted over, its door frozen shut. Chloe had to use a crowbar to pry it open, the wood splintering under the force of her blows. The door swung open with a loud groan, and Chloe stepped inside.

Framed for a massive financial scandal by her ruthless ex-fiancé, Emaline Gonzalez is left with a sixty-million dollar debt and her family's future in ruins. Desperate to save her father and clear her name, she answers a mysterious offer from Blackwood Tower only to discover her potential savior is Aiden Blackwood, the cold, feared billionaire and her ex’s biggest rival. ​Aiden is ruthless, emotionless, and demands absolute control. He offers Emaline a deal: sign a 24/7 personal assistant contract, serve as his public pawn to humiliate her ex, and he will clear her family's debt. ​Forging a bond built on revenge, Emaline enters Aiden's world of corporate warfare and high-society games. But