Cold Fire Book Novels & Stories

I feel whole again as I let a small flame dance over my fingertips. I can’t resist. I run outside and create the largest fireball I’ve ever made and throw it straight into the stream causing steam to rise from the surface, I’m back baby. I put on a well fitting pale blue dress that looks like it is made of ice, the back is covered. Not because of the cold but because I want Scott to think I'm still weak., I don't need to worry about the cold anymore, not now that my flames are back.

The acrid scent of the smoke still clung to Ava, a harsh reminder of the fire that took her parents. At eight, her world was a scary, gray place. A cruel twist of fate left her alone, an orphan in a world that didn't make sense anymore. A warm hand touched her shaking shoulder. Tears blurred her vision as she looked up at a strong man. He seemed so strong, unlike the weakness she felt. His kind face showed he understood. "Please don't... don't... Please don't kill me too," she whispered, her voice small and scared.

Then—an explosion. The fire surged, twisting unnaturally, moving with purpose, as though it were alive. A wave of heat slammed into me. I turned my body, shielding the child as I rolled out of the way, the flames licking at my back. Pain flared, sharp and searing. My wolf howled in agony, but I clenched my teeth. I could heal. The child couldn’t. The fire withdrew as quickly as it had come. I forced myself to my feet, gripping the girl tightly in my arms.

he says and I shake my head, refusing his threats. “Or…” he says and takes his hands completely off of me. He opens the book and flip through slowly, his fingers teasing the edge of the white pages the way I wish he would tease my hard nipples. I press my legs together, looking for a way to keep down my lust and the crazy thoughts as a drop of juice slides out of my pussy lips into the lady panties I have on. “Or…” he says again and runs his finger down the page of my last writing. Tomorrow morning is Christmas morning.

"No solar gain." Cale made a writing motion. Elion grabbed the notebook from the floor. He handed it to Cale. Cale’s hand was shaking so badly he could barely hold the pen. He wrote two words. Hypothermia. Imminent. Elion stared at the jagged letters. "We need heat," Elion said. "I can... I can burn books. In the sink." Cale looked at the stack of books. He looked at Elion. He tapped his chest.

​The frost on the windows of the Vane Sanctuary had begun to form patterns that looked like jagged crowns. Inside, the hearth fire had burned down to embers, but the air in the center of the room was vibrating with a silent, crystalline pressure. ​Elara and Caleb sat on the floor, knee-to-knee. The Grimoire of the Grounded Star lay open between them, its pages fluttering as if caught in an invisible draft. For three days, they had tried to manifest the "Cold Fire," and for three days, Elara had failed. Every time she reached for the power, it flared into a violent, hot violet flame that scorched the floorboards and left her gasping with exhaustion.

the man asks him. “Maybe someone tampered with it, it must be a set up, I swear, I know nothing of it” he begs desperately, with tears mixed with blood from being beaten and bitten by dogs rolling out. He knows his begging will never change this stone cold heart man in the middle, but he still wants to try whether mercy will be granted unto him. The man in the middle is the boss of Dragon Mafia. His name is Anthony such a soft name for someone who is never to be messed with.

And the program is already running. I looked at the men at the door, and then I looked at the "Architecture" of the lodge. "Enzo," I whispered. "It’s a trap. The lodge isn't a transmitter. It’s a detonator." The "Cold Burn" Phase: The shadows move into the room. Enzo fires, but the "Quiet Ones" move with a preternatural speed, dodging the line of fire. Bianca screams as the first blade finds the velvet of her armchair. Jade, holding the "Grave" in her hands, has to decide: Save the book, or burn the house down with everyone inside.

She hesitated before answering. “Hello?” A familiar voice slid through the line like oil. “Good evening, Miss Solche.” Her blood turned to ice. Caldwell. She didn’t speak. “I see you found my little warehouse,” he continued calmly. “I was wondering how long it would take.” Tiana’s grip tightened on the phone. “You forged the authorization.” A soft chuckle. “Ah. You saw that.” “Why?” “Because, my dear, revenge is only satisfying when it is… layered.”

I shoved everything inside piece by piece: clothes, shoes, and skincare. I was packing everything when I suddenly went still. A memory from two weeks ago surged to the front of my mind. I had just finished work and arrived home when the stench of cigarette smoke hit me in the hallway. I noticed the fire escape door was slightly ajar, and for some inexplicable reason, I decided to peer inside. Kian had Isabel pinned against the wall, kissing her like he couldn’t get enough. Isabel's hands were shoved beneath his dress shirt, while Kian's hands gripped her waist tightly. They were both breathing hard, completely oblivious to the fact that I was standing only a few feet away.