Cold Heart Book Novels & Stories

The cold water crashed over him, but it did nothing to quench the fire raging inside. He braced his hands against the tiled wall, head lowered, water streaming down his shoulders. But no matter how much he tried to bury the memory, it returned. Casey’s flushed face. The stubborn fire in her eyes. Those lips are so pink, soft, and so damn tempting. Lucas gritted his teeth, furious with himself. He had lived for years without this. Women were thrown at him like offerings, and he never once cared. His disease had been a curse, a shield. He couldn’t touch, couldn’t crave, and couldn’t desire.

“You have to let go. This time, completely.” He shook his head, stepping closer, desperate. “No. I can’t lose you again. I can’t.” She smiled — a soft, human smile that shattered him. “You won’t lose me. You’ll just stop chasing me.” He felt tears spill down his face. “It’s not the same.” “No,” she said. “But it’s the only way you’ll ever wake up.” The hum grew louder, the golden horizon pulsing like a heartbeat. He could feel the Core inside him now — every memory, every regret, every desperate attempt at rewriting fate — all woven together into something enormous and ancient.

An 18-year-old girl always closes herself to the memory of old friends, old lovers, and psychological trauma, which has made that soul close its heart and is not welcome for new friendships, or new relationships. A new feeling, 'so stubborn and unruly', those are the comments of people around me and myself, I feel the same way. Maybe that's why I'm more and more alienated day by day and I even realize that I'm COLD.

He said, clutching his chest dramatically and making beating movements "Damn it Eion. I can't stand how cute you are. I'll melt here." I wanted to say that but I stopped myself. "Well, when we first met, it was summer. And then you had a heart like a winter. So cold. I was thinking that maybe your heart was stuck in winter." I smiled. "At least my heart is in winter when it produces Snow in cold weather. My Snow."

Those were their mother's last words before she gave up the ghost. Charlotte gave a sigh as she sat on the bench. She placed a voluminous book on her lap and shoved her hands into the black t-shirt she was wearing. It had Superman and Batman on it. It was Silas'. She shut her eyes and took in a deep breath. She placed her cup of coffee on the floor next to her. She wanted to enjoy the cool air for a moment. She was upstairs in the hospital balcony. It was one of her favorite places to be in the hospital. It was one of the places that wasn't sad and didn't smell like drugs and sick people. It was only filled with noise of cars blaring it's horn and the usual hustle and bustle of New York. Sh

I was pained, my heart was heavy and tears rolled down my eyes effortlessly. I couldn’t control it. I was crying silently. I couldn’t say anything. I was just standing still like a statue. My heart was racing, and it felt like I was going to run out of breath in the next minute. It was almost as if I lost balance. I had to find support from the couch beside me. “When did you become this cold, mom? I thought you were different from dad, but everything that revolves around you is just money and power, no human sympathy.”

Or would it destroy me, just as it had been meant to destroy my father? I reached for the journal again, trembling fingers brushing the edges of its leather cover. As soon as I touched it, a rush of heat surged through me, making my whole body stiffen. It was like holding a live wire—hot, unpredictable, and far too alive for comfort. The power thrummed in my chest, twisting in a way that made my fingers ache as I gripped the book. A cold sweat broke out across my back as the heat from the journal surged again, burning through my veins. It wasn’t just energy—it was alive. Was this the power of my birthright? It felt more like a curse, a gnawing, insistent force that seemed determined to break

The old book didn’t just feel warm; it pulsed in her hands like a living, sleeping heart. Cora ran her fingers over the embossed, unreadable script on the cover, the leather strangely supple against her skin. The library was silent, empty long past closing time, and the only light came from the green-shaded lamp on her desk. It was this silence, this profound loneliness, that made her trace the symbol in the center of the cover. A mistake, she would later think, but in that moment, it felt like an invitation.

My heart skipped a beat, my tears moist right then. I dropped to a crouch and held him, pressing my ear against his chest again. I could hear his heartbeat, thumping powerfully through his thin shirt. It was such a familiar sensation. It was Stan's heartbeat. As I closed my eyes, my tears flowed ever so quietly. We stayed like that for a while, and as I wiped my tears, I held Nathan firmly in my arms once more. "Please live a good life with Stan's heart." - Nathan walked with me to the gates of the orphanage, but I never once turned to look at him again.

I whispered. My heart was beating so hard it felt like it would crack my ribs. The revenge I felt wasn't a fire anymore. It was a cold, sharp needle. I hated this boy. I hated this book. I hated the person who thought they could make me pick between the two people I loved most.