Cold Heart Warm Hands Novels & Stories

Even now, standing alone in the dark, the memory made my face flush bright red. I brought the collar slightly closer to my face, and even with the dried coffee, that intoxicating scent of luxury, a fresh cedarwood, expensive cologne, and crisp winter air that lingered faintly on the threads. It was a smell that belonged to someone who ruled the world, completely different from a nobody like me. But the brief rush of heat in my chest was instantly crushed by a cold wave of pure terror.

"Little female, this old man wants to know—why are you not afraid of the Cold Season's freezing temperatures?" Realizing his interest, Clar replied casually in her low, melancholic voice. "It is mainly because the cloak I am wearing and the fire-cage I hold in my hand are very warm." Following the direction of her hand, an object just slightly larger than a human palm indeed came into his view. "This is the 'fire-cage' you speak of? May I see it?" Lifting her tear-filled eyes slightly, Clar handed the hand warmer over, her voice trembling with a sob. "Here."

He pressed his lips together and said nothing. A gust of wind blew past, and he instinctively shrank his neck, tucking his hands into his pockets. I noticed his fingertips were a little red, probably from the cold. Sharon had mentioned before that dragon shifters had naturally high body temperatures, but cubs could not regulate themselves well yet. They easily felt cold. After pondering for a moment, I took off my gloves and held them out. “Here, put these on first. If your hands get frostbitten, your aunt’s going to be heartbroken when she gets back.”

He rushed back to me and forced me to put on the winter coat in less than a minute. Even though I'm wearing five winter coats, I can still feel myself freezing, and I notified Arthur of my current situation. Mister Handsome recalls what the doctor mentioned a few days ago and sighed loudly based on what he remembered. Cornelia's heart is currently exposed to cold, according to the doctor, and the cold is not good for her heart or her entire body. Arthur breathed loudly and exhaled. He despised himself for being such. His frown deepened as he pushed the couch closer to the fireplace, because the fireplace cannot function properly if there is no fire wood to light everything up.

It's almost too much for me to accept, no matter how true it is. My feet slide out from under me as I hit something hard and firm. I feel the ground rush to meet me, my arms flailing, trying to regain my balance. A pair of strong, firm hands pass underneath me, propelling me back to my standing position. They are warm, releasing shocks through my body. I am certainly aware of its presence. "Please believe me," he removes his hands from my back, coldness now flooding the previously warm place where his hand had been.

“Wow, your hands are so cold!” “And your skin has a warm glow, as if you’ve been basking in sunlight,” I noted, appreciating the warmth. Their remarkable heat retention was a true lifesaver in this situation. “I appreciate your immediate assistance.” I couldn’t imagine the emotions that would arise if his partner or my own partner discovered this situation. I felt a pang of remorse, but it was misdirected.

But when she looked up at him, she couldn’t help but smile. "But I guess it’s not that important," she added with a playful shrug, dismissing her forgetfulness. It was then that she took his hand in hers, finding the warmth of his palm a small but comforting relief from the cold. She held his hand for a moment, savoring the heat that radiated from his touch. "Your palm is so warm," she said with a soft, appreciative smile, her heart fluttering at the simple intimacy of the gesture. Without thinking, she lifted his hand gently, placing it against her cold cheek, the warmth spreading through her like a soothing balm. "Ah, so warm," she whispered, closing her eyes briefly as the sensation envel

I sense his head above my own but I am fighting my own battle inside to not look at him. His big hand curled around my clenched hands and he dips his head until his lips almost brush them. "We wolves rarely get cold, our bodies are always overheated." He murmurs and does the unthinkable, he blows my hands. His warm breath instantly easing the cold out of my freezing hands. I sighed in content. He was now like my own personal warm blanket. Warming my body, easing my thoughts of worry. His broad chest pressing into my back felt lovely and the way I fit into his arms felt as though we were meant to be, we were made for eachother.

He whispered sarcastically. I pulled off the ear tip and wrapped it back around my neck, I didn't say anything. He was definitely right, he had a horrible heart. I had to examine his chest, for some reason my hands were shaking. I bit my tongue and had my hands roam his chest, his chest was unexpectedly warm compared to my icy cold hands.

I pondered aloud, my words hanging in the air like a delicate confession. I approached Kelan gently. I noticed a warmth emanating from his hands. It was a subtle shift from the usual coldness, and a glimmer of hope fluttered within me. Compelled by an inexplicable urge, I reached out and touched his hands. The warmth intensified, a comforting reassurance that I wasn't alone in this silent battle.