Cold Husband Novels & Stories

“Come one love! Just live a little, will you? Bran is okay with Shone and Sylvia. Besides, he's now a big boy and now he doesn't cry anyhow. I nod in understanding. I'm sleepy and I know Bran will be well taken care of, even if I sleep for three hours. He's not hungry since I've already fed him. I call Sylvia to inform her that I'm going to take a nap and that they should take care of my baby. They both assure me that he'll be okay and I walk up the stairs with Jeff in hot pursuit. Once in the bedroom, I slump on the bed and pull the quilt over. Despite it being day time, it's winter over here and it's extremely cold. All I need is to stay warm. My husband does the same and hurdles himself c

I ask in a demanding tone. "No Alpha. They were all sleeping then out of nowhere they start howling in pain and writhing on the floor." the warrior reported quickly back to me. The howls began to stop and the dungeon grew quiet. I opened the cell I was looking into. I checked for a pulse, but there was none. Strangely their bodies were ice-cold like they have been dead for a week. They just died so they should still be quite warm. Werewolves are naturally hotter than humans. So, why are they so cold?

Chapter 84: The Old Sawmill Luca and Ethan crawled from the icy creek bed, slick with black mud that clung to every fibre of their clothing. The cold had been brutal, searing their lungs, but the sludge offered a brief shield against Maxwell’s thermal sensors. Ethan’s ribs throbbed with each laboured breath, yet the cold had muted the pain just enough for him to move. Their bodies shook violently, teeth chattering, limbs trembling as if their muscles themselves had forgotten how to obey.

Within seconds, Elara, Kian, and Lucas were completely surrounded, trapped in a tightening circle of armed men. And walking calmly through the parted sea of armed guards, emerging from the shadows like a king entering his court, was a man who wore an immaculate suit and a terrifyingly polite smile. He stood tall, refined, and charming, looking every bit the respectable businessman and pillar of society. But behind that practiced, warm smile and those intelligent eyes lay a soul corrupted by absolute darkness, cruelty, and greed. It was Julian Rutherford.

The only cold part of me now was my hands, which were still holding the wine glass I hadn't touched yet Satisfied with the kiss, I felt a pang of disappointment when he pulled away. "Nick..." "I hope this will be enough for a few days. I'll be back." He whispered before kissing me again. His hands that were wrapped around my wrist moved to my shoulders. The only cold part of me now was my hands, which were still holding the wine glass I hadn't touched yet. The faint smell of aftershave and mint lingered in the air as he disappeared behind the door.

> Lucien (soft): “You’re my constant.” She kissed him softly an affirmation, a lifeline. > Sera: “Whatever comes next, I cross fires with you.” Meanwhile in Berlin, Maple and Henry Sr. moved through a cold storage vault. Frosted servers lined the walls, deep-farm codes humming. Henry Sr. slid a universal decryptor into a port. > Henry Sr.: “We’re live.” Suddenly, masked operatives burst in, flashbangs detonated. Maple hit the floor, ears ringing. > Maple (groggy): “They’ve got tags… state-backed.”

"Ma'am, I want some iced water." Kisa frowned. "It is winter. Why do you want to drink iced water?" "But I feel hot." "Hot?" Kisa wondered. As this was a basement, the temperature was a few degrees below zero, making the room cold and dreary. He should not have felt hot. So she reached out to feel his forehead. Andrew instantly dodged. "I just feel a little hot, a little thirsty, no fever." With that, he drank the warm water in one go.

The man's appearance made him realize that he had spent six hours in this city park. He raised his hands that were not wearing gloves. Red and stiff, so that he could barely feel his own hands. Today's cold air strangely did not bother him at all, although according to the weather forecast from his virtual assistant said that today the temperature has dropped three degrees compared to the day before yesterday. He exhaled a breath of air which instantly turned into cold steam. Then he glanced at the white paper shopping bag that contained several cans of beer that he had not touched since earlier. It must have been frozen, considering that six hours had passed. A little hesitant, he took a ca

Kieran The cold is a living thing. It’s not the civilized, dry cold of Silvercrest’s high stone towers. This is a wet, vicious, creeping cold that sinks into your bones, finds every seam in your armor, and stays there. The sun is a watery, copper smear in the sky, already dying behind the jagged peaks, and it’s taking all the warmth in the world with it. My companions are miserable. I can smell it on them. A sour, unhappy tang under the scent of sweat and horse.

The cold is no longer just his. It’s changed. A new quality to it, a texture. It’s not the clean, empty cold of a ghost anymore. It’s a… sticky cold. A clinging, invasive chill that doesn’t just sit on my skin, it presses in. Like frost on a windowpane, but inside out.