Cold Mountain Novel Novels & Stories

New Mexico The Desert Bloom Cult Compound Wyatt ‘Holt’ Gibson looked up from his book at Ice’s approach, amazed that his break from watching the compound was almost over already. As soon as he picked up a book, time just stopped for him. It had been that way since childhood, and even though it was considered a bit odd for a hardcore, hardboiled ex-bouncer and -bodyguard and current MC member to love reading, it was what it was. Holt was never without a book in hand – or at least within immediate reach – and his brothers teased him mercilessly about it, while thinking that it was actually pretty cool.

I leaned forward and slashed my palm with my blade, letting my blood splashed across the snow and as it flowed, the witchcraft they used to hold my legs and lower body at a place got destabilized. The rogues hissed, some of them pulling back. My blood shimmered faintly in the moonlight. The leader let out a frown. “So it’s true. The Moonfire runs in you.” I felt my leg become free as I turned and ran. The dried leaves hanging lazily on tree branches whipped against my face. The cold air affected my lungs. I had no idea where I was headed to, I just knew I shouldn’t stop. I heard howls behind me as I raced blindly into the mountains, heading to a place I had once read about. It looked deadly

"Not until you understand that the man who rejected you seven years ago doesn't exist anymore. And not until you give me the chance to prove it." As Raven turned to walk away, her phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. A video file, timestamp showing it was taken that morning. When she opened it with trembling hands, she watched footage of herself in her apartment—sleeping, unaware, completely vulnerable. Multiple camera angles. Professional equipment. The video's final frame showed a message in white text: "Come to the Cascade Mountains. Come alone. Or I'll burn every connection you've ever made. —D"

My heels echoed faintly against the marble floor, and with every step, my heart pounded faster. When I reached the top of the staircase, I saw two doors facing each other across the hallway. Right or left? I whispered under my breath. She said the first door on your right, I reminded myself. So I turned the handle of the right door without thinking twice. And froze. "Dead frozen." My breath caught in my throat. My body went stiff. "Fuck," I whispered under my breath. "What have I done?" Because there he was Damian Cole completely naked, water dripping from his body, a towel in his hand, his hair wet and glistening. He must have just come out of the shower.

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

But my body had never been good at following orders when desire crept in. I set the mug aside and stood, crossing to the window. Snow continued to fall outside, soft and relentless. Streetlights cast pale halos on the white-covered pavement. Somewhere in this frozen city, Nikolai Volkov was going about his night, unaware that an American agent had crossed an ocean to slip beneath his armor. I pressed my palm to the glass and felt the cold bite through my skin again. My breath fogged the pane. “Slow,” I whispered to the empty room. “One step at a time.”

The whiplash this man is giving me is jarring. He's an integral piece of my past, and is necessary for regaining a picture of who I once was. He's also deliciously handsome and tempting, yet there's a coldness there I can't describe. He doesn't trust me. I would be hurt, but I suppose I don't trust him either. "When can we speak again? There is so much I want to know." I adjust my collar, the cold starting to bother me. He looks over my shoulder at the manor. "Soon. Allow me to reach out to you, so we do not get caught."

**THE MOUNTAINSIDE - NEARING THE AERIE** The climb was brutal. Loose scree shifted treacherously underfoot. Jagged rock tore at gloves and fatigues. The thin air burned lungs. The image intensifiers revealed the world in stark monochrome, the thermal overlay showing only the faint residual warmth of small animals and the oppressive, cold bulk of the mountain. Winters moved like a spider, silent and unnervingly sure, finding handholds and paths invisible to the others. Harlan followed grimly, Mack covered the rear, his breathing labored but steady. Reynolds, pale and trembling, was secured on a makeshift sled Leo hauled with grim determination, the tracker clutched in his free hand, its green

The Northern Mountains rose like jagged teeth against the gray sky, their peaks swallowed by clouds heavy with snow. Samuel’s pack trudged through the frozen wasteland, breath steaming in the bitter wind, each step sinking into the crusted ice. The city below had been left behind, burning in chaos and revolt, but the danger had followed them. The humans had not forgotten, nor forgiven, and now they wielded their most lethal weapon yet—a "Nuclear Winter" device designed to turn their world into a tomb of frost.