Crackling Sound In Lungs

I may come off as spoiled, but I can tell you now that I'm far from it. Coming from a theatrical family doesn't help my case though, music was basically drilled into my brain. I'm sorry. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Celesta. And I'm cursed… Cursed with a colorless soul. How will I ever get it out of me? I can tell you now that it wasn't easy, but somehow I managed to get through it… with the help of my Muse.

A secret mission was all it took for Elise to gain the infamous twins, Azael and Reuel's attention and from then on, there was no stopping them. While the twins want her, Elise wants nothing to do with them. Amidst the growing infatuation and feelings, Elise has even to protect herself from the danger she has unknowingly put herself into. ---------------------------- This book contains mature content including violence and sexual themes. It is also a reverse harem romance and explores many different aspects of BDSM. Read at your own discretion.

He didn't stop when he reached her but leaned forward and kissed her hard, on the mouth. The air left her lungs. Maybe it was because it was her first kiss or because he had kissed her, she didn't know but her lungs were burning, her lips were on fire. She was one fire. It ended in a second. She stared at him with wide eyes as he stared back. His hand traced her forehead, nose, lips and then chin as it stopped on her throat. She knew, by God she knew he could feel her pulse, the heat on her cheeks. "I'm home." Dean Woodland left two years ago without a word or sound and now he is back to bring his belongings with him.

Shock, cold and absolute, rippled through me. My jaw dropped. “Owned? I am not an object! You can’t just—” His dark chuckle cut me off. It was a chilling sound, devoid of warmth. “Oh, but I do, little bird. You became mine the moment your dear brother, Carlos, sold you to clear his debts. Along with almost all the shares in your father’s company.” The air left my lungs in a ragged gasp. What was he talking about? That couldn't be true, yet the look in his eyes said otherwise. He had sold me like an object, like chattel. Rage, raw and unadulterated, surged through me, eclipsing the fear for a fleeting moment. I tried to push past him, to escape and to run anywhere but his hand shot out, grabbing me by the neck, not quite choking but enough to hold me in an iron grip. He pinned me to the wall, his face inches from mine, his eyes burning with an intense possessive fire. “You now belong to Lorenzo Blackwood,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “You are mine. To possess. To claim. To own.”

⚠️⚠️Warning!⚠️⚠️ Contents of this book contains STRAIGHT, LESBIAN and GAY sex. If you're not into all three, I’d advise you to stop here. But if you love them all…then I dare you to read these hot stories without craving forbidden pleasure. ~~ “You want that, don't you?” Rocco asked, pinching my left nipple through my top as he rubbed himself against my thighs. A helpless sound escaped my lips, my lungs now begging for air under his chokehold. He pinched my nipple once more, cupping my boob in a tight squeeze. I whimpered, both from the pressure on my neck, and the teasing on my nipples. “No baby. Use your words,” he instructed, his hand moving to my right boob. When Thalia–an assassin–was sent to murder her latest target, she expected a quick mission. She didn't expect to be in bed with the man she was meant to destroy. Caught between duty and desire, one mistake could cost her everything. Because if her boss finds out… She won't live to tell the story. In this erotic collection, pleasure is dangerous and survival? Never guaranteed.

She escaped the mate who broke her—only to bind herself to the monster sent to end her. Scarred by betrayal and branded by blood, Lira survives the Pit with nothing but fury in her lungs and a tether to a man she should hate. Kael is cold, brutal, and bound by secrets—but in the dark, their monsters recognize each other. And when the bond pulls tighter, it’s not just survival on the line. It’s surrender.

Ember accepted her lot in life. On the run, she only wishes to find out the truth behind her dreams and solve the memory of her past. Keegan has only cared about protecting his pack, but when he sees the beauty dancing on stage and the flicker of flames in her eyes his body screams, Mate! Can Keegan tame the flames of Ember and together solve the mystery of her missing past? Or will they all burn together? Excerpt: “This is the reason I’m always tired,” I think to myself. Twenty-four years of coming here and still not a single clue, but every time I close my eyes, I return to this place. I know my surroundings perfectly. Oddly the place is beautiful to the eyes. The old house sat among flowers growing around all sides. The aroma of honeysuckle and jasmine fill my lungs filling me with a moment's peace. I’m sitting in my usual spot. Gripping the ropes of a swing in the front yard held by a large oak tree. Waiting I begin pushing my legs back and forth sending me in motion. I know something is about to happen. It happens every night. The house moves in front of my eyes. I see the shadows coming, but I don’t stop swinging. They are black as night but I can see smiles within the shadow grinning bright. “What is this place!” I cry, fed up with this nightly repetition, but no sound emerges. A noise can be heard from the back of the house. One of the shadows turns toward it. I jump down to follow only to have the other shadow hold me back. “Don’t go. Not yet. Listen to me!”

“No, no, no!” She cried out, bending over to savage the little she could, but every attempt seemed fruitless because the food kept soaking into the wet ground. Unfortunately, it had rained that morning. This made her furious. With frantic wide eyes and a rage-fueled strength, she grabbed the nearest huge stone she could carry and ran like a wild beast, screaming at the top of her lungs after the car that had deprived her siblings’ food.

At the party for our first wedding anniversary, I hit the floor—face-first on a red carpet, gasping like a fish out of water. Carlo Pipino, my husband, had his arm draped around Gianna Verde, his childhood flame, sipping champagne and laughing. Gianna knew I was allergic to nuts. So, obviously, she bathed everything in hazelnut dressing. One bite and boom—my throat locked, my lungs lit up, and hives popped like confetti. I reached for my allergy meds—came up with a fistful of melted M&Ms instead. Gianna laughed when she saw my face. "Surprise! Carlo swapped your meds. Seriously, Siena, one nut? Dramatic much?" I slid off my chair, wheezing, while the crowd placed bets on how long my "performance" would last. "Carlo... my meds..." I croaked. "Please. I'm gonna die." He sighed, annoyed. "God, you're so dramatic. Why do women always play dead for attention? You know I love you. Just stop this show already." Right then, my heart shattered faster than my lungs could. I stopped begging. Hit the distress signal. Called my real family.

To save my wife, my lungs were pierced by a knife, leaving lasting consequences. When I fell ill and struggled to breathe, she said I was dramatic and went on a business trip with her childhood friend. When she returned, I found a man's underwear in her suitcase that did not belong to me. I calmly made the call: "Director, I've made up my mind. I'm going to assist in Avrika." Later, at the airport, she bent down, publicly lowering her head and begging for my forgiveness.