Every Breath Novel Novels & Stories

Rena The scent of aged paper and leather bindings fills my lungs as I stand frozen in awe. My heart flutters against my ribs like a captive bird. I've been in dozens of libraries throughout my life—they've always been my sanctuary, my escape—but nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared me for this. "Breathe, Rena," Armani whispers, his breath warm against my ear. "You look like you might faint." I realize I've been holding my breath and let it out in a shaky exhale. "It's just... I never imagined..."

I did not say anything during the entire thing and just watched her quietly as she put on her show. I wanted to know just how sincere she was during our seven years of friendship. By the looks of it, I was too naive and mistook this venomous viper for a harmless pet. That was why I ended up dying so tragically in the previous cycle. “That’s fine. If you can’t help me, someone else will.” I did not stop smiling and dialed a number. The moment the call went through, the person on the other end asked anxiously, “Miss Nelson, have you managed to contact Joy?”

"I'm going to die a virgin, at the hands of the hottest guy I know. He let go of me, and I was finally able to breathe again. I coughed, adjusted to being able to breathe again. I have never before been so grateful for the ability to breathe. The air even felt different as it went into my lungs. I almost died,"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?" I screamed.

...Breathe.... It couldn’t be the end, right? After just one week? .........Breathe...... I’d only just been given a second chance. A life in an impossible, magical world. A new opportunity to be someone else. Someone who wasn’t me. ...................Breathe...... How could it end so pitifully? So quickly? Was I doomed to always fail? .................BREATHE, NATALIE. And I coughed up the water in my lungs, my eyes snapping awake.

Callista My breath hitches at those words and a thousand butterflies unleash in my stomach. Uncertainty battles with hope and anticipation. I open my mouth to reply, but I find that suddenly words have escaped me. Theon was wrong when he said that I’m the surprising one. The truth is, he surprises me every time. "Callista," Theon asks, concerned. "Is something wrong?" That's when I realize I am not breathing. I close my mouth and breathe through my nose, soothing my burning lungs, and calming myself down in the process.

Above it, floating in the stillness, a figure. Faceless. Made of torn veils, stitched together with storm-thread. It didn’t move. It shivered. And every time it trembled, Maya felt a piece of her own fear bleed out of her skin. She stepped forward. It turned to her. > “Breathe,” it whispered. Maya gasped. And the wind around her screamed. Not from outside—but from inside her chest. --- Jonas collapsed, choking. “I can’t—can’t breathe—!”

Still breathing because we demanded it. Because we wouldn’t let her die. Rick Her chest strained against my hand, lungs begging for air, her throat pulsing beneath my palm. Jace’s mouth was already on her, devouring her broken sobs like they belonged to him alone. But I wanted more—wanted to steal the very breath she fought for. I let go just enough for her to drag in a trembling gasp. She cried into Jace’s mouth, her whole body quivering between us. And before that fragile breath could escape, I leaned down—closing the gap, pressing my mouth over hers.

My frown deepens, lips caught between my teeth. What was that? It felt like a breeze, like the lightest exhale against my skin, urging me, coaxing me to turn. My pulse stutters. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, then exhaling through clenched teeth. You are in a supernatural settlement, Selene. It’s not uncommon for strange things to brush against you here. Just take a breath. Just breathe.

The night is so still that even the fire in the hearth seems to hold itself back, as if afraid to break the silence, and I wake without knowing why—just that strange pressure in my chest, like something unseen had called me. There’s no wind, no creaks out of place… and yet, there’s a different weight in the air. I sit up, let my feet slip out from under the blanket, and walk barefoot to the window. The glass is cold against my skin when I bring my hand close, but what makes me hold my breath isn’t the temperature—it’s the fresh smear of condensation, an irregular circle, as if someone had pressed their face to the outside and breathed onto the glass.

His breath wafts against her ear turning her skin hot despite the cold air. What a vulnerable position she was caught in. Trapped in a stranger's arms, hands bound, mouth sealed, with darkness and loneliness surrounding the entire place. Emma's breathing became uneven. Chest rising and falling in an unusual rhythm. She skipped a breath when his palm moved gradually onto her waist and squeezed it lightly.