Every Breath Novel Novels & Stories

I stood there with my hands on the railing and I looked at the ocean and I breathed. It was the first real breath I'd taken in months. Not the shallow, controlled breathing of a woman navigating corporate wars and family secrets and dangerous men. Not the held breath of someone waiting for the next crisis. A real breath. Deep. Filling my lungs completely. Expanding my ribs. Reaching the bottom of my chest where I'd been holding tension since the night Julian grabbed me in that study.

Hailey*** I can’t breathe. It feels like my lungs are collapsing under the weight of everything, like I’m drowning in this cold, suffocating nightmare. My body is trembling, but it’s not from the chill in the room. The hospital air is frigid, but it’s the fear, the terror, that has a hold on me, squeezing tighter and tighter with each breath.

“That’s right, get reading.” I watched as she read the books, taking in all the information as she read. She looked like she was a nerd, a beautiful nerd. She reminded me of Belle and I was the Beast. She had a wrinkle in the middle of her forehead, creasing as she focused on the words she was reading. She was perfect, the perfect girl for me. everything I could ever want in my Queen. *present* I screamed out in pain as pain shot through my body, losing all connections with Skylar. She had left the city.

I claw at my throat when the whip snaps again. Strong arms wrap around me and pull me flush against a large, strong chest. “Hey. It's okay. It's not happening. We're home. We're safe. Breathe, love. Breathe. That's it. Good boy. Take another breath. That's it. Breathe, baby boy.” Walker says softly, coaxing me to breathe, slowly pulling me back to reality. I squeeze my eyes closed, gripping his sides with shaking fingers. My chest slowly rises as I take in one lungful of air after another.

I wouldn't change anytime soon. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. I shook my head and wondered if I would ever feel like I could just be and breathe.

Her pulse was hammering too fast, too loud. Her wolf snarled inside her. Trapped. Chains. Silver. Silent tears started to fall down her face. "Nova, look at me," Elle repeated, grabbing her hands. "You breathe, I breathe." Elle inhaled slowly, exaggerated — and Nova tried. She got nothing on the first attempt. Half a breath on the second. A sputter on the third. Then finally, a ragged gulp of air that burned all the way down. Nova broke. Sobs ripped out of her, cracked and raw and impossible to stop.

Only I can have it. Somehow, I push myself off the bed and stand. I grab his shirt and tug, trying to snatch the pad back. But Danny’s older than me and bigger. “What are you doing? Don’t touch me!” he screams, pushing me away. My hand slips and I fall. The air rushes out of my lungs. I want to scream, but nothing comes out. “Are you dying?” Danny taunts, coming close and looking down at me. I try to breathe, but I can’t.

I wasn’t breathing anymore. My lips had gone cold, pale, the color drained from me until I looked like a porcelain doll someone had left behind. Nina asked the doctors to keep my body in the morgue. Following the voice message I’d left her, she didn’t make many arrangements—she just quietly walked away. The cold swallowed me whole. Darkness closed in. Yet somehow, I could still see. Still hear. Across the city, thunder cracked open the night. Susan whimpered into his chest, her body trembling prettily.

JORDAN The door creaks open. Voices spill into the bathroom—louder, closer. My entire body jerks. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. And I—I can’t breathe. My heart slams against my ribs as the men enter, laughing, dragging the reek of cigarette smoke and sweat with them. I press myself tighter against Alaric’s chest, trying to disappear. I expect him to push me away, maybe toss some smug comment at me, or reveal me just to watch me squirm. But he doesn’t.

The Breath of a Dying Moon The night felt unsettling. Luna was the first to notice — a subtle vibration beneath the ground, as if the earth itself was attempting to exhale through fractured lungs. The atmosphere outside the makeshift camp glimmered with a delicate, silver mist that had not been present moments earlier. It coiled around the trees, murmuring, shifting, and tugging. Even the wind had become quiet, as if it were holding its breath in expectation of something hidden.