Fire In His Fingertips Books Novels & Stories

With no other ideas in mind I stick my fingers into the flame and wait for something to happen. As I touch the flame its almost as if it dances across my skin. A chuckle leaves my lips as it tickles a bit. I wiggle my fingers as I test the fire against my skin. It should be hot. I should want to snatch my fingers away but yet I feel as if it isn’t enough. With a curious huff I stick my whole hand into the flame and hold my breath. I feel the fire move over my skin once more but this time its like a tight grip. The fire roars to life as it wraps around my wrist and in fear I try to pull it away.

Mostly people said her hair looked like flames of fire. Miranda was not any less better looking than her sister. She had beautiful long dark hair that complimented her bright blue eyes. Her eyes were so clear that looking into them made one feel as if they could see Miranda's soul! Miranda had a pair of long beautiful slender legs that made her look like a super model.

Like the string, they crawl down to my hands and suddenly not just the skin of my biceps, but the skin of my palms start to burn. Its almost as if Steven read my mind because just when I was about to open and eyes and see what’s happening to my hands, he grasps them once again. “Don’t stop what you're doing.” He commands, the sound of him swallowing audibly can be heard before he clears his throat. “Now I want you to imagine that with every breathes you release, a small flame is building slowly in the middle of your hands.” At the mention of fire, I immediately tense. The flashes from that night start to build up in my subconsciousness and the feeling of fear settles in the pit of my stomach

"Yes..." "If I remember correctly, the book said that it was rare for the daughter of a Karaina not to possess magic." "Are you not listening to me?" Scarlett said, getting increasingly frustrated at Marcellus' suggestion that there was an apex of magic in her. "I told you. I've never been able to handle fire." "But that wasn't fire..." "What the hell was it, then?" Prince Marcellus paused to look at Scarlett, his unnatural eyes fixing on hers. "I'm not quite inclined to tell you because you have that look in your face that tells me you're about to attack something."

Fires burned bright and fiercely. My body no longer held any feeling for pain as I again slammed into the ground. A large door made of ice stood before me. I moved without thinking—my hand resting against the cold surface. Dark magic poured from my fingertips, fire pushing into the ice, melting it away, layer by layer until nothing stood in front of me.

Then—an explosion. The fire surged, twisting unnaturally, moving with purpose, as though it were alive. A wave of heat slammed into me. I turned my body, shielding the child as I rolled out of the way, the flames licking at my back. Pain flared, sharp and searing. My wolf howled in agony, but I clenched my teeth. I could heal. The child couldn’t. The fire withdrew as quickly as it had come. I forced myself to my feet, gripping the girl tightly in my arms.

She waved one last time at Calix before Charlie turned the engine on and they started driving toward the shadows of Knoxville—toward a man who burned bodies, and maybe a few truths that hadn’t yet been turned to ash. One piece at a time.

Their claws clashed with my fire, and the heat that erupted blasted back through the field, knocking down trees and sending gravel skittering across the stone steps. Every strike I took, I felt their whispers in my bones: “Submit, child of fire. Return to the fold.” But I did not bend. I burned. And burned hotter. Link howled, shifting mid-strike, his claws shredding one of the creatures before they even landed. We moved in unison—his violence precise, mine volcanic. Three fell. Then four more. But it wasn’t over. From the treeline came a sound—low, guttural, almost human. And from the mist, a single figure stepped forward.

I could almost feel his teeth graze my skin. My breath caught, my fingertips moving higher until they found the damp heat waiting for them. The first touch made me gasp. My back arched against the pillows, the pressure sending a jolt through me so sharp my eyes flew open. My hips tilted up, chasing more. My fingers began to move in slow, circling strokes, each one drawing the tension tighter. But then Riven intruded, uninvited but impossible to push away. His scent curled through the fantasy, darker, thicker. His hand replaced Kael’s at my throat, rougher, more possessive.

The finger I touch will soon turn red. His wolf growled inside him, restless, while his thoughts kept circling the words. Hungry. Fed. Touch turns red. What could it mean? His throat felt tight as he looked at Nia. Her wide, tearful eyes were fixed on the timer tied to her leg. He couldn’t let her die here. Darius’s hands clenched into fists. His thoughts spun faster, the sound of the timer pressing down on him. His chest rose and fell heavily. And then it struck him like a flash in the dark. Fire. Fire was always hungry. Fire always needed to be fed. And if it touched a finger, the skin would burn red.