Fire In My Bones Book Novels & Stories

"You need to calm down a little. I know you're upset, but I can see the fire burning inside you. You look like you're going to combust, and I don't know what that level of Hellfire will do." I could hear him trying to soothe me, but it was like a small breath of wind in a raging storm. Not enough to blow out the flame, but just enough to spread the fire further. It went from the fire burning in me internally to the fire spreading all over my outer body. Its scorching flames licked my skin, making it crawl on my body, squeezing tight against my bones as it shrank in the heat.

Her breath trembled as something inside her cracked—not with breaking, but with release. She closed her eyes, drawing the wildfire closer, not to crush it, not to run—but to face it. The whispers tore at her, but she pushed back with her own voice, raw and burning: “I am not your kindling. I am not your ruin. I am flame, and flame is mine to carry.” The wildfire shuddered, sparks bursting outward like a thousand tiny stars. The dark edges burned away, leaving only fierce, golden light that wrapped around her like a mantle.

His own release followed, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he emptied himself deep inside me, his body shuddering against mine as the last of his control slipped away. We collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and sweat-slicked skin, our breaths coming in ragged gasps as the heat of our connection wrapped around us like a shield, fierce and unyielding against the cold, unforgiving world that awaited us beyond the cabin’s walls. In that moment, there was nothing but us—raw, unbreakable, utterly consumed by the fire that burned between us, a flame that neither time nor distance could extinguish.

She stated before correcting her statement, "Oops! Sorry. I forgot that basically, all of you lot died in the front yard." "Well, of course. Did you really think those traitors and murderers would've given you a book that praised the Flames in such way? They don't want you here or alive at that matter. I, on the other hand, want nothing more than to help you, but I can't." The lady sounded distraught, almost embarrassed that she couldn't do more. "Why?" Ruby questioned, knitting her eyebrows in confusion. She was thicker that usually as she answered the Hart girl, "Because that's your mission. Only your ignis can help you."

The kind that burned through bone and memory, flooding every vein with a fire I couldn’t control. The bond roared to life, ancient and unyielding as the pack howled. But, me? I broke.

“Don’t fight it. Surrender to it.” The warmth exploded into a rush of heat that tore through my body, as if lightning had struck me. I gasped, bending forward as the fire spread from my core outward. My bones ached, shifting and stretching, and my muscles burned as they reshaped. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Dad’s hand rested on my shoulder, steadying me as I shook through the change.

Even the wind carried a warning. Then, pain struck. A searing, blinding pain lanced through my chest, sharp and all-consuming. I gasped, my knees buckling as I gripped the balcony railing. My vision blurred, my breath hitched, and suddenly, fire ignited inside me. Not normal fire. This burned through my veins, scorching everything in its path. My bones cracked—not in the usual way, not the way they did when I shifted. This was different. This was deeper.

SONG OF THE CHAPTER: MY BOO BY USHER IVARA'S POV: The fire won’t die. Not the one outside unfortunately. That one is already fading and has eaten down to embers and ash, but the one inside me. The one that won’t stop burning no matter how much I try to smother it. I’m pacing inside Ronan’s quarters, shaking, every nerve raw. My palms are black with soot, my throat still tastes like smoke and death. The walls feel too close. The air feels too thick.

My body doesn’t belong to me. Something else does. The Bone Seer slithers in the cracks of my skull, whispering promises I never asked for. She carries fire. She carries the end. You will be her knife or her coffin. I try to shut it out, but it crawls deeper, scratching its words into bone. Images slam against me: Morwenna with blood dripping from her crown; a child with eyes like silver flames; armies kneeling in ash. I want to wake. I want to warn her. My chest convulses, useless, but in the darkness, I swear I feel a hand—small, burning—press against mine.

He lies, promises fake futures, and when he gets bored, he throws them away. Lisa doesn’t see it. And why would she? She looks at the world like it’s not out to get her. She could make any man fall for her, especially someone pathetic enough to rely on flattery like Brooke. But he isn’t getting near her. Not when I’m in the picture. If I can’t have her, no one will. Call me a selfish bastard, I don’t care. I wear that title like a crown. Then came the moment I could get the reason to fire her. She stared at me with fire in her eyes. Not fear. Not submission. Fire.