Fresh Wind Fresh Fire Novels & Stories

The salt-fire was a sound before it was a sensation. It didn't crackle like wood: it shrieked with a high-pitched, metallic frequency that made the black glass floor vibrate beneath my feet. The flames were a cold, ghostly violet, devouring the oxygen and leaving behind a thick, suffocating fog that tasted of boiled vinegar and wet copper.

Flames A Rare kind of witches, extinct. The last Flames were burned down by common witches for the crime of being unique. Flames powers consist of Fire. Manipulating fire, imagining it, using it for one's need, and lastly illusions. Flames and Werewolves are the only supernaturals that can coexist without feeling a need to be at war with each other. There have come a time where a werewolf mate had to be a flame and the flame had to have an "Ignis" ( a soulmate ), they called him ignis because the wolves ignited the flames' fire. Just like the wolves, the Flames tend to have a short temper. When the werewolves started becoming extinct, the flames lashed out on families, friends, and mainly on

I said to him and he nodded at me. “Fire, blue fire works best for witches, it starts to burn them from the inside,” he said to me. “I’ve never used blue fire before, just green and red,” I said to him. “It works basically the same, but I’ll teach you the words. I’ve never used them, because I don’t want to feel the burning afterwards, you should really consider not doing it,” Bryan said to me. “If the option is there not to use it, I won’t. Last time wasn’t so nice,” I said to him and he laughed at me.

Not far from the mansion, a group of people stood watching the raging flames, screaming in excitement as they snapped photos. "Hahaha! Revenge number ninety-ninth! A success!" "Jason is finally free from that lovesick idiot Ivy Yarley!" "When we go in later, I'm taking a few ugly crying shots of her and posting them online. Let the whole city enjoy the show!" The dark red firelight illuminated their twisted, exhilarated faces with brutal clarity. Standing behind the crowd, Jason felt something unfamiliar for the first time.

As I watched the flames flicker, I felt a strange calm wash over me. Suddenly, the door burst open, and Sandra rushed in, wide-eyed with shock. Ignoring the searing heat, she lunged forward and snatched the burning photos with her bare hands. She beat at them frantically to smother the flames. Anxious, she demanded, "Why are you burning these things?" Sandra finally managed to put out the flames, but her hands were blistered from the heat. Her eyes filled with tears as she glared at me. "Fred, do you remember what these things meant to us? How could you burn them? I sent them to you because I thought…"

"Always yours." The fire crackled low, dawn approaching, but their heat burned higher still. And the scent of them—sex, power, and possession—would linger long after the sun rose. They were flame and fang. And no one else would ever forget it.

This time Maya looked at the city the way you looked at somewhere you were returning to rather than somewhere you were arriving at, with the specific recognition of a person for whom a place had become familiar through association if not through residence. "It looks different in March," she said. "It looks the same in March," Sienna said. "It just feels different." "How." Sienna thought about it. "Like it knows spring is coming and is deciding whether to believe it," she said. "Very Chicago. Very this city specifically." Maya looked at her. "You talk about it like it's a person." "Dante talks about it like it's a person," Sienna said. "It's contagious." "That's the most relationship thing yo

His final words had pierced my heart like a blade. Tucker stepped forward and met my gaze. Still dazed, I lifted my head and really took him in for the first time. He towered over Morgan in both height and strength, his tailored suit outlining every muscle. His scent was a blend of cedar and raw, masculine pheromones. With every breath, his presence eased the restless heat simmering deep within me. There was something in his scent that spoke of a kindred spirit and a powerful presence. My newly awakened wolf insisted he was the most suitable person to help me through my mating season.

A wide rectangular room with a Grey wallpaper that has cactus rose colored swirlings on it. My feet move forward without my command, taking in the decorations of the room. Don't know which is big between this room and the one back home. Wind blows the cream colored satin curtains that cover the open balcony. Whistling in the fresh smell of the vines and wet tress.... Vines?

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.