Novel & Cerita Heat And Dust Novel

It was raining. But this was no ordinary rain; a thick, black, sticky liquid poured from the sky, burning my metal body like acid. I lay in a massive garbage heap in the city of Neo-Quebec. Around me were broken metal scraps, tangled wires, and the remains of malfunctioning robots.

“Such a good little weaver. Kneeling. Waiting. Already leaking for your owner.” Clawed fingers slid into her hair, gripping tight but not painfully, tilting her face upward. She felt the heat of his enormous body looming over her. The brush of leathery wings against her shoulders. The heavy, ridged length of his cock, thicker than her forearm, scorching hot, slick with pre-come slapped heavily against her cheek, leaving a wet streak of demonic essence across her lips. Elara moaned, mouth opening instinctively. Her tongue darted out, licking the underside of his shaft, tasting salt and smoke and pure sin.

"Eli! I curse you to die a wretched death, with no body left to bury!" So his curse really did come true. I shut my eyes, too drained to feel anything but a hollow calm. And then, something wrenched me upward. The world blurred past, wind screaming in my ears. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the place I both knew and dreaded: home. It was December 29th. The manor was strung with gold tinsel and paper snowflakes—every corner bright with seasonal cheer. But I felt no warmth. The festive colors only burned my eyes, sharp and unsettling.

The pain was excruciating. Her marriage was nothing but a colossal joke. "And before her, what about the others? The secretary, the assistant, the movie star." Elaine's smile was tinged with sadness as she spoke in a raspy whisper, eerily composed. "Jasper, you're so vile. "I must have been blind. "You're beyond vile." Each word was dripped with revulsion. The hatred in Elaine's eyes pierced Jasper to the core, hitting a raw nerve and stripping away his composure.

I covered the desk while she went to the bar, got herself a drink, and returned. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered when she came back. “She’s properly tugging him! I feel a little horny myself after seeing that. You Brits really need to stay out of the sun—it turns you into dogs on heat.” “Let’s both keep an eye on what’s going on,” I suggested. “Give me your phone number so we can message each other.” She shook her head with a smirk. “Lame. If you want my number, just ask.” I grinned. “Nina, can I have your number?”

We came from the heavens in the form of dust. That is what made us the humans we are today. The knowing where we come from only is known to a select few. The ones who dream of the stars and planets so far away. The ones who know we will always be Star Dust in the end. Katherine Thomas Chapter 1

Alex, holding a cup of tea on the porch, watched them with a peace she had once believed impossible. She had finally come home. And this time, so had Chester.... A slowly heating romance between Sande, and Daniel the famous billionaire Playboy was beginning to heat up. Will the romance turn out right between them or…?. Find out in book two of the series'.

Then it happened. Heat seared his skin like wild fire and with one final thrust he pushed farther away, knocking into something behind him as it came down. Everything seemed to happen in frames, each moment passing in stages. A thin line of white sheen descended and threaded a path through the unsouled from sky to dirt, then its territory expanded in a barrier of yellow like those of fully lit flames, and yet, there was no mistaking it for anything else but light. Then its surrounding wavered, the air shimmering and distorting from heat as everything buzzed to life. The unsouled barely registered anything. Its eyes remained glued on him as its hands and feet left the floor.

Just studied him from over the rim of his mug, letting the burn of the coffee keep his temper down. This wasn’t the house Eden shared with Dusty. That place was gone—left behind with everything else she’d peeled off like old skin. This one was hers. Quiet. Small. Full of mismatched furniture, burned pancakes, and kids who knew how to make chaos out of nothing at all. But Dusty stared at it like it still belonged to him. The truck hadn’t moved in ten minutes. Engine off. Windows cracked. Like he was waiting for something. Or for someone to notice.

It was the kind of dust that suggested the shelves hadn't been touched in a long time, that their previous occupant had simply walked away, leaving their mark behind. Her hand moved across the shelf, sweeping and dusting it. With each swipe, she uncovered more dust, more layers of a life that had been left behind. It was strange, the way the dust seemed to hold onto things, refusing to let go. Then, with a soft, dry scratching sound, her fingers brushed against something solid at the very back of the shelf. A book.