Hold Your Breath Novel Novels & Stories

Hardin’s POV: My arms wrapped around her and pulled her against my chest. She was still trembling... her whole body shaking so hard I could feel it through both our clothes. "Breathe." I said it softly against her hair. "Just breathe, Harper... you're okay." Her fingers clutched at my shirt. Holding on so tight I felt the fabric stretch. We stayed like that for what felt like forever... me holding her while she tried to remember how to breathe normal, while the terror slowly drained out of her body.

His eyes hold mine, hold them tight, hold them like my breath, like my breath, like my breath, like I am not holding my breath, like I am not holding my breath, like he is holding it for me. The surprise of it, the surprise of him, the surprise of this makes me hesitate, makes me hold my breath, makes me wait. But the surprise is not the same as the fear, is not the same as the change, is not the same. The surprise is something else, something other than the fear, other than the change, other than the exposure, other than everything, everything, everything. It is more than fear. More than the change. More than the exposure. It is more.

Hot breath warmed the hollow of her throat, pausing exactly where her pulse fluttered like a frantic bird. Then teeth grazed the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. Not biting. Just the barest scrape of enamel on vulnerable flesh. A promise and a warning wrapped into one sensation. Emmeline's breath hitched. Strong arms encircled her, holding her back to a broad, unyielding chest as the body behind her rose and fell in deep, carefully measured breaths. One large hand splayed possessively across her stomach, fingers spanning from hip to hip, holding her in place with effortless strength.

He said, breathing heavily, and waited for her answer. She nodded, closed her eyes, and the next thing that happened in history. – Please support my new novel. It's a Fantasy Romance– Female Lead with a different, intriguing twist. I hope you'll like it, and reviews are highly appreciated. Thank you and keep safe always butterflies! Love y'all.

wanted to be held. My ragged breaths had set my lungs on fire as I kept blinking, unable to hold myself upright. I was completely limp as his arms securely held me to his chest while he kissed me gently, trying to distract me, trying to snatch me away from the cold grasp of unconsciousness that slithered slowly into me.

Getting lost in the sensation. My eyes rolling back. And knees trembling. Something building up inside me. What it was? Unknown. " Umm good. Now hold your breath." I debate. Not knowing what he meant. To only hear his voice turn harsh and impatient. " I said don't breathe till I ask you to dammit!" And I abide this time. Holding my breath. To only see stars, like literally. The feeling multiplies ten folds. My body starts shaking. And the thing rising in me, at the verge to overflow.

I won’t let them poison the only love I’ve ever truly known. I forced my breathing to slow, my fingers gripping the cold sink edge as if it were the only thing keeping me tethered. Believe in him. Just believe in him. Please… I opened my eyes and stared at my pale reflection, my lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. I straightened, rolling my shoulders back, as though preparing for battle. I would hold on to the man I knew, or thought I knew. Because if I didn’t… if I let their words take root… I wasn’t sure what would be left of me.

And every time I exhaled, I felt like I was being directed; as if this was all part of a plan I didn’t sign up for. I tried to shake it off. Then it hit me. A scent. Like creamy chocolates, my entire body froze. My mate was nearby. My wolf lunged forward inside me suddenly I had to grip the edge of a stall. My breath caught in my throat. My heart stammered. And that scent—it was close. Somewhere nearby. Watching. I looked to my left and right in search of him. “Luna Ava!” a voice squealed. A small boy, no more than seven, ran toward me and hugged my knees. His cheeks were dimpled, his tiny eyes wide with excitement. I bent down to hug him, using the moment to compose myself.

The simple touch sent an unwelcome spark up my arm. "What is this?" "Open it." Something in his tone… a carefully controlled neutrality, made my fingers pause for a fraction of a second. There was an undercurrent there, something he was holding back. Then I flipped it open, my hands suddenly unsteady. The moment my eyes landed on the first page, my breath caught in my throat. This couldn't be…

Dawn came like a held breath—thin, brittle, the sort of light that makes everyone look more guilty than they are. The Holdfast moved with an economy born of men who have practiced disaster and claim to be finally bored of it. We set traps not because we liked violence but because we understood that choice looks tasteless if you offer no consequence to those who choose wrong.