Im Cold Book Novelas e Histórias

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY THIRD POV The fan suspended from the ceiling swirled fiercely and tirelessly such that the swooshin sounds it made as it swirled became the only sound that could be heard inside the room, in conjunction with the air conditioner turned to the lowest, it made the room feel like winter. Unbothered by the freezing impacts caused by the agents of cold in his room, Jeremy sat shirtless on his desk, his two legs on his table as he tried to make something out of the letters inscribed in the book he had in his hand.

Naeva Quinn I must have dozed off while reading, because when my eyes fluttered open, I was lying sprawled across the cold marble floor. The book on hockey, the one I had promised myself I would finish that night, was wide open just inches from my face. My whole body felt frozen from sleeping on the floor. But then, something strange happened. The moment I noticed that I was cold and started shivering, it vanished immediately . I sat up quickly, blinking, pressing my palm to the marble again and it was still warm which was impossible. The floor never changed temperature, at least not like that.

He was pale as a ghost, and his heart had stopped beating. He was already cold as ice. Meanwhile, the sounds of bragging from Wayne's room hit me like a sledgehammer. "Ms. Stewart! Shouldn't we have the doctor check on Frank, just in case?" "Josh’s son is as worthless as his life. He won't die that easily." Jessica's voice was soft, but it cut through me like ice. "Just take care of yourself. If he dies, the Stewart family will have one less problem to deal with.

He held *him*. They stayed locked together for a long time. The frantic energy of the office outside Noah’s door faded into a distant hum. The vile image on the computer screen blurred into insignificance. There was only the solid reality of Elias’s embrace, the steady beat of his heart against Noah’s ear, the warmth that seeped through the cotton shirt, slowly thawing the icy dread. Gradually, the storm within Noah began to slow. The sobs subsided into shaky breaths, then into a fragile, exhausted calm. He could breathe again, the air filling lungs that had felt crushed moments before.

***ABOUT THE BOOK*** The Elf King & I is a romance/humor/fantasy fiction set in the fictional world called Aldous (+ a few more) and the real world, USA. The relationships of the characters are: - BxB for main couples. - BxG for others. This story is bound to have some silly events to depict comedy scenes for a good-time laugh. Nevertheless, though the story may start light-themed at first, it is recommended to brace yourself for a heavy plot in the future.

Most of the books were more ledgers than anything, records of the pack’s history, but there was small section of classic books, some of which appeared to be first editions. Feeling a little excited over the prospect I searched the title, looking at the familiar names, the literary classics, before stopping on a title I had never heard of by an author I didn’t know. I was a big reader I always had been, so it was rare for me to come across an old book that held no recognition whatsoever. With a careful touch I pulled the leather-bound book from the shelf and read through the blurb finding myself amused as I discovered that the book was story of werewolves, apparently written by a human, a fan

I opened my mouth slightly to answer, but no words came out. Nick leaned towards me, our faces getting closer, then he fell silent, waiting for my answer. He didn't touch me, but being this close to him had the same effect as if he had touched me... I couldn't think clearly. I swallowed my saliva to moisten my dry throat, the only part of me that felt cold was my hands, which were still holding the wine glass I hadn't touched yet. The faint smell of aftershave mixed with mint made my brain even foggier, but Nick still looked at me patiently.

She half walked and half ran all the way, arriving twenty minutes later at her destination. The rink was a ruin. But ruins had their own kind of beauty. The moonlight didn't care, it painted the ice in shades of silver making it shimmer like a frozen lake. She ran her hands on the worn boards that gleamed like polished bone under the brilliant moonlight, staring up at the roof that was half-gone. The walls wept with moss, and the cold air smelt of rot and something sweet—wild roses, maybe, crawling up the chain-link fence that still surrounded the ruins.

The walk to the bookstore was shorter than she expected. Nestled between two larger buildings, its faded sign read "Willow’s Nook.” A small bell chimed as they stepped inside, and the scent of old paper and polished wood greeted them. The librarian was a small lady with a bob cut and cat eyed glasses, probably in her fifties. The space was cozy, with narrow aisles lined with overflowing shelves and dim lamps casting a warm glow. It felt like stepping into another world, one untouched by time.

He motions for me to continue flipping each page until he finally holds his hand up, halting me. The two pages are made up of mostly dense print, except for an illustration on the top right. I run my fingers over the ink, triggering something vaguely familiar in the depths of my mind. No, not the depths...I saw this the other night. “What is it about?” I ask. “The rebellion." Roel points to a line in the book that mentions it's formation. “A dark, hideous plague of these lands that has haunted your reign since you were born.” I pull my hand back from the illustration like I've been burned.