Johnny Silver Hand Novels & Stories

One small exhale, barely visible, and something in him went quiet in a way that had nothing to do with peace. The gold left his eyes. Not gradually. It pulled back all at once, like a tide that came in too fast and overcorrected. Silver replaced it, cool and certain, and the man looking at me then was not the man who had taken that one step forward. This one had already made up his mind. I looked down at my hands. My nails had broken the skin on both palms. I had not felt it happen. Four small marks on each hand, barely bleeding, the kind you make when you hold on too hard to something that was never yours to hold onto.

The wood was familiar, like a continuation of their shared story, and when he opened the box it gleamed—silver and delicate. Trixie’s breath caught. Inside lay a ring: a slender band of rose gold, engraved inside with the words “Luna, forever”. Centered in a pale moonstone that shifted colors in the light, it glowed like hope. He knelt. The wood of the floor was cool under his knees, rough grain pressing through his jeans. He lifted the ring gently and looked at her softer than she’d ever seen him, rawer and more certain.

The ink trembled at the end of her name. He didn’t look at her. Couldn’t. The scribe closed the book and gave a small bow. “It is done.” That was the moment he was supposed to turn to her. Touch her. A hand to the shoulder. A brush of fingers against hers. Something that signaled possession, or unity, or whatever hollow gesture passed for affection in this house. But Xavier didn’t move. His body refused. He stood there, stomach churning, hands still behind his back like he was bracing for something he couldn’t name.

Her fire, her presence, her silver thread had entered his mind and wolf alike, and there was no denying the tension that now bound them. Silver flames had been kindled. And they would not fade quietly.

Why were they staring at me like that? One of the younger rogues stepped closer toward the bars weakly. His lips parted slightly. “…silver,” he whispered. The others went still. Liya suddenly awakened fully inside me. She was alert, and Focused. The rogue’s breathing quickened. Then abruptly, he dropped to his knees. The sound echoed harshly through the dungeon floor. Every guard tensed instantly. My breath caught. The rogue lowered his head deeply. “Silver Wolf,” he rasped hoarsely.

One raised its head to the dawn and howled, the sound tearing through Kaelen’s bones. Werewolves. The pack fanned out, circling. There were at least six, maybe more in the shadows. Kaelen gripped the useless remains of his poker before realizing it had melted to slag. He had no weapon. Only the fire inside him, and that was as likely to kill Elira as their hunters. The largest of the wolves padded forward, towering over the others. Its silver eyes locked on Kaelen. “The blood stirs,” it growled, its voice a gravelly rumble that no beast should possess. “He belongs to the Moon.”

His gentle smile gradually disappeared and was taken over by a mysterious and oddly blank look as he stared at those silver irises. "Silver..." Hamish whispered, lowering his voice to a cold and hollow tone that made my spine tingle. He raised his hand, his fingers hovering a few inches above the baby's face and tightening his jaw until a muscle in his cheek jumped. "He has silver eyes, Valkyrie.”

"Miss Ellington cannot reverse dead heart tissue every single day! Keep your blood pressure down for five minutes so we don't have to carry you back to the Citadel in a box!" Silver ignored him entirely. Her bright, sparkling eyes locked onto me as I walked slowly toward the bedside. "Ignore him, Darcy," Silver beamed, her smile stretching wide across her soft cheeks. "I'm Silver. Thank you for saving my neck at the Silver Fang Club! If you hadn't used that raw pressure to stabilize my bloodline, I would have been food for the rogues!"

The one at the front had his hand in front of his throat as though to tear off his throat, while the one at his back aimed for his spine. Seeing this alone, I know that he would not be able to escape death. Josh was not the only one in this deadly position. Almost all of them were. Ryan, in a kneeling position, was surrounded by three of them. Two were holding him down, with one stretching out his left hand and the third one aiming his hand to the area where the hand that was stretched out and the shoulder meet. Jay was already on the floor with a broken leg and hand, trying to get up from the floor.

Lily forced a smile at him and even offered him her hand when they were done kissing. Mr. Silver eyed her graciously and, without bothering to say a word to Lily, he held Ava's hand and led her away. Lily, Mrs. Smith and Greg all stood at one point staring at each other, almost wishing that the ground would open up and swallow them, as they were ashamed. Mr. Silver led Ava to his grandfather, and they exchanged pleasantries. The old man was particularly pleased to see that his son had finally harkened to his words and gotten himself a wife.