Kiss Of Kill Novels & Stories

I am only trying to do something far more difficult and far more honest, which is showing that survival is layered, that love can be both healing and frightening, and that trauma does not end at escape, it echoes, especially in children. What A Kiss For Every Bruise Is Really About This story is not about a rich man saving a broken woman. Not at all. A Kiss For Every Bruise is about: ~A woman who survived a narcissist and must now choose herself, again and again ~A man who loves deeply but must unlearn the instinct to claim instead of support ~A child whose first understanding of “father” was violence and whose future depends on what replaces that memory ~The invisible damage caused by charm

“The kiss.” “Yes.” His gaze locked onto hers, unreadable. “Your goodnight kiss.” Her breath caught, fury and fear warring inside her. “You’re insane.” “Perhaps.” He leaned closer, so close she could feel his breath against her skin. “But you agreed.” Her heart pounded violently, yet she refused to let him see her crumble. Slowly, with trembling defiance, she rose on her toes and pressed the lightest, quickest kiss to his cheek. Barely a brush.

Vincenzo smirked. It was obvious that one kiss wasn't enough. He leaned forward and grabbed Wade by the collar, smashing his lips against his, devouring his mouth and tongue hungrily. A moan slipped free from Wade's lips. "Fuck you," Wade moaned. "Fuck you back," Vincenzo flipped Wade and pushed him onto the table. "Wait..." Before Wade could protest, lips and sharp teeth found their way to his skin, sending shockwaves of pleasure up his spine. He ran his fingers through Vincenzo's silky strands as Vincenzo kissed his neck all the way to his throat.

“You sure? I could be a very different person than the one you think you know. How do you know that I'm not a terrible person?” “Because of this.” I leaned down and kissed him. His lips were soft and tender, and full of desire. There was strength and sweetness. It was all about emotion and the gut reaction his kiss gave me every time. I didn't care if this was a fling or real. Everything a girl could ever want in a kiss was in his lips. “When you kiss me, I know all I need to.”

She never wanted her kids to grow up in this darkness. Damon’s fury finally softened, though the madness still lingered in his eyes. He pulled her close and kissed her — and she didn’t protest. But it wasn’t passion, nor love. It was raw, hard, consuming, a collision of desperation and violence. She could taste blood on his lips, acrid smoke clinging to his breath, the metallic tang searing her tongue. The kiss was suffocating, unhinged, more like a claim than an embrace.

"If I kiss you right now, will you stop me?" My breath caught. He was giving me a choice. Did I want this? Yes. But was I ready to admit it? I didn’t answer. Instead, I reached out, my fingers brushing the collar of his shirt. That was all the invitation he needed. "I'll take that as a yes." With a low growl, Alessandro closed the distance, his lips claiming mine in a kiss that was slow yet searing. He didn’t rush. He took his time teasing, exploring, and making me feel every second of it.

I whispered, testing how his name felt on my lips again. Something dark flickered in his gaze. His hand shot up to cup my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Say it again.” I hesitated, feeling something shift between us. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm and demanding. I swallowed, my voice softer this time. “Kaine.” A low growl rumbled from his chest before his lips crashed into mine again. The kiss was different this time, less controlled, more desperate. It was as if he was trying to prove something, to burn himself into me so I wouldn’t forget.

"No, that's impossible! Clara was Blackclaw Pack's Luna! She must be buried here!" Harold's snarl split through the air. "But she was the daughter of our former Alpha from the Starlight Pack! She was like a precious niece to me, and you killed her with your own hands! And now you refuse to lay her to rest? You defile the dead with your selfishness, Connor!" Harold's following words were spoken with finality. "If you don't hand Clara's body over today, I will bring the Starlight Pack to attack your Blackclaw Pack tomorrow!"

" Smack! With a vicious swoosh, the scepter struck Sam's chest without any reservation. "Gahhh!" The searing pain shocked him fully awake, and his scream tore through the house. His thin pajama shirt split apart, revealing a long, crimson mark across his chest. Smack! Smack! Smack! Even then, the exorcists showed no sign of stopping. The three of them took turns, striking Sam's abdomen, ribs, and thighs over and over, their attacks raining down mercilessly.

Killian snarled into my mouth, cutting off my breath as his lips descended upon mine in a fierce, carnal collision. The kiss was not gentle. It was a dark, possessive tempest of raw fire and unchained shadows, born of a protective fury so deep it bordered on agony. His teeth grazed my lower lip, demanding entrance, and the moment I parted my lips with a ragged whimper, his primordial magic flooded into my mouth—dark, velvety, and endlessly deep. He kissed me as if he were trying to consume the memory of the blood-stained well right out of my throat, his hands digging into the midnight leather of my combat tunic, pulling me up into his body until my feet dangled inches above the floor.