Kiss The Dead Novels & Stories

Lydia too. Their voices sounded far away, like I was sinking underwater. Then it was over. I looked up. They both stared at me, wide-eyed. I felt different. Stronger. Like something wild had woken up inside me. “It worked,” I whispered. Lydia looked scared. “Isaac… you look like them.” “Good.” I wiped my forehead, already feeling the heat fade. A new hunger pulsed through me. I smiled, fierce. “Let’s make sure Lucien Devereux remembers this face… right before I end him.”

he whispered again, softer this time. I was still trying to catch my breath, heart racing, when he leaned down and kissed me slow and deep, letting me taste myself on his tongue. From the room next door came the faint creak of bedsprings and a muffled moan —Lupiter’s voice, high and performative. Killian’s lips curved against mine, wicked and unrepentant. “Let them listen,” he murmured. “Let them hear what they’ll never have.” And then he kissed me again, swallowing every quiet moan I couldn’t hold back, until the only name on my lips and in my blood was his.

You could’ve powered the city with the drama pouring out of her. “OH MY GOD. YOU HAVE A MARK.” “It’s not a mark!” “It is! That’s a KISS MARK. A—oh my God—it’s a LIP-GHOST.” My eye twitched. “What the hell is a lip-ghost?!” “A ghost of a kiss! A spiritual smudge of sin!” “I will throw you out the window.” She collapsed onto her bed in manic laughter, legs flailing like a dying insect. “Alina. You’re so dead. You definitely weren’t with Nick. WHO WERE YOU WITH?!”

I promised, going to the door. “One more thing,” he said, crossing the distance between us and taking me in his arms again. I knew his kiss was coming, but even then, I wasn't prepared for it. He took my breath away, stealing it for himself and making me forget that I had ever needed to breathe in the first place. My knees went weak, and my heart pounded in my chest as my body started to heat. I melted into him, relishing his kiss. This was the way to start a morning. “That's better than coffee,” I gasped when he let me go. He chuckled, obviously proud of himself.

Her face drained of color. "H-Honey… You actually speak Aurelian?" Seeing the panic and unease in her eyes, I smiled lightly and shook my head. "It's been too long. I forgot most of it." Only then did she finally relax. She leaned in to kiss me, though her eyes still held caution and doubt. Before I could stop her, her phone started ringing nonstop. Curtis's custom ringtone pulled her attention away instantly. After it rang several times, she stepped aside to answer.

Rashka commanded, his voice dark with malice. Rashka moved through the field, his eyes cold and calculating, ready for the reason he was there. Destruction. His title as the Alpha with the Kiss of Death was well-earned. He approached each of the enemy soldiers, gripping them by their hands. They immediately lose their will once they come in contact with Rashka's touch, kneeling at his feet. Rashka leans in and places a deadly kiss on them. The soldiers' eyes widened in horror before they collapsed, lifeless, to the ground.

A wave of disgust washed over me, and I retched. In the many years I had been with Shawn, he had never kissed me during our most intimate moments. He said he had germophobia, and I bought into it. The truth was that his lips were reserved for the love of his life. Picking up on the noise, the pair in the bedroom looked over. They were the ones having a rendezvous. Yet, I took cover without a second thought. I shuddered from the cold and prayed that Casey would leave soon. I waited an hour, but she didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

CHAPTER 35: The Hard Reminder Francesca’s Pov My face was still burning. I walked fast down the long hall. I locked the door to my bedroom hard, i put my back against the wood. I tried to slow my breathing. It did not work. The kiss was a mistake. It was a bad mistake, i told myself that. I kept telling myself that he is the enemy and that he is the killer, he is the one who took my parents but his story. His story was sad, he was only a fifteen years old boy. That is too young to kill a man, that is too young to be a devil.

I watched Connor closely, searching his face for the slightest trace of regret. But all I saw was mild annoyance. "What did you say?" His voice was cold, distant. "Clara is dead?" Duncan kept his head lowered, not daring to meet Connor's gaze. "Yes… Luna… she was trapped in that well for over ten days. No food, no water… she… she didn't make it." Connor scoffed, as if he had just heard the most ridiculous joke. "Oh, she's still bluffing. Fine. If she's really dead, then call the priest for a ritual. Toss her corpse into the sea and let her see where playing dead gets her."

I said gently, hoping that it was some type of consolation as I moved my face to kiss her cheeks. She turned her head then, and pressed her lips against mine. At first, it was a long, lingering kiss, affectionate and reflecting my current emotion, how much more precious she seemed to me after all the near-death experiences we had in this city. I could die for her. I could die for this woman. And suddenly, we were tearing at each other’s clothes, impatient. Hands moved roughly, teeth nibbled, loud moans, lusty cries, and soon we were fucking in the backseat as our car sped across Budapest in the freezing snow.