Kiss To Shatter Novels & Stories

I say that part in my head. “My point is... you slapped a guy in public, and I thought we’d moved on after that dramatic episode. Then I blink and boom, you and ‘Mr. Slapped Cheek’ are aggressively kissing by the entrance like we were in some steamy Telemundo special. I was halfway through applauding when that other woman showed up and—pow! Plot twist. Girl, what is this, a live-action telenovela reboot? I should have brought popcorn.” She sighs heavily. “I don’t want to talk about that idiot.”

I snarled into her, held her during it, and didn't let go until she sagged, gasping, trembling. I kissed up along her, draping her body with heat. Her chest heaved, her eyes drooped, and her lips parted. "Better?" I whispered, brushing hair from her sweat-sheened forehead. She laughed, gasping. "You… bastard. You destroyed me again and again." I smiled, kissing her mouth, slow and deep. "That's the plan, baby. I shatter you, I mend you. Then I shatter you some more."

Her lashes fluttered, her breath hitching. I tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Kayla…” She didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. I leaned in. She did, too. Our lips were just a breath apart— Then— A sharp knock sounded at the door. And the moment shattered.

woven between shattered silences. He kisses her. My Thea. My mate. My bonded mate—even if the magic is gone. And for a second, the whole bar blurs. The sound cuts out. The lights flicker in my periphery like warning signals before an explosion. I growl. Low and deep and inhuman. The bottle slips from my hand and crashes against the ground, shattering like my control. Liquor and glass splash across my boots, but I don’t feel a damn thing. I’m already moving.

Another woman giggled, “I’ve been shipping them for ages! Damien and Vivienne, it just sounds right!” My heart didn’t just shatter; it splintered into a million microscopic pieces, each one a sharp shard digging into my soul. I watched, paralyzed, as Vivienne turned her head, her eyes sparkling, and then, with a casual elegance that spoke of utter familiarity, she leaned in and kissed Damien on the lips.

Two metronomes arguing ownership of the same song. Then, impossibly. She whispered, “I would burn cities for you, Zach. Don’t make me watch you burn alone.” The world detonated quietly. Not with sound. With surrender. ⸻ I kissed her. Not gentle. Not pretty. Not symmetrical. It was a collision of bone, breath, threat, relief, terror, faith, violence, and divinity. A kiss that tasted like promises signed in gunpowder and sealed in blood. When it broke, it didn’t end. It echoed.

Like if he had to die tomorrow, he wanted the memory of her mouth to be the last thing his soul carried. And gods, he was shaking. His whole body trembled—his claws digging into the earth at her back as he pulled her closer, closer, closer, until there was nothing between them but pain and history and the promise of love that never asked for easy. She kissed him back. Of course she did. Because when Kael shattered, he didn’t fall in pieces. He fell into her. And when he finally broke the kiss, forehead pressed to hers, breath mingling, eyes still half-wolf and wet with guilt, all he could manage was a broken whisper:

But the only word echoing in my head is karma. And the question that haunts me: who is paying the price? Me? Eva? Annaida? Damon? Because right now, every single one of us is suffering in our own way, caught in the wreckage of what has unraveled. . . . . . . . Hi All, Just a headsup those who have read KISS OF HIS BETRAYAL would clearly understand the insinuations of this chapter. From Chapter 93/94 of KISS OF HIS BETRAYAL.

Francis came with them, silent and watchful. We all sat around the conference table in my office. I placed copies of the agreement in front of each of them. "Read it carefully," I said. "Once you sign this, it's binding. If you break any part of it, we go public with everything." They read in silence. Samuel's jaw tightened as he got to the part about the confession. My father's face went grey when he read about dissolving the partnership. Mirabel just cried quietly into her hands. "This is extreme," Samuel said finally.

Instead, he said quietly, “That man today he wasn’t Vesper muscle. He was a messenger.” “For who?” “For the ones who don’t miss,” Dante replied. “And they don’t warn unless they want something.” Isabelle wrapped her arms around herself, cold settling deep in her bones. “What do they want from me?” Dante stepped closer. “Control,” he said. “If they break you, they break me.” “And if they kill me?” His expression flickered something dark and dangerous slipping through. “Then I burn the world down.” The honesty of it terrified her.