Kissed By Shadows Novels & Stories

“So I’m your shadow now?” Damian stepped closer, eyes sharp. “You’re under my protection. There’s a difference.” The room seemed to shrink, his presence pressing in, heavy and undeniable. For one terrifying, intoxicating moment, Amara wondered if the danger wasn’t outside at all - but standing right in front of her. The man cleared his throat. “There’s more.” He tapped the folder again and slid another photograph across the table. Amara’s blood ran cold. It wasn’t her. It wasn’t Damian.

It shifted from shadow to flesh to shadow again. The cloaked figure stood behind the shadow that was trying to crawl toward its target. With its free hand, the figure pushed back the hood of its cloak. Marx saw the face of the woman; solid, then shadow, then solid again. She lifted the shadow to face her, the thing hissing threats. She opened her mouth to show the same wispy columns of white teeth, her face turning partly insubstantial. From the shadow’s mouth, a silvery light appeared. It passed from the shadow to the woman. She released it and it broke apart into nothing.

Kit yelled from somewhere behind him, his voice sounding muffled, as if from behind a wall of water. Siron wanted to call out to him, wanted to tell him to "run," but his tongue felt heavy and numb. From the corner of his eye, he saw Kit trying to approach, his face filled with horror, but a wall of shadow suddenly appeared, blocking him, thick and impenetrable like liquid asphalt. Leave us, Alaric’s voice hissed, this time directed at Kit. He belongs to us now. Siron felt the warmth of his own blood in his nose. Drops of blood flowed from his nostrils, then floated in the air, absorbed by the shadow in his arms. One drop. Then two. With every drop, the form in his embrace became more solid,

I whisper, “is shadow-travel.” Her lashes lift, though her eyes see nothing but the soft abyss. Her lips part, breath ragged. “It’s—” “Terrifying?” I finish. She swallows. “Yes.” “And beautiful.” Her gaze finds me even here, where no light shines. She nods. “Yes.” Something cracks inside me. This moment—the two of us alone, held in the womb of shadow—feels more intimate than any kiss. More damning than any vow. Her body trembles against mine. I slide my hand from her cheek to her jaw, steadying her. My thumb grazes the corner of her mouth. She leans into the touch, and it sears through me like fire.

It takes a few moments, until I am able to push away from it with a grunt, summoning the shadowed portal. As it slowly forms I hear the shadows whispers grow louder, beckoning for me. The whispers of the endless fill my head, call to my despair, and I am absolutely taken. The tendrils of shadows emerge for I am too weak to even walk through, clutching at my chest as if I could pinpoint the seed of desolation that grows within me. With the touch of shadow, it combines and loosens me, providing me with a brief notion of relief- I close my eyes at the finality, the kiss of death.

I was getting really tired of Adrian repeating things back to me that I obviously had no clue about. "I—I'm sorry, Rose. Truly, I am," a serious look covered his handsome features and his tone took on a slightly more ominous note. A chill began to run through me at his sudden change and I sat up to pull my knees to my chest, bracing for what he was about to say next. "Shadow kissed is a result of someone being brought back from the dead by a Spirit user. It isn't very common but there have been recorded instances of it happening and some studies have even been documented." I tried to take a deep breath, but my body suddenly seized up. I sat there motionless, unable to think or speak. Adrian

waiting. Because shadows... never die.

A connection that drew us together, igniting a spark between us. The gentle brush of his fingers against my skin. The electric thrill of our first kiss. The moment he filled me completely, banishing the shadows and flooding my world with light. But now, I felt myself being pushed back into the darkness. The weight of the shadows pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. I could no longer feel my legs; they had turned to stone beneath me. The machete slipped from my grasp, falling in slow motion as if time itself had frozen.

But in that touch, she felt everything—the fear, the desire, the battle within him. She closed her eyes, leaning into the kiss, her hand reaching up to rest against his chest. His arms tightened around her, and suddenly the restraint melted away, his kiss deepening as though a dam had broken inside him. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer, and she felt herself surrendering to the pull, her fingers tangling in his hair. The sound of footsteps approaching the door jolted them apart, both of them breathing heavily, their gazes locked with a shared understanding that whatever had just happened was real—and there was no going back.

I said with emphasis on my words. But he didn’t listen to me. He grabbed the back of my head and shoved his palm into my mouth before I could even close my teeth. The moment his blood touched my lips, I lost to the intoxication I was in. I could no longer resist because of hunger. My hand involuntarily hold his wrist and sucked his blood. I was sucking so hard that it made him wince. My eyes glowed gold and turned back to their original color after a second. I only stopped when he pulled his hand away. “You’ve starved yourself so much. You suck a lot,” he said to me as he lick the wounds on his palm.