Mina Flame Novels & Stories

“And I know you’re lying when you say you don’t want me around.” The words landed like a punch she hadn’t seen coming. Her knees weakened slightly, and she turned to look at him, eyes wide and unguarded for just a fraction of a second. Something cracked open between them—fragile, terrifying, and luminous all at once. Not enough to break, not yet, but enough to glimpse the fire that had always simmered beneath her calm. “I’m not used to people being nice without a reason…” she admitted softly, barely above a whisper.

It was war smelling the mate bond. I thought the bond was dead. “You smell like power now,” he growled. “Like storms and the moonlight. What really happened to you?” I stood tall, refusing to hide my body. “I survived. I was what you tried to kill.” Damon’s jaw dropped. For the first time, I felt pain appear right in his eyebrows. “I was wrong, Annie. Cassandra lied to me. I only allowed pride and fear to make me throw away the best thing in my life… my coming Luna.”

“This is where rogues end up. Black Moon. Jade’s playground.” Silence stretched between us, heavy with shared grief and unspoken losses, broken only by the fire’s soft crackle and pop, and the gentle, rhythmic breathing of Lila as she slept curled in her furs. The flames cast dancing shadows across Mara’s face, highlighting the fine lines etched by years of survival, her warm brown eyes reflecting both sorrow and quiet resolve.

"Don't judge her, she had a rather rough childhood, having grown up in foster care, she fell into bad company. To cut the long story short. Damon caught her when she was trying to break into Lucian's car. Damon was instantly smitten, and he begged Lucian to not punish her. Lucian understood and allowed him to keep Rain as his mate." "That's very romantic, I wasn't aware of your past, Rain. Glad to know you met Damon and ended up here." I said. "I am not very proud of my past. I was young and stupid." Rain replied, she was still embarrassed. "You are part of the family now, nobody's going to judge you, I am happy for you," I reassured Rain.

“Smart. You will need to be.” “Who are you?” I asked. “What are you?” “I am memory. I am wrath and witness. I am the first spark they tried to bury. I am what was chained to silence when the world grew afraid of what it had made.” “The First Flame,” Mira whispered. Freya’s no, its head turned toward her. “You named me. As if names could cage me again. But yes. I am the first.” I swallowed hard. “You’ve taken her. She chose to awaken you, not to become you.”

The ash began to swirl, rising in spirals, glowing with inner light. A figure formed from the flames and ash. A woman, tall and elegant, her entire body made of living fire. Her hair was flames, her eyes were embers, her skin rippled with heat. She wore no clothes, but the fire covered her like a dress, constantly moving, never quite revealing anything solid beneath. She was beautiful and terrifying. "Who are you?" I demanded, though my voice sounded small in the face of such power. "I am Ignatia," the flame woman said, her voice crackling like a campfire. "Guardian of the ashes. Keeper of the sacred grounds."