Mrs Vines Dark Winds Novels & Stories

She was no longer a woman; she was a storm in human skin. Beside her, Silas Blackwood sat on a crate, his face pale and etched with a grim, unwavering focus. His mangled shoulder was braced in a leather harness, and he was periodically drinking a dark, bitter tonic Hokan had prepared to keep the silver-poisoning at bay. He didn't complain about the pain. He didn't even look at his own wounds. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, searching for the silhouette of the Old Citadel. "The wind is shifting," Silas said, his voice a low vibration that struggled against the roar of the gale. "The vampires are using the mountain's natural resonance to amplify their cloaking. We’re flying blind."

Vivienne scre‍amed‌ in a p‍a‍nic, trying⁠ to p‌ull R‍hea bac‍kward as the courty‌ard eru⁠pt‌ed into t‌ota‌l, bloody ch‍aos. Blade‍s clashed. Rogue‍ w⁠olve‍s transformed mid-ai⁠r‍, d‍‍a‍rk fur‌ snapp‌‍ing‌ as t‌hey⁠‍ collided wi‍th m‍y v‍anguard⁠. The‌ smel‍l of⁠ c⁠o‍pper,⁠ o‌zone,⁠‌ and b‌urning oak fi⁠lled the n‌ight sky‌. "JAXON!‌‍" Rh‍‌ea s‌creamed as Vivienne dr⁠agged her back⁠⁠ to⁠w‍‍ard th‍e burning wooden d‍oors of th‍e keep‌.

“Vance picked it. It looks like a detective who gave up.” “Good,” I said. “Sit in it and look afraid. That part you will not have to act.” She almost laughed. It broke in her throat. We rolled at five. Vance’s van smelled like plastic and old coffee. A technician named Lori taped the wire again and made me count to twenty. “I hear you,” Lori said. “If the wind picks up, turn your face toward the warehouses. The river eats sound.” Vincent sat across from me and did not pretend to relax.

The storm howled like a living thing. Rain slammed against the safe house windows in hard, cold sheets, and the wind carried a low, guttural sound that made the night feel alive — as if it were breathing, waiting. Adrian stepped into the darkness, his hand still gripping the doorknob. Behind him, he heard Elena call his name, faint over the roar of the storm, but he didn’t look back. He couldn’t. Not when Vincent was out there.

Well, it’s probably obvious to someone who’s been abandoned that a reminder about such an event was a trigger to a much painful breath than death. “Be prepared—” Dark’s voice was deep, groveling, as though it had been pulled from the depth of the ocean, and was echoed by a menacing tone that made it look as though two people were speaking. “—to die!” The mistress laughed as Dark charged blindly. The flames of his darkness lashing toward her as though some kind of lasso whipping in the air, but, as usual, she managed to annihilate it with a wave of her hand. She was the propagator of the Sylvania’s strength and has, thus, full immunity to it.

The wind outside the Draven Estate mourned like a spirit caught between worlds. Rain fell in rhythmic waves, whispering against the tall windows, washing the crimson stains that still lingered from the previous night’s storm. Inside, silence clung to every wall, every flickering candle — a silence too deep, too fragile.

She couldn't help thinking how dramatic he was being this time, even changing tactics—dragging it out and refusing to come back. But so what? She wasn't going to cave just because of that. She was the CEO of Larkspur Corporation. Money and men were two things she didn't lack. Why would she need Ryan? … Ryan's POV In the blink of an eye, fall arrived, and the weather turned cool. After finishing a meeting with a client, I walked out and happened to see Delilah waiting by my car, wearing a beige coat. The breeze ruffled her hair, but it couldn't hide the intensity in her gaze as she stared at me.

he smiled darkly. Rayven’s eyes widened as thick black clouds filled the sky, followed by an ear-splitting clap of thunder and flashes of lightning. One moment, they were seated in the carriage; the next, they stood on a vast, deserted land stretching for miles. The ground was covered with wilted flowers, and Rayven staggered backward as a heavy wind nearly knocked him off his feet. He could barely see now as the dark wind lashed at him from every angle. The bitter cold that followed nearly froze his bones, and tears escaped his eyelids.

Anthony winks before turning to face the reporter, “Of course, what would you like to know?” “Actually, could we start with a kiss? It’d be great for the article.” The woman holds up the camera with a hopeful expression in her eyes. My eyes flick to Anthony who has a cool expression on his face, “My Violet isn’t a fan of cameras. I would like to respect her privacy by not doing anything like that for a picture. You are, however, more than welcome to take a picture of us how we are now. The shot before only showed my back, I’m sure that you finding us here before any other reporter would be great for your article.”

Granted, we’d be confined to the house, but just being together would be so fucking nice. “What’s going on here?” I ask Binx after we make it another mile down the road. A silver Lexus pulls into the newly cleared driveway to the big white abandoned house, followed by a large black van. A woman is driving the Lexus, and I think it’s Natalie Daniels, a realtor here in Thorne Hill.