Robert Thier Storm And Silence Novels & Stories

My chest burned, my veins crawling with too much power, like something had slithered beneath my skin and made a home. The door banged open again. Rhett stormed in, eyes glowing gold, his hair damp from the storm, rain dripping down his collar. His wolf was close to the surface, teeth bared. “The wards are down.” His gaze snapped to me, feral and sharp. “What the hell happened?” I stepped back, breath catching. “I don’t—” Silas slid out of the shadows by the fireplace, silent as smoke. His smile was a razor. “She doesn’t have to do anything. She is the storm.” His gaze raked over me, reverent and hungry all at once. “And the wards knew it.”

The storm had reached its peak, thrashing against the lodge like a living force, but inside, silence reigned a taut, suffocating silence that weighed heavier than the wind and rain. Rowan’s pulse thundered in his ears, every muscle coiled, every sense screaming that Damien was close, waiting, poised to strike.

They were a pair of monsters ready to devour the world. "We won't sleep tonight," Mavric whispered between kisses. "We'll plan Silas White's downfall.” “And tomorrow, the world will learn that touching Liora Thorne is the last mistake they'll ever make." Liora smiled a beautiful yet deadly smile. "Let's go, Mavric. Let's burn them all to the ground." Outside the building, a massive storm began to gather over the London sky, as if nature itself knew that tomorrow, history would be permanently changed by the world's strongest and most dangerous couple.

Dead. "Together," Silas’s voice echoed in her mind, but it was distorted, layered with the high-frequency hum of the Creator. "In the Silence, we are finally... one." But Lyra Thorne had spent three years learning how to live in the dark. She knew that the Silence was not a sanctuary; it was a harvest. She reached up, her fingers closing over Silas’s wrist, her own violet blood slick against his marble-white skin. She didn't try to pull the blade out. She pushed herself further onto it.

But her breath moved the air around her like wind through wheat. She turned when she felt me. “The Spire has shown me your name,” she said. “Not the one you were given. The one you’re growing into.” I didn’t ask what it was. I didn’t need to. Some names are not meant to be said aloud. Only lived. As midnight approached, the Silence-Storm returned. This time, I met it on the threshold. I did not brace. I opened. And as it passed through me, I felt: the warmth of a hand I had never held

Only the calm of a storm that knows its strength. Then, softer, but no less deadly: “Whisper again, and I’ll turn your murmurs into your graves.” The silence that followed wasn’t brittle anymore. It was bent, forced under her weight. Even Silas didn’t speak. The chamber did not snap back to quiet so much as it folded — like a giant leaf closing on itself, the sound of wings and breath muted under the weight of something enormous and final. At first came the smallest noises: a throat cleared, a chair scraping as someone adjusted position to listen harder. Then, like a tide catching on a cliff, reactions spilled out.

nothing. Or more exactly, he felt the absence of something. An unceasing hum which he had never known continued to exist, a throb so gentle and persistent that he had confused it with silence. It was the aftermath of a storm which had already passed beyond the horizon, its distant thunder finally dying into plain silence.

The blizzard swallowed the glass. Then—nothing. The silence hit harder than any scream. Leo’s coat hem slipped through my fingers like smoke, leaving me clutching at a vacuum of air that tasted of absolute zero. One second, the storm was a thousand howling voices from the past. The next, the world simply ceased to breathe. No wind. No roar. Just a heavy, unnatural stillness that pressed against my eardrums until they throbbed with a rhythmic, sickening pressure.

"In it. Alone." She looked at him. At the water on his face. At the way his shirt stuck to his shoulders. At his eyes, watching her with that intensity she'd come to recognize. "We're not alone," she said quietly. "No." He met her eyes. "We're not." The rain hammered the ground. Thunder rumbled again, closer this time. The world narrowed to this doorway, this moment, these two people. Neither spoke. The silence wasn't empty. It was full. Full of everything they hadn't said. Full of all the moments that had led here.

" Boom— The thunder hit like it was aimed at me. Like something inside me just ripped apart. I wanted to vanish. To curl up somewhere no one could see me. But where? It was all rain. All thunder. All his voice, laughing. Then William called. "Joelle?" His voice was so calm, it cut through everything—the thunder, the rain, even the echo of Nathan's voice. "Are you crying?" I wanted to say no. Really tried. But nothing came out. And like my silence gave him the answer, the tears just broke loose. "Stay where you are," he said, steady as ever. "I'm coming to get you." *** Nathan was single again. A bunch of spoiled rich kids threw a "singles party" at the club, drowning in shots and laughs.