Silent Vows Jill Ramsower Novels & Stories

Wordlessness in Harrison's eyes. And she added one last statement: They assume I won't hit because I serve. > They assume I won't speak because I hear. They've forgotten who taught me silence. > She closed the book softly and shoved it into the space between floorboards. Then extinguished the candle. Because tomorrow, she'd begin her campaign. Not boisterous. Not out of her mind. But deliberate. She would collect whispers like they collected family heirlooms. And when she'd collected sufficient—

There was no emerald gown to act as armor tonight, and no witty, razor-sharp dialogue designed to keep a client at bay. She slid directly into Jillian’s space, her bare knees brushing against Jillian’s thighs. She reached up, her palms entirely flat and warm as they pressed against the bare skin of Jillian’s chest. Beneath her fingers, Jillian's heart beat with a slow, heavy, and completely honest rhythm. "You're overanalyzing the silence again," Clara whispered, her voice a low, melodic murmur that barely carried in the quiet room.

One morning, she tried to shift, to connect, to feel but there was only silence. Eloise was no longer a werewolf. ..... One afternoon, while she was cleaning near the bar, a waitress stormed over. “VIP Room. Wine spill. Go clean it up.” Eloise nodded. “Alright.” The waitress scoffed. “Again with the damn silence. You really are creepy. If I were you, I’d just jump off a cliff.” Eloise didn’t respond. “Hey! Are you even listening?” The waitress shoved her shoulder. “Slacking off again? You think you’re above this?”

His silence was louder than any words could ever be. His presence filled the room, suffocating in its intensity, yet I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, not without his permission. And that terrified me, but I was too far gone to care. His steps were slow, deliberate, like a hunter approaching its helpless target. My heart pounded in my chest, my palms clammy as I clutched the edge of the table. Every part of me screamed to run, to escape the suffocating grip he had on my mind, on my soul, but my feet remained rooted to the ground.

And so, my heart beat on, slowly and faintly. - One day, an unwelcome guest came to our little sanctuary. Roanna knelt beside my legs, sobbing and pleading, "Miss Palmer, please… Please tell Scott to talk to me again! I really love him, and I can't live without him!" Mary burst out from the kitchen, waving a kitchen knife. "You shameless b*tch! How dare you show your face?" Roanna raised her chin in defiance, shouted, "Kill me then! I can't live without Scott, so kill me!"

Cause we even sleep in one small bed back in the village with his shirtless all around but I found no sparks, maybe because I’m just trying to ignore him and convinced myself that It was just a part of me idolizing him as my best friend but the more it gets longer the heavier it gets for me to hold this feelings of mine towards this guy with the same name as mine. He ordered foods then we ate like a freaking mute for not uttering even a single word until we finished. And I tell you, it wasn’t that painful to hold yourself to not speak especially when you’re facing the man that you secretly like cause you tried to watch every words that comes out of your mouth and making sure that it is all g

Chapter 24 – Guilty Third persons pov He couldn't take it anymore cursing under his breath he got up from his bed and walk towards where he left haya, he unlocked the suite and entered in, he was welcomed by the silence, suddenly a fear ran down his spine and shivered thinking of all the unwanted things which could have happened, getting rid of it, he walked towards the room and found his wife lying on the cold floor unconscious.

This woman truly is remarkable. She finishes her statement moving her chair back, the slightly muffled sounds from her shuffling around echoes through the mic, was the only noise to be heard. And that’s how Atlas Winters makes the world bow to her. This woman is a witch. Smiling, I nudge Jon beside me who’s gone completely silent, and his gaze settles on me, his mouth agape in shock. “Close your mouth and stop gapping at my woman.” I say glaring at him. “What was that?!”

“You can rest for a while. Both of us don’t need to be awake to do a simple job like this.” The healer considered the idea and then nodded. She sat on one of the chairs nearest the window, leaned back, and closed her eyes. She drifted off soon after, the sound of her soft snores filling the room. The other chair was occupied by the only other person in the room besides us and Silas, a maid. She had fallen asleep long ago and snored just as the healer did. I recorded Silas’ pulse and temperature, forcing down the sadness that swelled within me at this terrible circumstance. Once I was done writing them down, I waited to make sure the healer’s breaths were slow and steady. Once I was sure, I s

A drowning man clutching a rotting rope as it sank. In the back row of the gallery, Silas rose. He didn't walk to the witness stand. He just pulled back his hood. The skylight fell upon a face so pale it was nearly translucent. Silver-grey hair hanging like a frozen, dead waterfall in the cold light. His ashen pheromones didn't press down. Didn't exert dominance. They simply anchored him there. Still as a snow-capped peak that had kept its silence for three centuries, finally exhaling its first breath of wind.