Skeleton Hand Holding Novels & Stories

Anita," her angelic voice calls to me. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Her soft, delicate hands caressing my face, sparkling green eyes grounding me from the dark past I wish I could forget. "You're safe, it's okay." I bring my hand up, running my finger over the mound of scar tissue. The constant reminder of that night. The raised bump covers the bullet fragment embedded in my sternum. She takes my hands as more thunder rumbles and tears roll down my cheeks. "Breathe Anita," she says in a soothing whisper. My lungs were burning with the need for air and it was then that I realized I'd been holding it. I take in a gasping breath and recall the first time my eyes met her green eyes. My sister had been lifted off me and my eyes opening had startled her. The first time she touched me gave me strength to hold on. I held her hand tight, trying to tell her what happened, but couldn't get enough breath to form words. Sitting in the present going through the same as I had five years ago. "They were all found, Anita. They can't hurt you anymore. It's just a storm. All the doors and windows are locked, the alarm is set. It's just you and me." "Will you keep the light on tonight, please?"

Laura never planned to fall for Jace Salvatore, especially not after the damage, or after the way hatred was the only thing holding them together. Jace, on the other hand, never expected guilt to follow him so closely. one mistake, and one moment, he pushed Laura's life in a direction no one expected. forced to stay under the same roof for a month, enemies were made to coexist, carrying resentment, and unspoken feelings. Between the times they started to spend together, the silent stares and moments they both tried to deny, something begun to grow. it felt like desire, love, and though surrounded by many friends who also had their own stories, Laura and Jace were pulled into a world of wealth, family pressure and family mysteries that was yet to be revealed. this is a story of broken trust forced proximity deep friendships, and the desperate need to be chosen and loved . but can two people hurt each other the most and heal together? or are some scars too deep to survive love

My husband tells me he's a wanted fugitive. He doesn't want to drag me down with him, so he turns himself in and tells me to marry another. My heart aches for him. I scrimp and save to raise our son while waiting for him to be released from prison. It's only when my hair has gone gray that I learn the truth—I see him holding his true love's hand as they go shopping. They buy luxury products like they cost nothing. Only then do I understand that he pretended to be thrown behind bars to be rid of me and our son. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the day my husband pretended to be a fugitive. I immediately call the police and give them the evidence of his crimes. He likes acting like a fugitive, doesn't he? He can spend the rest of his life behind bars, then.

“You don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to, Lilliana,” Dante reassured me, standing in his tuxedo, looking far too delicious to be saying that on my wedding day. “But everything is settled,” I said, trying not to smear too much of my makeup as I cried uncontrollably. “Why doesn’t he love me, Dante?” A sob tore through me. “Come with me,” he said, his voice low and dark—practically a command. “What?” I asked, looking up at the stoic, dangerous man in front of me. “Come with me,” he repeated, holding out his hand. “I’ll make sure everything goes away, fiorellino.” I looked down at his hand, at the tattoos swirling around his fingers. And even though a hand like Dante Gallo’s should have scared me, nothing had ever felt so safe. So I stepped forward, took his hand in mine, and looked up at him. “Take me away.” ** Two ruthless men. One stolen bride. A love too wild to be contained. Lillian thought she had finally secured the life she always dreamed of — until her perfect engagement crumbles in one night of shocking betrayal. Whisked away from the wreckage of her wedding by the dangerous and devastating Dante Gallo, she finds herself caught between two powerful forces: Dante, the mafia king who has loved her from afar, and Damien Volkov, the lethal enemy who refuses to let her slip through his fingers. Torn between loyalty, passion, and a fierce desire for freedom, Lillian faces a choice that could break all three of them. But what if she refuses to choose at all? In a world of power, obsession, and forbidden love, some hearts aren't meant to be divided — they're meant to be shared.

The night before my wedding, my mom got into a car accident—she needed a blood transfusion, fast. Her blood type was rare. Mine matched. I was pregnant, but I didn't think twice. I donated. While I was bleeding out, losing my baby, my fiancé, Joffrey Habsburg, and his brother—my so-called childhood friend—Mateo, were busy holding Nancy's hand during her cosmetic surgery. I begged Joffrey to save my mom. Only then did he bother to pick up a scalpel. When it was over, he said, "Surgery failed. She's gone." Two days later, I overheard Nancy purring through the door, wrapped around the Habsburg brothers. "Mateo really is a racer—he hit that old hag dead on. And Joffrey? You were amazing too, making sure she didn't survive the surgery. Thanks to you both, I got Lori's blood for my operation."

On our third wedding anniversary, Kent gave me a gift. A black metal wristband. Cold. Sleek. He called it a new product from his company—a pain-sharing system. The other user was Violet. His "girl bro." The person he was closer to than his own sister. Kent brushed a hand over my cheek, his gaze soft. "Clara, you're too coddled. You should learn from Violet. She's tough." Then he snapped the wristband onto my wrist. So while Violet got a full-back tattoo and an entire sleeve, I felt every single needle. When Violet went wingsuit flying, I collapsed at home. Every bone in my body felt shattered. I threw up blood. While she soaked up attention online as the "extreme sports queen," I was drowning in nonstop pain. Kent sat beside me, holding my hand as he cared. "Just hang in there. Violet's just being herself. As my wife, you should be more understanding." To finally push me over the edge, Violet decided to livestream herself jumping into the ocean to make me die in her place. Their friends couldn't wait to watch. Later, I watched calmly from a hospital room as the system slowly drained the life out of her. Kent looked deranged as he demanded to know why I wasn't dead. Because I had already reversed the system. All her vitality had become the nourishment that sustained me.

[Rebirth, writing, slag abuse, one-on-one, no abuse!] She was the king of mercenaries who made the world's big men talk, holding a piece of ancient jade in her hand, repairing the truth, medical skills... all proficient. Unexpectedly reborn, she turned into an upper - class joke, school people see the evil school slag girl? The king of talented mercenaries, who used to deter the entire mercenary community, said, "Don't make trouble. Waste incompetence? How do you feel about being twisted off by a piece of waste? The last? Come on, let your sister tell you how to write the word "genius!" She doesn't have the talent to do business, financial, managerial half - sister? Well, do you know that the present king of commerce cried and begged her to accept him? Father unknown? As soon as her father's name comes out, the world will shake! A magical ancient doctor, she is the god of heaven in the eyes of countless patients. Sweeping the army, she is no one on the road dare provoke. Beauty coexists with acting. She is the goddess of the circle. A rebirth, a new life, she is still alive, accidentally become a national citizen who no one dares to provoke! Life and death on one hand and fate on the other. The misogynist should play face-to-face, play the rich, play the entertainment circle, and conquer someone by the way. * * * [Little Theater] Old man: It's almost midnight. Are you still busy? Man: No. Then you go out so late? Man: The family is strict. The Lord

I glared when his hand reached again to my neck. Our faces only an inch apart. His big hand was almost wrapping it whole. His thumb massaging my throat like a feather. "And when I thrust inside of you, I want to hear you scream my name. Every name of mine." "Dante. Adriano. Sol. Di. Angelo." His thumb stroking the center of my neck while uttering every name he owned. His eyes hooded in heat, lust clouding the windows of his soul. "And when you cum, it'll be Dante you moan." --- Hailynn Fleury is a talented painter. Growing up as an orphan, she and her best friend Ethan, always wanted to get back to the people that helped and cared for them. When one of her friends convinced her to auction her paintings at one of her charity events, it didn't take much persuasion knowing the money would go to the orphanage. On the night of the auction, her future took another turn when she saw a handsome man holding a gun. Later finding out that he was a mafia boss with an intention of keeping her from thereon. Witnessing him pulling a trigger to someone would have been the mafia boss' wisest decision to never let her go. Except that he couldn't touch the girl knowing the promise he had with his cousin. Dreams of bedding the girl is no longer an option. But how will he treat his ragazza, really? Find out how both of their lives took a turn- with the aspiring artist and the Italian mafia boss.

“Do you take this woman to be your wife? For richer or poorer, in sickness and health, will you remain faithful to her for the rest of your life?” I looked at Bridget with deep affection and was just about to speak. “Wait!” shouted someone urgently. I turned around in confusion and looked toward the audience. There stood a man holding a baby in his arms. He said pleadingly, “Bridget, our child is hungry… could we pause the wedding for a moment?” Hearing this, everyone erupted in an uproar. It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck me. Only then did I realize that Bridget had a child with another man. Bridget hurried off the stage, then turned to me coldly and said, “I only agreed to marry you out of obligation. But the moment Vernon appeared, I knew it. There’s no one else I want to marry but him.” So, she took off the ring and dragged the man away without looking back. I stood alone at the end of the aisle and clutched the undelivered ring in my hand, as a flood of bitterness crashed through every corner of my heart.

Marcus's sixth patent had just gone through, and he said he was going to give me the grand proposal, the one that would close out four years of dating. The campus quad was covered in candles and roses. Marcus stood in the middle of it holding a bouquet, his eyes shining. He was halfway through his speech when his graduate student Claire threw herself into his arms. The plain silver band on her finger, identical to his, caught the candlelight. The crowd went still, then started murmuring. Every face turned toward them with the kind of look people get when they think they've stumbled onto a secret. And I was standing in the middle of that crowd. His girlfriend of four years, the one he had kept hidden the entire time, watching them hold each other. Watching him swallow the rest of his speech. Watching him hand my flowers to her. My phone buzzed in my hand. A message from S. "Sweetheart. Have you thought about it? We know we were wrong."