Stone Cold Novels & Stories

Both Jordyn and Alma stand there staring at each other. Jordyn speaks first, "What is your name?" Alma pauses for a moment and returns his question without answering. Jordyn sighs. He realizes he will have to open up first. "My name is Jordyn. I own a big real estate firm doing business across the country." "Alma, my name is Alma." She responds as she runs her finger across a statue. "I've never been in such a big house. Do you take girls often without their consent?"

I'm glad to know that he still values me! Jeff had explained to me earlier that we weren't going to the other city where we used to work and stay. He bought this house and he has been using it as his hideout...away from his killer of a brother and other vultures. I can't wait for the day I'll show my face to him...I hope he gets a heart attack that same day! ***** “Dinner is ready.” Sandra announces from the kitchen where she has tirelessly been preparing some chicken stew and spaghetti.

He formed a palm print and blasted it at the Icy Crystal Coldsteel Scorpion. "Damn it!" The Icy Crystal Coldsteel Scorpion's eyes flashed with a demonic cold light. This was the embodiment of its extreme anger.

The crevice between the boulders was a tomb of cold granite. The wind, deflected and channeled by the massive stones, created a keening, inhuman whistle that gnawed at the edges of Anton’s consciousness. His body, pressed against Sabatine’s back, had passed through shivering into a deep, dangerous lethargy. The heat he was trying to impart was a ghost of warmth, stolen by the relentless chill of the rock beneath them and the frozen air around them.

“My life turned upside down today. People I know have lost their lives, Goldie is probably worried about me, and I just found out that big bad wolves exist and walk among us. And they think I'm one of them? It's time to go back the reality. Stone licks his lips, not laughing. - Let's go! ’ I sneer, putting my hands on my hips. "I don't know any of you. I'm not what you think I am. "And our brand?" — Questions from Stone. I draw my eyebrows together. - What? He lifts his shirt. Now I'm not the only shirtless, but I'm not complaining, that's for sure. I don't have time to see his abdominal muscles before he turns to show me his back. Your shoulder blades are defined, rolling with each movement

Lucas was puzzled he couldn't believe he had slept with a total stranger, with his personality and all he found it strang and funny all together. Lucas has a cold personality, he is especially cold mainly to the female gender , thinking back in time, his father Mr Isaac lost his precious wife during childbirth while Lucas lost his mother at a very young age of five . Because of the experience he had to go through and also watching how his father was devastated at that period of time , that was when he said to himself that he wasn't going to have anything to do with the female gender because of fear losing something dear to him.

He just took one slow, heavy step across the threshold, his heavy combat boots crunching loudly against the broken wood of the door, his dark eyes locked onto Tyler’s trembling frame like a laser sight. "You fucking bastard," Stone growled out, his deep voice sounding like a low rumble of rolling thunder that shook the very foundation of the cabin. "You are so dead."

The tail of his white stallion sweeps across the cold stone steps with an arrogant flick. Through all of this, Silas has not drawn closer. He has not left. He simply stands in the darkest corner, where the moonlight can never reach. An unmoving silver-grey gravestone. Bone-chilling ash-scent drifting from beneath his sodden hood. Fatal and addictive all at once. But I know he's watching me. With a silence that feels like it's pulling me into the deepest abyss. The moon overhead is a seething, bleeding red. Inside the iron casket, the Sacred Stone fragment pulses with an erratic, unearthly light.

Chapter 84: The Old Sawmill Luca and Ethan crawled from the icy creek bed, slick with black mud that clung to every fibre of their clothing. The cold had been brutal, searing their lungs, but the sludge offered a brief shield against Maxwell’s thermal sensors. Ethan’s ribs throbbed with each laboured breath, yet the cold had muted the pain just enough for him to move. Their bodies shook violently, teeth chattering, limbs trembling as if their muscles themselves had forgotten how to obey.

The rhythmic, wet sound of stone grinding against stone—*ga-chi, ga-chi*—subsided into a crushing, airless silence. Leo’s fingers, once small and capable of fisting into the silk of my blazer, were now rigid spikes of gold-veined obsidian. They remained frozen mere inches from my own quartz hand, reaching for an anchor that had already become the bedrock.