Stormy Weather Book Novels & Stories

Chapter One The wind howled violently as Grey stared outside his window, people could be seen running Helter skelter to seek for shelter from the violent wind, thunder suddenly struck to warn those underneath the earth that it would rain violently soon. The fierce resound of thunderstorms was heard and then the heavens seemed to pour down their anger in form of rain. Grey frowned as he saw some familiar figures trying to find shelter where he was. He snickered and walked out of the building he was in.

It’s strangle gloomy when we leave the library the next day, So early in April we weren’t expecting any rain fall. Hm. I hurried to the car and drove to my last class. I have my books spread out in front of me, my phone is on silent and deep in my bag, Professor Marks nods at me and I’m glad to be back in his good graces now that I’m not allowing myself to be distracted. As it should be. The weather is even worst be the time I step out. There isn’t a speck of blue left in the sky. Just fat gloomy clouds ready to burst at any moment and drench unsuspecting individuals going about their day.

I found an unknown courage inside me and got up on my feet "Don't worry Ezra your mate is coming ....you can't die unless your wolf defeats me.....the thunder wolf may have power of thunder but I have power of love.." With this he was ready to face the thunder with a disastrous storm inside. A storm that will either destroy the thunder to bring rain or die getting crashed by it's own winds. So let the storm begin..

"Between friends, there's no need for thanks." … When the ship docked, Emma checked into a local hotel to prepare for her upcoming book signing two days later. But she had no idea that a storm was about to strike. On the day of the event, Emma wore a simple white dress and arrived on time at the carefully decorated venue arranged by the publishing house. To her delight, the room was already filled with passionate readers. The moment she appeared, the crowd erupted with excitement. "Emma! I love your books!" "Can you write me a message of encouragement on the title page?"

The first storm of the season arrived in late November, three weeks after Anna's unexpected visit. Leo stood at the studio window, watching the wind bend the trees nearly horizontal and listening to the rain hammer against the glass like bullets. The weather matched his internal state perfectly—turbulent, unpredictable, charged with an energy that felt both destructive and cleansing.

She didn’t appreciate her mate being threatened. “Stand close to me,” I told him. I felt as Storm brushed up against us and Weather gathered our power. She called more and more until the pressure became too much and she unleashed it, a torrent of wind exploding from around us and slamming into the rogues. They went flying into the air, their bodies flipping before dropping to the ground or smacking against trees. Weather stumbled a step, the feeling of all that power leaving us at once making her dizzy. Storm was there for her to lean against, letting her regain her bearings. The wolves that were still alive got back on their paws and charged at us.

I would just sit back and see how her story ended. … After we arrived in Norvira, everyone was busy making final preparations for the next day’s meeting… Everyone except Ash, who was still stirring up trouble. “Wynnie, I’ve never been to Norvira before. Can you show me around?” He wrapped an arm around Wynnie’s slim waist in front of me. “There’s a suit that’s only available in Norvira. Come with me to get it. You always say I look my best in a suit.”

The storm arrived not from the sea, but from the south—a late-season atmospheric river that slammed into the coast with biblical fury. For three days, the world dissolved into a roaring, grey chaos. Rain lashed the windows of Driftwood House in horizontal sheets. The wind screamed like a thing in pain, and the ocean, invisible beyond the wall of weather, announced itself as a constant, ground-shaking boom against the cliffs.

“We can’t take off—not in this weather. The storm’s coming in fast.” Jasmine folded her arms. “Looks like your great escape is on hold.” Chad let out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair. He turned slightly, giving her a sharp look. “This doesn’t change anything.” Jasmine arched an eyebrow. “Oh, it changes plenty.” The wind was already picking up, a sign that the storm warnings weren’t exaggerated. The sky, which had been clear just moments ago, was now darkening with thick, heavy clouds.

--- The book sells well enough. Enough that the publisher asks for a second one. I tell them I need time. That I'm still living the story, not just telling it. Celeste laughs when I tell her. "A sequel?" "Maybe. In a few years." "What would you write about?" "The quiet parts. The ones that don't make headlines." "Those are the only parts worth writing about." --- November brings rain. Not the soft rain of spring — the pounding, relentless rain of Atlantic storms. The windows rattle. Orwell hides under the bed. Celeste and I curl up on the couch, reading, talking, doing nothing at all.