Wind Breathing 9th Form Novels & Stories

To Dove Carmicheal, the thought of Hell and Demons were along the same lines as flying pigs and Hogwarts. But then Fate thought it would be funny to shove the evidence in her face in the form of a wicked deadly sin, a kidnapping, and the Devil himself. MATURE SCENES. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Every year, like any other school out there, Apo University has its annual celebration and prior to this event they have what they call University’s Ambassador and Ambassadress Search. Every college should send and choose a pair to represent their respective college and course. But the supposed to be a happy celebration turn out a tragic and traumatizing event. One of the body’s contestant found lying down without any pulse rate and it’s not breathing anymore. Police investigation said that it was a suicide. But here’s Nine and Maxine that didn’t believe that their friend would do that such thing, they’re insisting their friend isn’t a suicidal. The concern and eagerness to bring the justice to the death of their friend lead them to investigate the case with their own even though the Police men wanted to close the case. However the case mysteriously brought them to something they never expected.

In a world where the moon's power reigns supreme, twin sisters Ava and Ada must navigate a treacherous web of rivalry, jealousy, and forbidden love. As they form unlikely alliances and confront ancient enemies, can they put aside their differences to save the supernatural realm from destruction?

On the day Yara Cullen was released from prison, it was raining. A chilly wind carried the drizzle, striking her as the media swarmed the prison gates. "Ms. Cullen, in the Crestwood Estate sexual assault case, your client lost the lawsuit and took her own life six months ago. Her mother is demanding accountability. Do you have anything to say?” "Ms. Cullen, your attorney's license has been revoked, and your mentor was forced to retire. What are your thoughts on this?" No matter how the reporters pressed, Yara kept her head down and pushed forward, forcing her way through the crowd. A black G-Wagon was parked by the roadside, where Westley Langston leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette. Beside him, Elena Cullen tugged at his arm. He turned, glancing toward the prison gates.

In the final seven days after I decided to depart for good, I transformed into the daughter my family had always dreamed of. I conceded to Remy's every whim, never to fight or deny her. When she wanted to use my work for a contest, I deferred. When she wanted me out in the frost and howling wind, I did just that. My quiet compliance led my family to think that I had learned the error of my ways. "You've finally accepted that you owe Remy so much, and that you have to compensate her!" Even until the end, they never understood why I couldn't care less. "Fiona, why aren't you saying anything?" To that, I could only smile. "Isn't this what you've always wanted?"

After transmigrating into a novel, I realized the heroine and I had the exact same name. Naturally, I thought I had transmigrated into the female lead. So I marched straight to the man who was still a broke nobody at the time, threw all caution to the wind, and pounced on him like I had plot armor protecting me. He even glared at me with red eyes and told me he hated me. I honestly thought he was just into the whole push-and-pull thing. Everything shattered when the real heroine showed up and I finally understood one thing. He actually hated me. Heartbroken, I packed my bags and got ready to disappear. The next second, he pinned me against the wall. "Where are you going? Already bored of me, sweetheart?"

Layne needs to pay off the hunter who is threatening to sell her dad off to the highest bidder. One year, one million dollars. How does she plan to do it? By working as a for-hire mate at her auntie's high-end mate (escort) service. Easy enough to spend a little less than one month each with a man who she doesn't have to sleep with if she doesn't want to, right? With never-ending love for her dad and writing off love with anyone else, this beautiful bombshell plans to throw caution to the wind and sign up for the ride of a lifetime for the next year. Get in, make money to save dad, get out. Keep her head in the game and her heart out of it. That's the game plan. How hard can it be to stick to it?

I was reborn. Right back to the day I adopted Peter. The wind cut sharp, baby cries slicing through the cold. That's when it hit me—this was the day Stuart Pete, my oh-so-loving husband, dumped his illegitimate child right in my path after work. He knew me too well. The second I picked the kid up, he'd spin it into an adoption, making the boy ours. Last time, I fell for it. This time? I walked away without a second thought. Later, I heard the kid got pneumonia from being left out in the freezing cold—fever so bad, it wrecked him for life. I laughed until my stomach hurt. What I didn't see coming? Peter was reborn too—about to experience the life he was meant to have.

Sephina never wanted much—just a quiet life, a warm oven, and a place to belong. But the night she’s thrown out of her home with nothing but the clothes on her back, all that disappears. Desperate and alone, she takes the only job she can find... serving food to the monsters she was raised to fear. The werewolves. Fierce, beautiful, deadly. Everything her world told her to avoid. Especially him. Lucien, their king, is colder than the northern wind and twice as dangerous. When their eyes meet, something stirs—something neither of them understands. It’s not love. It’s not hate. It’s a pull. A bond. And it’s wrong. Because Sephina is only human. Isn’t she? As secrets start to rise, she’ll have to face a truth buried deep in her blood—one that could tear her apart... or change everything.

At a dinner party, my genius painter of a husband, Henry Shepherd, used his hands, hands insured for millions, to shell crabs for his young assistant, Tamara Lee. This was all to coax her into eating a few bites when she claimed she had no appetite. Meanwhile, I drank myself into a bloody mess, trying to secure investments for him. When I asked him to hand me some antacids, he refused without even looking up. “These hands are for painting. Use your own.” For ten years, he couldn’t even be bothered to change the way he treated me. That night, as I sobered up in the cold wind, I asked my lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. "Henry, in this vast, chaotic world, our paths end here," I said inwardly