Wind In Phoenix Novels & Stories

I keep my gaze forward and look through the dark, smoky windshield refusing to look back. The Valley of the Sun, as Phoenix and the surrounding cities are known, is a sprawling metropolis of black asphalt and mostly one- or two-story buildings. The high-rise, big city atmosphere can be found downtown and takes up about forty square blocks total. That’s a pin in a map compared to the rest of the city. Gomez doesn’t ask directions as he navigates the streets. We circumvent the inner city, and Gomez enters the freeway a few miles from Moon’s home. I sit back and pull in a long slow breath of air.

If that's all enough. Almost all the mourners who came cried when the coffin containing Evie's body began to be lowered into the grave, the clear sky turned dark and a cold wind swept over the mourners. The leaves on some of the big trees began to move in the gust of wind, they whispered in a language that could never be understood but could be felt. That the language of the pain of losing someone they know a daughter, sister, friend, and lover who has been swept away by a gust of cold wind.

I didn't realize that I had fallen asleep here and just woke up to the intense ray of light from the sun. It's really hot in the Philippines, it's just a good thing it's windy here on the farm. I stood up and stretched my body before walking away but stopped when I saw Phoenix caressing his pet, Brownie just a few meters away from me. I frowned at that. Phoenix seems to be forcing Brownie to stand up but Brownie couldn’t. Phoenix has this worried expression on his face. "What are you doing Phoenix?" I asked, coming over to look at his pet.

Greg laughs as I fan myself dramatically with my hand. Despite the heat, Phoenix is beautiful. We spend a couple of hours wandering around the city, stopping for iced drinks before exploring local shops and little art markets scattered around downtown. I end up buying a small cactus keychain I absolutely do not need. “It’s cute,” I defend. “It’s a cactus.” “It has a tiny cowboy hat.” Greg looks at it carefully. “Okay, yeah, that’s fair.”

The sound shattered what remained of the pack house windows and carried across Phoenix. A mate's lament. A promise made. A countdown begun. Dawn was only three hours away.

Mel berated after Zyair wind down his side of the car window. "Um... It was...." Lavana couldn't find the words to speak. "It was because of me. As you can see, we've switched seats. So unless there's an emergency, there'll be no stopping. This I can guarantee." Phoenix said after he wind down his side of the car window. "You... Do you know how much time we've lost because of you?" Mel scolded. "I know. I know. And I'm sorry." Phoenix said in a leisure manner.

She rushes over to Phoenix, wraps her arms around his neck, and she jumps up to wrap her legs around his waist, trying to be as close to him as possible and not worried about the harm it may do to her. He falls to his butt, but she doesn’t even squeal. She just holds on to him and buries her face into his neck. I know that Phoenix’s power is lethal and yet, she seems unfazed by it. And slowly, the blackness covering his body retreats, going back to the way it normally is where it only occupies his hands. It’s… magical, watching them. I can’t tear my eyes from them as I wonder is this the power of the mate bond or just her ability as the white wolf? Or… is this the moon goddess giving her som

A breeze brushes past us, and we sense the faint hum of power emanating from the barrier. “This border is different,” Phoenix says, her voice laced with curiosity. She looks at me, her golden eyes reflecting under the fading light. “It’s different from every other in Shadowpine. Most pack territories are marked with physical landmarks or even scent trails. This one feels different and... alive.”

Smart wolf. Outside, the trees begin to thin as the borders of Phoenix territory come into view, and for the first time in years, my wolf feels fully awake.

"Shawn, happy New Year! No matter how far you go, you'll always be the closest person to me." It was Archie Crosby, the underprivileged young man I had sponsored for four years. I had brought him out of the remote mountains and got him into Sienna's company. My finger hovered over the reply box. Before I could respond, I received a notification about a new post on social media. I tapped on it without thinking. The video was only five seconds long. Sienna, who was supposed to be stuck at the office for overtime, was standing on the beach. The wind was howling, and the sparkler in her hand lit up her gentle profile.