Wings Of Fire Series Amazon Novels & Stories

Rain’s POV I didn’t bother to look around where my treasure had brought me to after the ritual. My body was humming with pent up energy and heated lust for my mate. My body burned so hot my clothes burned away from my skin. I watched my naked mate as he gazed at my new form. Scales and blue flames covered my body. My wings were now apart of me. I have never felt so alive and so aroused at the same time.

I should have run. She laughs, short and hard. “Oh, the look on your face! You all assume the same thing. No wings, but enough like the dragons to make us illusionists. The qualifications for becoming one of those monster’s soldiers, a hunter. That was the first word that popped into your head, wasn’t it?” She takes a step forward and my wings quiver with the urge to jump back. But hunters have ways to keep those with wings grounded. “Well, you’d be half right.” Her grin grows. “What do you mean?” I ask, my voice a pathetic squeak. “Half right?”

“But she had me put my hand in her fire and it didn’t burn me at all. I can’t believe it. When Kenna was blasting her fire everywhere, it was so hot. But now ...” “Kenna’s fire is hotter than mine, especially when you add the full force of her emotions behind it,” Ember says to him. When she pulls her hand out of his, Killian looks like he wants to pull it back, but he doesn’t, once again giving her the space she needs. “But you’re right. You are immune to a fire dragon’s fire now.”

It wasn’t her though; it was Osline, but it’s still the same thing. I had to burn my hand to match the exact pain she’s probably feeling, to punish myself. I know it’s crazy, but like I said, I can’t help it. After I rinse away the spilled coffee, I open the cupboard and pull out my lighter. For a moment my stomach drops. I stare at it, heart racing in my ribs. I flick the flame and press it to my arm. I hold back my scream as it keeps burning me. This is what happens when I can’t stop thinking about ‘her’ I have to hurt myself until I can stop.

Just for a breath. Just long enough for doubt to claw its way into her ribs. Then the bond pulsed — Rowan’s fury searing through her, Lucien’s hunger sharpening her instincts. The two currents collided inside her chest, raw and electric. Her hands lifted. Light erupted. A blast of gold and silver burst outward from her core, shaking the hollow. Wolves howled as frost raced up their legs, freezing them mid-stride. Witchfire scattered and died against a shield of flame that wrapped around her like living armor.

I also appreciate honest critics as well. I promise that when I’m back, you’ll have a far more adventurous writing of Fire on Fire Book 2: ELIJAH. Thank you guys so much. Happy holidays!

As the witch drew in breath, the flits floated away from Rori, and as they passed further from her, Rori could hear the sound of fading screams. Rori shoved her hands above her head and lifted her toes to a ballet point before she spun around four times as quickly as she could. The action halted whatever spell Mina seemed to have on the flits and as the witch sucked further, the flits released Murdok’s flame and the wall of dragon fire sailed through the air, blasting Mina in the face. The sudden rush of powerful flames caused Mina to scream in pain and as she tried to cover her burning face, she felt the flames dig into her arm like a rabid dog.//

But when I see the title of the first book on top, I gasp and rush towards it. Absent-mindedly, I sit on the chair and bring it closer to the desk. My hands shake. Why do they shake? I pick the book which makes a bubble of emotions burst in me. "Gone with the wind." by Margaret Mitchell stares right back at me in its red hardcover beauty. My fingers trail each letter of the title as I stare in amazement. I open the book and a note falls from it to the table.

Gold would do to this, Gold wouldn't do that, Gold doesn't like this, Gold likes that. They kill a part of him even before he has the chance to try it. "But just like a phoenix, I am reborn again..." He rises from the ashes. The exact same thing people burn is where he'll come back. This time, stronger and better. This time, he rejects to care about what they think will suit him. This is his life. Another symbolism of fire is judgment. "I love my fans, I really do." He didn't prepare a speech. He's just speaking things that enter his mind. It doesn't have an order.

He looked at me with eyes full of terror—the look of a man who knew he had failed. ​“The West Wing is a furnace, ma'am!” a firefighter shouted, his voice muffled by his mask. “The fire started in the crawlspace—it went up like tinder! We can’t get a team inside yet!” ​I looked up. The West Wing. The stone was blackened, and orange flames were licking out of the windows like greedy tongues. ​That was Finn’s wing. He was supposed to be napping. I left him sleeping. ​“Finn!” I screamed, the sound tearing my throat raw. I tried to run toward the heat, toward the screaming orange light, but a pair of strong arms caught me around the waist.