Winter Soldier Zola Novels & Stories

Together. Hands tight, muscles seizing, bodies bucking. Their hips jerked through it like their brains were still trying to climb into Lior’s body, like the fantasy wouldn’t let them go until it wrung every drop from them. Meanwhile in the kitchen, Mrs. Finch raised an eyebrow as powdered sugar whooshed across the table. “Zara Anderson, that’s not a sprinkle. That’s an avalanche.” Zara beamed proudly, cheeks dusted in white. “It’s snow! For the winter theme.”

“I love you. I’m not leaving you to fight alone.” My throat closed. Zander shifted again,wolf, massive, silver. “We move. Now.” We ran back into the fight. Hybrids lunged. I tore through one, claws in its gut, teeth in its throat. Winter beside me, frost exploding from her hands, freezing a rogue mid-leap. Zander took another, ripping it apart. We fought side by side,blood, snarls, magic. Winter chanted,low, steady, foreign words rolling off her tongue, curling in the air, frost and lightning answering them:

“The terrain was difficult. The interference from the Sterlings and the Cross network was ....” “The terrain?” Lord Zima interrupted, letting out a dark, mocking bark of laughter. Zima was the youngest of the four, dressed in a suit that cost more than a small hospital. “You are a Volkov, Viktor. Your people were born in the snow. You don't get to blame the terrain for letting a bleeding woman and a nanny outrun a tactical unit with night optics.” “It wasn't just a woman,” Viktor said, his voice dropping into a dangerous register. “It was Evelina Prokofiev.”

An older and experienced born omega was equal to a gamma so they became seen and referred to as that. I'd caught the bear's smell for the first time since he'd mentioned it, just when he stood up from the settee and announced its presence. Winter wouldn't have recognized and if she had she was sure to make a mental guess of what it was due to how horrible it was. It smelt like a complex mix of burning yet decomposing flesh. I rushed to the window to see, beside Poppa. *** "I'm guessing you don't have a wolf or do you?" I turned to Winter. Though I'd asked, my mind was already concluded on the subject. She didn't have a wolf. City-bred kids rarely did.

On the day I was diagnosed with stage four cancer, Vivian Cross handed me a contract for a divorce reality show. I already knew that meant she'd lost another bet to her secretary, Miles Smith. They'd made ninety-nine bets over the years, and every time, Vivian let herself lose on purpose. She lost the house we decorated for our wedding. She lost the wedding itself. She even lost our son's body, handing him over so Miles could satisfy his twisted curiosity about the human body. Our baby had been seven months along when they donated his remains. He'd been so small. Vivian slid the contract across to me, tapping the papers. "Ethan, I lost another bet. It's just a reality show. Help me keep M

He suddenly grabs Ruby’s coat and points violently at the window. Then at me.Then he draws the same symbol in the air as before: A circle.A crack.A falling star. Aunt Ruby pales. “No. No no no. That symbol again—” Noelle smiles. “He’s trying to warn you. Isn’t that sweet?” Mom rounds on her. “Warn us about what?!” Noelle doesn’t blink.“He’s awake.” My heart stops. “Who?” She leans in until I can feel her breath. “The Winter King is fully awake now. And when he awakens…” She sighs dreamily. “He remembers.”

I see Elio, Cahya, Marquis, Baylee and a few other guards surrounding Winter, who appears unbothered as anything. He’s in a white t-shirt and jeans looks so causal with his blonde hair slicked back, even in the moonlight it looks like a halo is around him. Those piercing ice blue ocean eyes snap to me and I fall back, wanting to break the eye contract. How does he know it’s me? “It’s simple, I’ll leave as soon as you give me what’s mine and no one else has to die,” Winter taunts, his voice sounding ragged, deranged. Someone died?

“What is?” Victoria gestured vaguely toward the Winters family. “You people.” “That narrows it down.” “The whole winter immunity thing,” she continued. “Meanwhile, Silas and I are over here pretending we’re not freezing to death while the rest of you apparently belong in snowstorms.” Silas, sitting near the cave entrance after shifting back, looked entirely unimpressed. “You complain when it’s warm too.” “That is unrelated.” Calix crossed his arms loosely. “You were complaining before we even left.”

Zara attended a winter festival held by a wealthy pack. Everything felt new and breathtaking. Crystal lights, the scent of wildflowers, laughter, and noble werewolves dressed in expensive clothes. Little Zara ran everywhere, too excited. Until a girl from an elite pack a spoiled Alpha’s daughter mocked her. A small argument turned into anger. And with one cruel shove, the girl pushed Zara into the pond. Cold water swallowed her small body. Zara couldn’t swim. She panicked, swallowed water, her nose burning, her chest on fire. The world turned dark and spun. She remembered kicking wildly, trying to survive, but her body grew heavier and heavier.

Silence returned, thick, heavy, and broken only by the howl of wind outside and the crackle of the dying fire in the hearth. It was snowing harder now, white sheets whipping against the tall windows, visibility down to nothing. The cold penetrated the stone walls, seeping into the room like a living thing, but it wasn’t cold enough. Nothing was cold enough. Not the blizzard. Not the ice in my veins. Not the centuries of discipline I’d spent building. Because the need still burned. Her. Zolani.