A Ruin Of Roses Novels & Stories

Listening. “The old stories,” Maera said, halting for a moment, “say Flameruin didn’t fall. It fractured. Half its people followed the Queen’s Flame, and the other half chose Arion’s dark fire.” “And both were swallowed whole,” Xavier replied grimly. Ahead, the ruins opened into a vast, broken plaza. Cracks zigzagged across the stone, and a collapsed throne made of volcanic glass stood at its centre. Strange roses had grown in the fractures—petals black and crimson, smoking faintly as if they smouldered from within.

She started wagging her tail and jumping up and down. I swear I just heard her say 'Mate' but that's impossible. Second chance mates didn't exist, and we just rejected our Goddess given mate. But then, the most amazing smell hit me, even more mouthwatering than when I smelled Mason. It smelled like Whiskey and Chocolate. That mixture was breath taking. Aunt Tara noticed me sniffing the air. "Alex, what's wrong?" She asks. As soon as her last word left her mouth, he door slammed open with such force, I thought for sure it was going to fall off the henges. What I saw in front of me left me speechless. A man in his twenties, 6'11, covered in tattos with short kept black hair, and the most beaut

As I put one of my feet inside of the warm and welcoming water filled with the petals of the beloved and most beautiful rose. I sometimes wonder why it has so much love being given to it. It is so imperfect, yet that is its perfection just like all of us--We are perfect and one because of the imperfections of us. I also wonder why a rose just steals my heart every time I look at it--it's just so magnificent. Is it because of the color that it possesses or because of the way it possesses the frail heart of mine? So melted in my thoughts that I was, I didn't realize that I had to get out of the bath to get ready.

I growl, wanting to shove the card up his stupid Alpha ass! I held the flowers out, if they were from someone else I'd keep them. They're actually pretty! Beautiful long-stem roses, each rose was perfect without a single flaw. Those little white flowers, What are they called, babies, something or another are tucked in here and there, surrounding the beautiful roses. I grabbed the flowers in both hands, and broke them in half as I turned toward the garbage can. I growl as I shove them inside and walk away without looking back.

And the blush that was barely receding was back again. "I'm not a pretty little flower, Roses are as pretty as they are dangerous." He scoffed, standing up and even from where he was standing, I could see that he'll tower over me. He straightened out his suit jacket. Eyes boring into mine. "The only dangerous roses are those with thorns Rose, and you my dear, you have no thorns. You're a pretty little flower, a harmless little flower." He walked towards me till he was standing right Infront of me, towering over me as expected, I craned my neck just too look at him. "I'll be taking my leave now pretty flower, say hi to Mr. Potter for me."

A drop of tear landed on the back of my hand. I ignored it and made a rose appear out of thin air just like a magician. "When we first started dating, you were nothing but a bouncer. The owner's enemies came looking for trouble. On Valentin's Day, you were severely injured and covered in blood. I was worried sick. I cried helplessly as I looked at your wounds. But what did you do? You pulled out a rose that you had been hiding, and it was covered in blood." Thomas chuckled as he took the rose from me.

Well, I guess tonight I have to put my plan in motion then. When I step out of the closet, my gaze falls on the bouquet of fresh roses on the bed and the note beside it. Grabbing it, I open it and of course it was the sappiest message ever of him hopping that I can give him a second chance. Taking the bouquet, I fling it against the wall, watching it scatter, the petals falling onto the marble flooring. It’s ruined. Just like I’m going to ruin his life.

Selene’s Pov The wedding planning began the way everything in our life seemed to lately — chaotic, joyful, and thoroughly hijacked by an eight-year-old with very strong opinions about flowers. “Not roses,” Lucy declared, spread out on the living room floor with a stack of Naomi’s old bridal magazines, flour-stained fingerprints somehow still visible on the corners of the pages despite the cookies being weeks behind us now. “Roses are what everyone does. You should do something nobody else does.”

Their friends had invited us for a ball night. And while I was wondering around, I had discovered that little girl behind her window. I would go there everyday just to catch a glimpse of her- till I finally grew the courage to approach her— with flowers I had plucked with my own hands. My chest hurts at the memory. No. I don’t allow myself to remember anymore. Because remembering leads to one truth I refuse to touch. She’s dead. And my father let it happen. “Admit it. That wolf is special.” Zyle says, referring back to the girl with the mysterious scent.

Clarins tending to the roses. "Good morning Miss Nelika!" Her eyes move up to me from the dirt that she is shoveling. The roses are blooming and despite the recent attack, this part has not been violated by the bad wolves. It must be because the gates are closed from the back and the walls are high. "Good morning Mrs. Clarins, hmmm the flowers smell nice!" I raised my chin higher and sniff the air, I can still feel the faint traces of the rogues in the air.