Applebloom Novels & Stories

Huxley grunted, everyone turned toward him with a disgusted face. "I didn't expect that to be viral." He said as if we caught him. "Go to the toilet." Eleanor groaned, pushing him out of his seat. "Alright, applebum." He winked. "I told you not to call me applebum!" She snarled. "Why is he calling her applebum?" Matteo, Max and Giovanni father, asked. "Because she has a mark formed like an apple on her butt." Peyton rolled his eyes. "Can we please stop talking about this?!" She said with embarrassment.

Amber nodded just before a contraction rippled through her. As the moon rose to its peak, the Lunas began to push. Amber was the first to birth to her child, which I expected. He was a healthy boy with blonde hair and blue eyes. I passed the boy to Alpha Damien to clean him up as I turned my focus to Michelle. The moon reached its peak as the female was born. I called to Selene and the moon turned blue before she descended to earth. We clasped hands and began the incantation to seal her powers. The wind picked up as we finished the spell. She turned to her beloved creatures and smiled, then faded and returned to the moon. I quickly put the blinding spell on the female and watched as they cra

“It’s a nickname, you know, because I am the boss. My name is Manzitti, Manzitti Goldrick.” I hold my hand out to her for her to shake and get those tingles I had been told about when you have contact with your mate. It is the most magical feeling in the world and I almost groan in satisfaction. I notice sparks crossing my palm and although she does not see it, I think she feels it. Her eyes widen when she looks up at me and it feels like time has frozen. Alpha ,she has failed the credit check and there is something you have got to see. I tell them I do not care, just give her the car. I will settle it. Alpha, the car is being arranged right now but honestly you have got to see this.

The heavy steel platform ground to a halt. The doors hissed open, and the brilliant morning sunlight of the Glass Conservatory spilled over us. "You broke the parameters," Franco breathed. He stepped forward, waving his armed guards back with a sharp flick of his wrist. His dark eyes darted between me and the lethal operative standing obediently at my shoulder. "The Apex Bloom was designed to leave one survivor. A single, ruthless victor. You spared the soldier. You defied the architecture."

As she passed her phone to her colleague, I snatched the phone from her and watched the livestream. It was Arya. She was in an orchard, basking under the heat of the sun, and standing on her tiptoes to reach the apples on the branches. She, without any makeup on, wore a simple cotton dress and had her hair tied back in a ponytail. Her skin had been tanned into a rich, wheat-gold color. She smiled at the camera and began her narration, “These Honeycrisp apples are perfect for making pies. My grandfather has grown them for thirty years…”

I’d learned where to stand so the wind wouldn’t betray me, how to let the fire breathe instead of forcing it. Progress. Actual, measurable progress. I held my hands out, palms up, and coaxed the flames forward. They curled obediently this time, thinner, steadier, like ribbons instead of whips. “Well look at us,” I murmured. “Functional.” The fire flickered, almost smug. I laughed under my breath, then frowned. “Don’t get an attitude. You’re literally part of me.” I was so focused on maintaining the balance—heat but not hunger, light but not rage—that I didn’t notice the way the air changed. Not at first. The woods went quiet, the usual nighttime noises fading like someone had turned down a d

I could tell he'd sprayed it with his cologne. I found a plastic bag in the front pocket containing some strange-looking vials. Kha had attached a note: "The brown one is nasty but the best for pain. Just dip your finger in a little and lick it off once a day. You'll hate it, but it will help with the pain and help it heal. The green one will help you sleep. If you use it, I will do the same. I love you, Eve. You are the reason I exist. Please don't forget that."

The twenty-seventh spring is distinct from the twenty-sixth in the way that all the springs have been distinct from each other: the jasmine at a slightly different time, the plane trees returning in their own order, the specific quality of the light that is the same every year and is never quite the same. Jordi and Noa are four months old and noticing spring. This is not a metaphor. They are at the age of noticing — the age where the world outside the apartment window has become interesting as a distinct thing, as something that is not the apartment and has its own qualities. Jordi sees the light change and responds to it; his mood shifts with the sky in a way that Valentina finds both famil

She would do anything. "Second," Iris continued, "you'll need the buds of a certain plant. The one with red petals and a black center. The one that the red-haired woman showed you at the rogue king's palace. Heartbloom, she called it. It has the power to heal the deepest wounds, to cure poisons, to restore what has been broken." Gianna remembered those gardens, the strange and beautiful plants growing in that hidden space. She had seen Heartbloom there. She knew what it looked like.

“Do you smell it?” My frown deepened. “What nonsense are you blabbering about? Have you lost your mind?” He turned his head away from me, doing that weird sniffing thing. “The whole palace needs to be rid of moonveil blossom.” Moonveil blossom. There was nothing like that planted anywhere on my grounds. “I think you have officially lost it and you better pray to the goddess that I don’t lose my shit.” “Who put this flower here?” He motioned to the discard bouquet. “Whoever put this here is bathed in the moonveil blossom.”