Beast With Flowers Novels & Stories

Breathing in fast paces, still staring at me, yet, like I was a foreign entity. “Bastard.” He suddenly seethed, in a doubled voice. “What? Who are you talking about?” I cried out, pouting my lips in hurt at his sudden state. “Teta…” He trailed his father’s name out fiercely, hands in defense like he was protecting himself from something. When he transformed, his beast stood up, pouncing on the floor in a heavy thud. As he did, broken shambles followed, destroying the entire piece and everything that it entailed.

Beatrice offered and I shook my head. “ I'm fine… It's peaceful out here..” I mumbled and she nodded in agreement.. “ The flowers are beautiful too..” She added and I chuckled softly.. “ I know you are gonna say you wanna be reborn as a flower in your next life..” she chuckled and I burst out laughing.. I remembered how I'd informed Beatrice of wanting to be reborn as a beautiful flower in one of the most beautiful gardens in the world.. “ But it's true.. I do wanna be reborn as a flower.” I muttered while staring intensely at the roses which looked so beautiful under the moonlight..

Mom turns away because she’s laughing. Beckett looks at me like I’ve somehow caused this. “You’re enjoying this.” “Immensely.” He hands me the flowers. “I hope you’re worth losing my truck.” I smell them. “Debatable.” “Woman.” I blink. “So that’s how we’re handling this now?” He grins. And there he is. Not the quarterback everybody watches. Not the boy I spent years trying to avoid. Just Beckett. My ridiculous boyfriend who steals flowers from his mother’s garden because apparently walking twenty feet to my front door empty-handed was unacceptable.

He was the devil that mothers warned their virgin daughters about. He was a Beast. A beast who ruled over all the beasts. He was the King of Beasts. Instead of replying her, he tangled his fingers in her golden mane, fisting them in his hand and yanked her back. She hissed through her teeth, watching him with a helpless expression. He had never seen her weak like this and his dead heart skipped a beat at her expression. He ran his eyes over her figure. She was still dressed in those cheap, ugly pajamas, he wanted to rip them off her beautiful body and bury her in the finest silk and jewels.

I did everything to be a good friend, only to be treated as my so-called best friend’s scapegoat. When her husband found cigarette ash in their house, she claimed I was the one smoking. When she snuck off for a private rendezvous with her lover, she told him she was celebrating my birthday. And when she got pregnant, she pinned the blame on me again, declaring I was consumed with jealousy—that I had spiked her drink and hired someone to violate her. Enraged, her husband marched to my doorstep wielding a blade and hacked me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the exact day she had asked me to cover for her affair.

Alex said, “Moreover, the blood inside your body won’t be drained. On the contrary, you actually profited.” “What bestiality?” The princess was infuriated as she bared her fangs. “Who are you calling a beast? I am royalty with a noble bloodline in the Witch Beast Kingdom. How dare you describe me as a beast? You are the beast. A wild beast. A dumb wild beast.” Alex, the Witch Beast princess, and the White Flayer were all locked in a cage. The White Flayer dared not speak and regarded itself invisible. It looked at the princess with its small eyes for a while before looking at Alex, saying it could not understand their profound conversation.

I woke up from the sound of my stomach growling, without a word; I stood up from lying on my bed; my face was a little hurt from the incident earlier when I saw my reflection, a big purple bruise. I sighed and held my cheek, and started to heal myself. My mom and dad were fascinated with my gift for healing, but it wasn't extravagant; like the doctors from our tribe, I could heal simple wounds or, like mine—Bruises.

I shake my cream-colored fur, stretch my legs and go straight to the woods. It is beautiful at night. Even more through the eyes of a wolf. I can smell night flowers finally blooming after the winter, hear the creatures running around, filling their bellies after long starvation. The earthy scent fills my lungs and I can't help but feel safe here. This forest is my home, my territory, my safe haven. I pick up my speed and run north.

My stomach dropped as I stared at Dr. O'neil's smiling face. Behind him the rich darkness called to me and the beast's growls racked invisible claws down my back. This was no werewolf. Whatever it was, it wasn't of any world and there was Devon. The two scents confused me, I wanted to turn tail and run the hell out of that place.

Walking through the flower field, I could see we’re approaching a statue which was standing at the end of this path. As we finally stopped in front of it, I found the statue was sculptured into a women in armor. She grabbed a pistol with a sophisticated floral motif in her hand. She looked young and beautiful but her face was oddly severe and complicated, as if staring at someone she loathed and loved in the same time. Delicate roses were placed near her feet, showing us that she used to be just as vivid as those flowers. I turned to stare at Mr. Lang in silence, who looked blankly at the statue. His lips were pursed tightly as if trying hard to resist something out of it. He had an inscruta