Beatrice In The Divine Comedy Novels & Stories

Brandon walked into another room and Beatrice followed suit. "Why are you following me around like some lost kid?" He asked. "I need to freshen up" She replied him. "Wait here, i need to use the bathroom...Or do you want us to bath together?" He sarcastically asked. "Stop saying thrash.....After you" Beatrice said and he walked into the bathroom. Beatrice used her phone to order a gown, she texted the address to them and was waiting for them to deliver it.

Seraphina said. Beatrice looked toward the dark windows. “I met him once.” “Where?” “In Halcyon.” Lucian sat at last. Not because his anger had faded. Because the truth had become too large to face standing. “Who are you?” Seraphina asked. Beatrice returned her gaze to her. “My full name is Beatrice Elena Ward.” “I know your name.” “No. You know the one I kept.” “What does that mean?” “My birth records identify me as Elena Ruiz.”

"No, I won't let her. I will do whatever she wants, I will participate in her ritual, I will..." "That's exactly what she wants you to think," Beatrice interrupted. "She is counting on you sacrificing yourself to save him. That has been her plan all along: get you emotionally compromised, make you desperate enough to walk into her trap willingly." "I don't care!" I shouted. "She has my mate! I have to.."

I like your nerves, you will be a perfect partner for me, I can't wait to have you' He thought, and poured himself another glass of alcohol. A Knock got his attention, and he urged the figure to come Inside. "Master, Beatrice is here to see you. I told her you're not around, but she insisted on waiting for you." "Bring her inside right this minute." He left and return with a sad Beatrice who hasn't stop crying her eyes out. Beatrice quickly fell to the ground, and grab his trouser tightly. “Please I need your help, you have to help me, my house got burnt, and I can't find the culprit." She rushed out, soaking his pant with her tears.

’ announced Beatrice who had waddled into the room and stood, her old, leathery face looking weary. And seeing the sorrow on Proserpina’s beautiful face, she took the younger woman in her arms. They stood for a while, each giving the support, the strength that the other needed. Proserpina thought of a line from a poem by the legendary Tennyson, something along the lines of, something that had drifted into her mind out of the blue: Heal thyself; what comfort is in me…? * Camille met them at the doorway. She looked excited. Proserpina stared as she said, her loud voice resounding with happiness as she announced,

Still that same sad, helpless look, but softer now. The fire popped. Beatrice stared at it for a while. Then she looked at Hector. “Thank you,” she said again. “For the food. And the story.” Hector smiled. Small. “Anytime.” She didn’t say anything else. She just leaned her head back against the couch and closed her eyes. She wasn’t better. Not all the way. But she was here. She was warm. She was eating. She laughed. And for now, that was enough.