Black Hat With Rose Novels & Stories

Priya appears in the doorway before I've finished looking at them. "Boss. Mr. Moreau sent those." Her eyes flick between me and the roses like she's waiting to see which one detonates first. "Do you want me to throw them out with the others?" "No." I sit down, pull my laptop toward me, don't spare the bouquet a second look. "Black is my thing. If it's any other color, don't let me see it." She takes the roses and leaves without another word. I get through four emails before my wolf lunges against my ribs, teeth bared at nothing, clawing toward a scent that hasn't even reached the room yet. I know what that means half a second before the door swings open without a knock.

But when the large doors swung open, my breath hitched. Nathan walked in, his shirt torn, his knuckles bloodied, and a fresh bruise blooming across his cheekbone. But in his hand, he held the rose. The exact one I had requested. A single Nashor rose, deep crimson, its petals thick and velvety, a rare bloom found only in the territory of a pack that would rather slit his throat than entertain his presence. I stared at it, then at him. He looked… exhausted. His breathing was heavier than usual, and for a moment, just a brief moment, I felt something stir inside me—concern?

The drive back to the penthouse was a tense, silent autopsy of their situation. Dante’s fingers were a white-knuckled cage around the steering wheel. The black rose on his screen was a ghost in the van with them. Inside his fortress, the violation was evident. He went straight to the guest room, Elena trailing behind. The rose was exactly as pictured, a perfect, velvet-black bloom with thorns like needles, lying on the white linen like a drop of ink on snow. A small, ornate card was tucked beneath the stem.

Raking my gaze over them, I reached for black skinny jeans and a black bracelet top. "Did you miss this?" Rose asked, holding the key of the motorcycle. She was draped in black shorts, a black tank top, and high knees shoes. I smiled and lunged forward. She pulled her hand back. I pouted my lips, tilting my head to one side. It reminded me of my husband. "To have this, you have to smile." She demanded. My lips curled up into a full fake smile, "Now give me," I opened my palm and wiggled my fingers.

It wasn’t black like I’d deduced at first, but a very, very dark shade of red. He sat on the stairs beside me and took my hand in his while I tried to suppress a shudder. He brought the petal close and wrapped it around the bleeding finger. “Hold down the petal, it’ll stop the poisoning.” He said. “Poisoning?” I asked, alarmed. “You’re a new vampire, aren’t you?” He gave me a wry smile. “Black Rose is used as a key ingredient in a daylight bracelet, but if it comes in direct contact with the skin, it can cause poisoning especially for a vampire.”

His encounter with the guards had left him feeling invigorated, but now his attention was captivated by Rose, who seemed particularly incensed this evening. Rose, donning a black frock and flats, exuded an air of confidence. Her hair was artfully styled in a messy bun atop her head, adding to her allure. As Liam's eyes briefly lingered on her figure, Rose's throaty clearing of the throat snapped him back to reality.

Surely, my mind was cruel enough to conjure this. But when I blinked, he was no longer on the bed. He was standing in front of me. Too close. Dangerously close. His breath ghosted over my lips. Storm-grey eyes locked on mine, a fire behind them that threatened to consume us both. And in his hand—this time—he brought the rose himself. A black rose. Obsession. Devotion. Darkness and desire, tangled into one forbidden bloom. No words passed between us. None were needed. The silence said everything.

I glanced at the flowers in my hands, they were indeed beautiful. "Black roses", I heard Atlene begin to speak. "A symbol of a bad omen to most people because of its color but when you look past that they are actually quite beautiful don't you think?", he said. "Hm, they are indeed very beautiful", I agreed as I brought the bouquet closer to my nose to sniff them. There was a long silence after that. Atlene didn't say anything else but I could feel his eyes on me. I turned to look at him.

The stranger placed a single object flat onto the pristine wooden counter. Then, before Amora could even step forward, the figure spun around and glided out the front door, vanishing into the crowded street like a wisp of smoke. Amora’s heart hammered against her ribs. She walked slowly toward the edge of the counter, her breath hitching in her throat as she looked down at what had been left behind. Resting on the clean pine wood was a single, flawless rose. But the petals weren't red, pink, or white. They were a deep, velvet, midnight black. The stem was thick, covered in sharp, jagged thorns, and a single drop of dark, ink-like liquid clung to the leaf like a drop of poison.

He raised his head to look at her, like he was surprised to see her there. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She’d asked as she tried to pry open his fist. He’d let her, opened it up easily and let her take the rose from his now bloody palm, the flower fell to the floor. “Shit!” She exclaimed as pulled up the hem of her oversized t-shirt and proceeded to clean the blood from his palm. “Are you insane?” she whipped her head up to look at him “Why would you hold a rose that way, didn’t you ever learn that you have to avoid the thorns?”