Black Roses Book Novels & Stories

A red rose is not selfish because it wants to be a red rose. ✾ “Your arm?” I blink reluctantly at the woman in front of me. Biting my bottom lip, I slowly raise my hand and show her my wrist. She grabs onto it, pulling it towards her. She smiles at me, or I think she does, the only part of her that I could see either way was her lips, the bottom part of her nose, and everything below her ankles. Then she pulls a small sharp pen from her pocket, stabs it on my wrist, making me flinch. The pen starts turning red, and just like that she had taken some of my blood.

A gentle hand petted through brown locks, and those warm eyes landed on her again, "What is your favorite flower, miss. Croix?" "I like…" She bit his lip, trying to think, but only one answer came to mind, "roses." An amused chuckle hit her ears, "Red ones?" "…No." A simple denial. "Then what is your favorite?" "I don't have one." The laugh sounded again, and Alina felt her cheeks grow hot.

he asked staring into my eyes like they held answers. I hated the fact I couldn't understand what he said but the fact that he referred to me as a rose made me happy. He tore away from me and stood to his feet, rubbing his face with his palm, trying to catch his breath. I couldn't meet his eyes. For the first time in my life, I didn't know what to say so I just sat quietly, waiting for him to say something. Images of what just happened kept replaying in my head like a movie and a shameful part of me wanted to repeat everything again.

Coby chuckled. "Well, You really eat so less" She smiled Don't smile at any other men like that Rose We walked out the sudden loud noise of a dog barking sends Rose to grab my arm and lean on me scared. I looked at her as she let go immediately embarrassed. But I wanted her to stay near me for just a little longer. Unable to hold myself back I put my arm on the back of her tiny waist and we walked to the car. Coby wanting to go have drinks with a friend and left us alone.

City A, 15 years ago, in a dilapidated house, the firelight was slowly spearing to every corner. The fire made a crackling, crackling, ticking sound that echoed in the stillness of the night. Suddenly, the fire flared up violently. It engulfed everything it passed through. In that deadly fire, the image of a rose playing in the sea of ​​​​fire slowly appeared. It shone extremely brightly and then began to fade to ashes. That rose was like his heart. Since that day, his heart had died, left only the animosity.

“Rose-“ But before I could even finish my word, I felt a hand wrap around my waist and then I was being lifted up and off of the floor and the world went black. **** “You can open your eyes now.” The first thing I noticed as Damien lowered me to the ground was the intense smell of black roses. Since they were different from normal roses, they had a distinct smell which was richer and stronger than any other rose in the world. It was also the only rose that stayed in bloom for an entirety of two months. As I had expected, when I opened my eyes, I was no longer standing in the Shelter, in the middle of the ocean, but in the inner gardens of Damien’s castle, the place where we first met.

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.

The Black Rose was the only flower in a graveyard of ice. But then, she heard it. A faint, rhythmic beeping from her tactical comms. A signal, not from the place she was but from the different dimensions. A path of serenity that no one understood.

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.

"Antonella. I was just thinking about the story you told the children yesterday. About the dragon. I wish I had a dragon to burn down a few things in my life." "Perhaps a dragon is too loud, Señora," I said, walking toward her. I was holding a single Black Baccara rose, its stem trimmed, its thorns meticulously removed. "Sometimes, a small beauty is enough to remind us that we are still alive." I held out the flower. Evelyn’s breath caught. She reached out, her fingers trembling as she took the rose. She brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply, her eyes closing in a moment of pure, unadulterated peace.