Blood In Roses Novels & Stories

Rose's POV The dream was terrifying. I was standing in a vast, empty hall adorned with wedding decorations. The air smelled metallic, thick, and suffocating. My wedding dress, pristine and white moments ago, was soaked with blood. The vibrant red seemed to pulse, a grotesque reminder of something I couldn’t yet piece together. My gaze fell downward, and there he was—Finn, lying in a pool of his own blood. His lifeless eyes stared up at me, accusing and hollow.

“While you were away. Lord Rustyn. He brought something from Lady Celia and the queen.” My jaw tightens. But my eyes are on the roses. Even in winter, the cursed things bloom. Blue roses that climb the black stone walls, their petals sharp against the frost. They wither and bloom in ghostly cycles, yet never touch the ground. Always vanishing midair, leaving behind only that sweet and rotten scent. It clings to your throat, making you feel the misery etched deep within it. “Rogues?” I ask, eyes narrowing on a cluster of petals curling into vapor.

Red, vibrant, beautiful roses peering out on the field. The scenery was indeed beautiful and for a moment I forgot how hungry I was. I walked the field, trying to enjoy the scenery, but when I touched a rose, a bloody human eye opened, shocking me to the bones as I backed away in horror, touching more of the roses behind me and all of them started opening up their bloody eyes as the sky turned red immediately. I gasped and immediately jerked up, realizing that I had fallen asleep.

For a second, I could not understand what I was seeing. My mind refused to accept it. It tried to fix it. To turn it into something normal. Something harmless. She fell. She fainted. She is just resting. But none of it fit. None of it made sense. Rose was on the floor. Not sitting. Not leaning. On the floor. Still. Too still. And there was blood. So much blood. It spread across the rug beneath her. Dark. Too dark. Too much. My breath caught. Then everything rushed at once.

Rose then after talking to her parents and introduced them to Alex, opened the wine bottle, poured it in the glass, sprinkle some wine on the graves, and has a sip. After wine, she took out a bunch of red roses from the carry bag and started decorating it on both of her parents’ graves. “Rose you brought rose flowers then chrysanthemum?” “My parents love red roses, especially my mom. She was very fond of red color, and red roses are her favorite. In fact, I inherit her most of fondness and habits, therefore, I also love the red color and red roses the most.” RED ROSES…….. RED ROSES……..

Red strobe lights began to flash from the ceiling, painting the sterile corridor in a rhythmic, bloody glare. "Stay behind my spine," I barked over my shoulder, my eyes sweeping the hallway for more targets. Rodah stepped out of the elevator right into the puddle of warm blood spreading across the tile. Her bare feet were stained red instantly, but she didn't scream or flinch. She gripped the SIG Sauer with both hands, her knuckles white, her green eyes fixed on the bodies. The loose black silk of her robe was damp from her own sweat, clinging tightly to the heavy curve of her hips and the dark circles of her nipples.

The irony hit hard. As we drove further in, we stopped in front of the second villa. I stepped out and gaped—it was the most beautiful one of all. Painted soft white and pastel pink, with tall glass windows gleaming under the afternoon sun. Inside, the living room took my breath away. Gold and blush accents framed the walls, and the air smelled faintly of vanilla—my favorite scent. What a coincidence, I thought. A woman, probably In her early fifties, appeared from what looked like the kitchen. She smiled gently and spoke quietly with the assistant. I barely listened, too overwhelmed to focus on their conversation.

I demanded, clutching Roses tighter. The Queen looked at me like she was staring into a mirror long that was long shattered. “You carry the blood of foxes mixed with the blood of wolves,” she said. “And more than that, you carry the truth that was hidden from us all.” I blinked, my throat tightening, my mind refusing to accept her words. But Roses stirred then, turning her head and cooing softly, as though she had recognized the Queen too. The Queen’s lips parted, her hand clutching her chest.

With that, Luna Samantha walked away. I stood there for a minute, trying to wonder what she was talking about. But then the scent hit me again. 'GO FIND MATE' May yelled in my head. It snapped me out of my trance, and I headed for Masons' room. As I stood infront of his door, my heart continued pounding. His scent was very strong, so I could tell the smell was coming from him. But something was off. Mixed with his scent was something vile. Like raw sewage. I knocked on his door, but no answer. I grabbed the key to his room he gave my out of my pocket, and quickly unlocked his door and walked in. I never could have prepared myself for what I saw.

They seemed to express that I didn't want him anymore. Facing 50 acres of land, Jeffrey finally realized that I, like these departed roses, would not return. The roses had been given to another woman by him casually, and its owner would not return because of himself. I would no longer plant flowers for him. He would never see me holding roses and asking him, "The roses are ripe. When are we going to get married?" He realized that roses had feelings too. I was willing to be trapped in a greenhouse by him because of my love for him.