Blood In Roses Novels & Stories

A red rose which shines and clearly emerges into the room because the whole room is black. And everywhere in the room there are black roses and that's why this red rose looks more beautiful. I held my body and, with the force of my right arm, I sat on the floor, then I stood up and walked towards this red rose. It is so beautiful and attractive. I have never seen such a beautiful rose, a red rose with so many petals, about twenty, before. I sat beside it and saw that rose which is so attractive and isn't an ordinary rose. On seeing this rose, I just thought about my past.

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.

He said and chuckled. "No, Obviously No." She said while rolling her eyes. "Now, let me pluck the thorn out of your back." She continued and observed that a large thorn has punctured his back with a large stem and few petals of a dark red rose similar to black shade. "It's okay darlo. The person should not be afraid of thorns if they crave for roses." He said while Irina plucked out the penetrated stem of a rose. He acted to hiss in a pain.

I held my breath, breaking out in sweat as his proximity made fear spread through my now shivering frame. "You see... The Black Rose is a bad crowd to stick with. They'll lead you to your death. As a friend and a man who's insanely attracted to you... I advise you to cut all ties with them." His smile remained on his face, his voice still the same low, soft lilt it had been since he started speaking. Yet... There seemed to be venom in every syllable, burning through my skin like acid, making my heart pound painfully against my chest. I was afraid. This man... there was something about him, something sinister. He was going to hurt me. He wanted to hurt me.

"Are there any other wounds on your body?" Rose asked coldly. At the moment, she had no interest in Camellia copying someone else's hidden weapon. She was covered in blood, especially on her chest, a large patch of bloodstains. Camellia lowered her gaze, her eyes slightly dimmed, and then swept past, turning her back to Rose. "There's an external injury here." Rose cautiously lifted her blouse, revealing her pale skin stained red with blood. The sight was horrifying, and she steeled herself to remove the small stone lodged in her. Camellia winced in pain as she pulled it out, realizing the weight of both their bodies shouldn't be underestimated.

I lifted the lid. Inside, on a bed of black silk, was a single, perfect red rose. But it was wrong. It was too red, too alive. Its thorns were long and sharp, and from their tips, thick drops of dark red liquid fell slowly, like blood, but they never hit the bottom of the box. They vanished into mist before they touched the silk. And it was… singing.

a voice of resentment was heard. She threw red roses at my immobilized bloodied body, then they fled the scene. As red as the color of the van that sent me off to my death, my innocent blood flew to the ground. Add up the petals of the red roses that floated and danced on my yet, flesh blood. Shocked, devastated, betrayed, I mumbled just one word before seeing the dark, “Why?”

“You look… beautiful.” I felt my cheeks flush as I took the roses from him, their sweet scent filling my nose. “Thank you, these are lov—ouch…” I pulled my hand back, having pricked my finger on one of the thorns. A drop of blood welled up, bright red against my skin.

Nicole didn't answer; she opened the note, and her eyes filled with tears as she read what was written. "They say the color of red roses comes from the blood of Aphrodite. When her great love Adonis died, as she went after him, she cut herself, and a drop of her blood fell on a white rose, turning it red. Aphrodite decided to plant vast gardens of red roses to remember her great love." She sighed deeply. Inside the envelope, there was also a photograph. It was of Leandro's garden, where he had planted hundreds of red rose bushes. "Can you leave me alone, please?" she said, unable to hold back the tears streaming down her face.

If she could just find a way out…. A loud click. She spun. The door behind her creaked open. Not the hallway door. The panel behind the bookcase. A man stepped through the narrow passageway, dark curls damp with sweat, a gun in one hand, blood on the other. His shirt clung to his sculpted torso, open down to the middle of his chest, smeared with soot. But it was his eyes, those ice-blue eyes that rooted her to the floor. Alonso.