Blood On A Rose Novels & Stories

Unlike the pencil and crayon that ought to be on paper in a child’s room, blood was used to write the message. The blood was still fresh and left a metallic scent in the air, and I squinted my eyes to be able to read the message properly. She sleeps like an angel, and angels belong in heaven, don’t they, Damien Creed? I hear a gasp from behind me and spin around to see Rosaline standing behind me with horrified eyes. She was paler than a ghost, and her eyes were red with tears and fear. She bolted to our daughter’s bed and shook Ariana vigorously.

There'll be mountain for us to climb, There'll be days when the sun won't shine, But, I'll stick to it, I swear. ------------------------------------ MIKAEL I stared at the rose imprinted on my upper arm, exasperated. The rose was still a bright red, fortunately for me. Just as I started to turn away from the mirror, I saw the rose turn blue. Then, it turned red as quickly as it had turned blue. Another wave of dizziness washed over me and I gripped the sink hard, my knuckles turning white.

The scent of roses clung to the air, thick and sweet, but there was nothing gentle in the garden where Serenya had been cast. The blossoms were not flowers at all—at least not natural ones. Their crimson petals shone faintly under moonlight, shimmering with a sheen like wet blood. Their thorns were long, curved like hooks, and when she reached too close to push aside a vine, it snapped forward, drawing a line of red across her wrist.

“That’s how you survived. The Moonrose. Tell me—what does it actually do?” He gave a dry chuckle, pride bleeding through his ancient voice. “The roses come in pairs. I have the white one. Kiran has the black—far more powerful, but dangerous. Like soulmates, these roses are bound. Mine has kept me alive. More than that—I am the rose now. I don’t just use its power. I am its vessel.” Without another word, I unsheathed my blade and sliced my palm. Blood welled and dripped into the ceremonial bowl. Rhaegos, resigned, did the same. Our blood swirled together—ancient, powerful, defiant.

It made him wonder if he really did deserve her trust, and this extent of secrets revealed? Crystal seemed to know what he was thinking and said, "Somehow, half of what I just told you isn't a secret. It's left for the knowing mind to figure it out. Rose is blood. Rose is lust. And Rose is danger. Blood because of her colour. Lust because of her petals. And danger because of the thorns that do protect her from being held. There's no exception where you'd say she only gives herself to the one she deems special. No there's nothing like that for Rose. She gives herself to anyone really. But the question is, can they be able to hold her for long, while spilling blood? You see, Rose isn't like Cl

Rose had gone back to her room and was staring blankly out the window when she got there. After being pierced by pointed fingertips, her flesh bled bright red blood, which fell from her hand and stained the dark dress. Her eyes were afire with confusion, and her irrational feelings were suffocating her rationality and encouraging her to engage in harmful behavior.

Title-Blood Marshal had his head in the sky as he flipped through pages searching for a black rose, he found nothing but old pictures of roses, they seemed to be experiments on turning red roses into black roses. “What do you need?!.” Aiden asked. Marshal turned around and smiled. “I need a red rose!.” Marshal told Aiden and immediately he left. “What else?!.” Helios asked. “I need the blood of a goblin and Pixie!.” Marshal told Helios.

As Rose prepared to take the gardening scissors, she didn’t know how the scissor was placed the opposite way and had touched the blade tightly that caused her skin to be cut. “Ouch!” Rose quickly retracted her hand, wincing as fresh red liquid dripped from the corner of her fingertips, slowly falling to the wilted flowers. In a hurry, Rose left to find a towel to stop the bleeding. What she didn’t know was the flowers that had turned brown slowly had it discoloration to dilute, as though someone had poured more white paint in it, diminishing the dull color from the petal. Rose’s blood that had touched the flower, continue to slide over the stem until the soil absorbed it.

The blood in Roses, an organization built and funded by Harry just so he could enact his long plot of revenge. An organization that took several lives, both within and outside the organization, an organization that strives to reach medical and technological advancements, not for the good of the country, but to be used and facilitated for his sole desire to seek revenge against his brother.

His fangs extended with a sharp, involuntary snap. Around us, every vampire in the chamber looked drunk on the scent. I jerked my hand back, but the unseen power locked our hands together. My blood dripped between our palms, glowing faintly, sizzling where it met the marble. The hall went utterly still. The strangest thing happened. It floated. Rose into the air—our blood. The priest I'd called out for being a phony, her voice grew louder, shriller. “The blood calls—she answers!”