Blood On A Rose Novels & Stories

PROLOGUE "Red is always symbolizing love. But for Rose it had never been love. It was blood. Even her name has red on it. Blood that she hates. If she has the time to turn things back on, she will never ever tie herself to the man that she once loved. "

“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.

Both are yours to keep. The next was softer. Romantic in my own kind of way. A blood-slick ear, still dripping when I placed it gently among a bed of deep red roses. The petals soaked up the blood, turning a deeper shade by the second. The note read: Your name is written in every death I cause. You can't wash it away.

Her fingers trailed through every one of the dark inks, Nails crawling with an intoxicating feel as they traced hard lines of muscles like she was tracing sin itself. He groaned deeply, the sound low and guttural as he bucked his hip like it could keep him grounded. Her pupils narrowed hazily and her lips pouted “You have a rose on your chest” she mumbled. “I love roses but this one seems to have tears on it” “It's Blood, dolcezza” He corrected, covering it out of sight with a palm when her countenance paled with horror flashing. “I hate blood, it smells, it's a disgusting and scary sight—it's as if the nerve cells in your brain stop working even by merely sniffing it” she retched then colla

*Bang* Red Rose kicked a Blood Golem away from her and dashed towards another to her right. Her eyes gleamed sharply as her red hair swayed in the wind, carrying the scent of blood. The Blood Golem that had gained her focus pushed forward fearlessly, knowing nothing of the thing called death. Without any hesitation the Blood Golem leapt at her, pulling back its arm and delivering a powerful blow that aimed to smash the war general of Intersection into a meat patty.

Roman continues to chatter about everything and nothing, I wish he would shut up and let me think. He takes my right hand, that's when I notice a single black rose. Wait, why didn’t I notice that before. That's when I feel it, a thorn from the rose pricks my palm and I suddenly come over all hot. I try to pull away but Roman holds on, he continues to act like he has no idea there is blood running down my wrist.

Her mother needed the flower to save her father's life, and it only bloomed at a specific time, under a specific moon. And Rosalie's blood had been needed to activate whatever powers the flower held. "Well, why not—" I pressed the palm of my hand to my chest, the blood oozing between my fingers as I pulled it away and placed my hand firmly on the carving of the lily. I didn't have special blood, I knew that much, but I had nothing to lose at this point. I stood there with my hands pressed against the altar for several minutes and nothing happened. Frustrated, I pushed my hand against it with all my might, grunting with effort before pulling my hand away.

I smiled and held it to raise my eyes evenly red with this rose. It’s not bad to make my symbolism sharp arrows again. Where on the night most awaited of all, my rose will kill the life of whoever hurts my loved one. Cluster of bloody roses in cluster of sharp arrows that will soon be covered with blood. Wait for the return of the dear princess with her lifelong symbolism that I will embrace until death.

“I fought my body. It sounds crazy but that’s exactly what I did. My body wanted to obey his command so I had to force it to listen to me instead. My attacker was surprised by this and when I told him to leave me alone, he listened.” Now that I hear myself say the whole story out loud it sounds more than crazy. I sound like I should be checked into a mental hospital. “Rose…” I look at Paul when he trails off. The words appear stuck in his throat for a second but then he looks me in the eye and says, “That man was a vampire.”

He clenched his fists as he stared out the window of his penthouse, the city sprawling below him like a maze. "You lied to me, Matteo," he murmured to himself. "You think you can hide her from me?" A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts. Rafael turned, narrowing his eyes at his trembling informant. "You said you found something," Rafael said, voice like silk wrapped around a blade. The man nodded, sweating through his shirt. "In Matteo’s jacket... sir. We found... this." He handed Rafael a small, dried rose, stained dark red. Blood roses.