Blood On A Rose Novels & Stories

A tiny crimson bead of blood welled up on my skin. "Careful," Greg murmured. He had been standing a few feet away, but at the sight of the blood, he stepped closer, his presence immediately grounding. I reached back in, more cautiously this time, and gently lifted the object out by the stem. It was a freshly cut, incredibly thorny rose. The petals, which must have originally been a dark, velvety red, had been carefully spray-painted pitch black. The edge of every single petal had been meticulously lined with a border of sparkling silver glitter.

As soon as I stepped into the foyer, my eyes landed on Rachel. She hurriedly thrust a bouquet into my hands. When I glanced down at it, I saw that it was a bunch of white roses. However, they were marred by fresh blood, the crimson droplets still dripping onto the floor from the petals. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at the gruesome sight before me. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the roses in a sickening juxtaposition. I recoiled instinctively, my fingers trembling as I clutched the tainted bouquet, my mind reeling with horror at the implications of what I held in my hands.

Valentina I never thought a rose could terrify me. But the one I held in my hand the blood-red rose.felt like a death sentence. Its petals, delicate as velvet, were smeared with something darker. Not just crimson... blood. Real blood. Fresh. I clutched the edge of the marble sink in my en suite bathroom, my knuckles white. My heart pounded like war drums against my ribs. Who left it? When? I had locked this door before I fell asleep, hadn’t I?

To an outsider they'll think it's just a red rose, but in reality it was a white Blackthorn rose stained with the intruders’ blood. No

Marybeth nodded, biting her lower lip, "Camille Something." "Yep, that's her," Elijah said, pointing at the first photo of a lifeless woman slumped against a Bridgewater couch. If it wasn't for the glimpses of white in her sleep set, it would have been hard to tell what colour it was before the gruesome attack. Like her blonde hair, it was soaked with blood. It was the black rose at her feet that caught Marybeth's eye, though. She'd seen black roses before. On P*******t. But she never thought they were actually real—

Would you like to draw a picture for me ? The existence of An, the garden. Looking at all the plants here, and I approached a bunch of thorny roses. The rose plant thrives in lush and colorful flowers. I see this rose with thorns, this is an ordinary rose. It is red, but there are roses that are as red as blood. All the plants that I see here, have their own uniqueness. I stare at the rose in red, I stare at it and stare at it until it doesn't blink.

When I looked down, a little girl held a red rose in her hands and handed it to me. “Oh, thank you. That's very sweet of you,” I said, smelling the beautiful rose as I smiled at her. “The red rose has a meaning. Spilled blood will paint it,” she said, making me freeze on the spot. A lady came out of her house and grabbed her. “Lilith, come inside the house. I am so sorry, Miss. My daughter comes up with random silly ideas,” she said before they disappeared from my sight. I looked at the rose and dropped it on the ground.

Her voice was small as she lifted her head to look at him with her big watery eyes. His heart broke a little when he looked at her. He knelt down beside her. One of his hands behind his back. " I went to find something I thought you would like while you were at the lake. I didn't mean to be away so long and I'm not pretending to like you.", Brodie took his hand out from behind his back. "This is the Bloodrose that our pack is named after.", in his hand was a beautiful flower, deep crimson in colour. He put it in her hair and wiped away her tears.

It was even still dripping from his bloodied hands and the scent of it was so disgusting that I felt like throwing up. He bent over on one knee in front of me and his right hand was holding a black rose. My lips were quivering while feeling the fear within my body. Using the black rose, he gently rubbed it on my skin. It went smoothly and I even felt something tingling inside me as my thoughts went too wild.

I smell the blood trail she's leaving. I leave my mates in my dust. Rose is an apex predator in her element, and she has never felt this strong before. It’s thrilling. Then I see it. A handprint on a tree trunk—small, delicate, glowing with residual body heat. Blood smeared across the bark. Rose's instincts scream wrong. Kira's hands are larger, rougher. This print is almost... dainty. Is Kira smaller than I remember? Or is someone else bleeding in these woods?