Bloom & Prosper Candle Novels & Stories

she said curtly. “Outsiders!” Magnus scowled at the remark. “Why are you being so heartless?” He presented the jarful of paper cranes he had folded for her and even made a point of showing her his swollen fingertips. “I remember you mentioned that the best way to get your forgiveness was to fold a thousand pieces of paper cranes for you. “In the two months you have been gone, I feel numb every day. I was like a walking corpse. I can’t handle living without you by my side.

She held it out to Eloise, the flame steady between them. “Hold it,” she commanded softly, her voice carrying both authority and quiet urgency. “This is for my final prayer. Do not let it go out—no matter what you feel or see.” Eloise hesitated only for a heartbeat before obeying. She reached out with both hands and accepted the burning red candle, its warm wax smooth against her palms. The flame danced steadily at first, casting a soft, reassuring glow across her face. But as Mrs. Sola resumed her deep, rhythmic prayer—those ancient, guttural words rising like smoke—the candle began to change.

Just an older man with silver hair and eyes like oil; slick, dark, unreadable. They called him consigliere. Advisor. Manipulator. He smiled at her like he knew everything. Including why she was here. She avoided him for the rest of the day. But that night, as she cleaned the study, she found something. A black notebook, half-buried under a pile of folders. Inside, dates. Payments. Names. Including her father’s. One name was underlined in red. "Project 5B : Initiated by A.D." She blinked. Her breath caught.

“Is there a store I can order something from. Lamps. Anything.” “Not in this weather.” He reached under the counter and produced a small wooden box. Inside were three thick candles, the kind that came with their own glass holder, wrapped in ribbon. “These will do. Scented. For couples.” He held them out with the satisfaction of a man solving a problem efficiently. “You and your girlfriend will enjoy the night. It will be magical.” Amanda did not correct him. I watched her not correct him and felt something warm move through my chest that I decided not to examine too closely right then.

She plucked several, ignoring the sting as the sap touched her skin. Last was moonbloom, a delicate white flower that only opened at night. Its scent was soft, floral, deceptively gentle, but extremely potent when mixed with the others. She gathered three blossoms, careful not to bruise them. The combination would work. It had to. She rubbed the crushed frostleaf along her neck, her wrists, the collar of her shirt. The cold scent burned her nose, but it dulled the warmth of Kaelan’s scent almost instantly. She smeared duskroot along her arms, grimacing at the bitterness. Moonbloom, she tucked into her pocket; she’d need it later for the spray.

The ache was unbearable. My eyes fell on the devotional candle on the small wooden table. It was thick, thicker than two of my fingers together, pure white beeswax, smooth and unblemished--We used them during Adoration, their steady flame a symbol of Christ’s eternal light. Tonight it stood tall and dripping of wax on its brass holder, the rounded tip slightly wider, tapering gracefully down to a solid base. It looked… obscene in the moonlight. My mouth went dry as I imagined its weight, its smoothness. I should have looked away but instead, I reached for it.

When I was seven, I stole a phone and called my mother's family. That was how I finally got her out of the compound where my father had kept her prisoner. When my grandfather stormed into the cellar, Mom was chained by the neck, with bloodstained whips scattered at her feet. He beat my father nearly to death. The man spent the rest of his life paralyzed and bedridden. Before Mom got into the car, she reached for me through her tears. "Evan, come with me." I grabbed the hem of her coat—and then I remembered my previous life. Back then, she had taken me with her. Her family had never accepted her for bringing home the son of the man who destroyed her life. She endured years of contempt for

You hate my father. ‘It’s not complicated. I’m not marrying your father and I’m hoping you won’t want to invite him to our wedding.’ Her heart thudded and skipped. ‘Is that a proposal?’ ‘No. I haven’t reached that part yet but I’m getting there. I have something for you.’ He reached for a box on the table and her brows rose because she recognised the packaging. ‘That’s one of my candles.’ ‘Close. It’s one I had developed just for you. You already have Relax, Energise and Seduction. This one is called Love.’

I didn't need this shit so early in the morning. "Mm... you seen the little Blossom yet?" Tyler laughed. Fuck sake. Blossom was a girl from the Blood Moon pack, her father was their former Alpha and her brother had taken over 4 years ago when he was 21. She was small, and sweet. Her hair was always tied up in a ribbon and she was always reading... or doing work. She never really spoke to anyone. I'd only ever seen her with two people. And I had to admit, I'd had a crush on her as soon as I'd laid eyes on her. But I always felt guilty in the back of my head.

The fragrance filled the room, creating an atmosphere of calm and serenity. Next, I lit the candles. I had chosen a variety of sizes and shapes, all in soft, muted colors that complemented the lavender of my nightgown. Their flickering flames cast a gentle, golden glow throughout the bathroom, their light dancing on the walls and ceiling. The candles added a touch of magic to the room, transforming it into a sanctuary where I could escape from the world and its troubles.