Bride And Blossom Novels & Stories

Blossom took a step back, shocked at my words, I smirked and stepped towards her, I bent slightly and placed my lips beside her ear, "I know." She stiffened immediately, I stood straight, feeling a wave of satisfaction flow through me. Her eyes widened and she gasped. "I…I… This is so unfair. I was supposed to win, I needed to win. Becca is supposed to be with me, I need her." Blossom was spiraling and she was starting to talk out of sense. She had finally reached her breaking point, her husband tried to stop her but it was too late.

He was beside her in an instant. “Did I hurt you, Lia? Are you injured?” “Nay, husband.” She peeked out at him from the edge of the counterpane, “I used a trick my mother told me before she died.” “What trick is that?” “She told me that English men like a woman to bleed on the wedding night, but many lasses don’t, even if they have not been with a man. She told me that lasses put a leach in their channel for a bit a day or two before the wedding to make a weak spot so coupling will shed some blood. I had thought that all the emissary would need was a bloody sheet and mother's trick would provide that for us.”

’, I thought. . “In the same way, you are Master Cade’s bride.”, There are no mirrors in front of me but I knew the size of the eyes had grown in the shape of a melon. “But in werewolves, mates are paired by the Moon Goddess and here, Bride is chosen by the ruling King.” . Oh! . “King Black chose you as Master Cade’s bride assuming that you will also be strong and powerful just like your parents but it turned out that you are nowhere to them in terms of powers that’s why he wanted to get rid of you.”

Chapter Two: SIGHTING Later that night, Rojean dolled up to go to a place that was both a nightclub and a bar that everyone was talking about. She was old enough, for sure, especially if she was going to get married soon. But she was never the kind of person to go out on the weekends, to a club or even a bar and always preferred the comfort of their apartment which Lucas didn’t mind at all even when he wanted to go out. She was in a cream coloured off shoulder dress which stopped mid-thigh and hugged her curves beautifully.

“My soul has had its absolute fill of the bitter, bloody taste of marriage. There will be no second helpings of male meat for my body, thank you very much. Besides, my hands have my three beautiful pups. Their little bodies will be my sweet company when my fur turns gray and old.” Blossom winks, a mischievous, naughty grin spreading across her face as her fingers slide over to squeeze my thigh. “Well then, what is your property is my property, right? From this night on, those three gorgeous pups belong to my heart too. If my body ends up a lonely spinster wolf, you can bet your silver I will be clinging tight to your bed furs and your three little munchkins.” “Ha, you are on, Blossom. By the

It must have looked intimate, husband and wife sharing private words, but his whisper was a blade. "You're nothing but trash, Serah, because this union is politics, so don't confuse it for love." The court erupted in quiet laughter. Some didn't even bother to hide it meanwhile Lydia covered her mouth, feigning shock, though amusement danced in her eyes. My fingers curled around my gown, nails digging through silk I wanted to disappear, but I forced myself to stand taller because if I crumbled now, they would all see it. "Smile, dear," Lydia called sweetly from her seat. "A bride should look happy."

Please let the answer be no. The cathedral doors opened behind us. The room shifted. Everyone turned. My sister appeared at the end of the aisle on my father’s arm, radiant in ivory silk and cathedral-length lace. Celeste Hartwell had been preparing for this wedding since she was seventeen. She looked luminous. She looked happy. She looked like someone about to receive everything she'd ever wanted. The organ swelled as she began walking down the aisle. Adrian Swift turned toward her. He smiled. He watched her approach.

Colors pulsed alive in the dim light: cobalt colliding with crimson, veins of gold splitting the dark. Then I saw it. One stroke. Angled. Deliberate. A fracture cut through chaos. My breath stuttered. Memory surged. A brush dragged across canvas. Laughter spilling warm against my shoulder. Her voice: Not like that. Let me fix it. See? Every break can shine if you know how to cut the light. My chest constricted. It was her. My hands clenched the frame until the wood groaned. This was Asaraiah—my bride, living, breathing, fierce. But through that stroke I saw her. The one buried by time. The ghost I’d failed.

A far cry from the Layla who once flinched at every reflection. The folded note still sat at the edge of my vanity. The one he’d sent last week with that pressed flower. I unfolded it, letting the words sink in again. “You remind me of things that grow in unlikely places—resilient, breathtaking, persistent in their blooming. If I’ve done nothing else right, I hope I’ve helped you remember that you are a force of nature, Layla Brooks.” I read it twice. Then again. And for the first time, I didn’t just wonder who he was.