Novel & Cerita Burnt Roses

And the blush that was barely receding was back again. "I'm not a pretty little flower, Roses are as pretty as they are dangerous." He scoffed, standing up and even from where he was standing, I could see that he'll tower over me. He straightened out his suit jacket. Eyes boring into mine. "The only dangerous roses are those with thorns Rose, and you my dear, you have no thorns. You're a pretty little flower, a harmless little flower." He walked towards me till he was standing right Infront of me, towering over me as expected, I craned my neck just too look at him. "I'll be taking my leave now pretty flower, say hi to Mr. Potter for me."

The script was elegant, the words chilling, and the signature—just a single letter—struck her harder than a physical blow. Who could it be? The guard cleared his throat again, unsure whether to say anything more. “Do you want us to—” “Burn it,” Ivy whispered, cutting him off. Her voice cracked under the weight of the command, but she didn’t care. “Burn the rose as well.” ***

Then the most shocking thing happened. The roses suddenly burst into purple flames I threw them on the ground and stepped on them until I got rid of the flames, but the shock was still there. What the hell happened? I made it? Rhea? I looked for my wolf, but she knew as much as I did. I looked at the now burned bush of what had once been a beautiful bouquet, still wondering how this had happened. I thought about burning them, and suddenly they caught fire on their own Did it happen because of me?

“While you were away. Lord Rustyn. He brought something from Lady Celia and the queen.” My jaw tightens. But my eyes are on the roses. Even in winter, the cursed things bloom. Blue roses that climb the black stone walls, their petals sharp against the frost. They wither and bloom in ghostly cycles, yet never touch the ground. Always vanishing midair, leaving behind only that sweet and rotten scent. It clings to your throat, making you feel the misery etched deep within it. “Rogues?” I ask, eyes narrowing on a cluster of petals curling into vapor.

I take a deep breath as I quicken my pace. 'I can do this' I mutter, the words repeating themselves in my head like a mantra. To my surprise, no one's at the East wing of the castle either and believe me, I find it really odd. Soon, I arrive in front of an open double door with lilac curtains that are pulled apart at the entrance to reveal what looks like a lavishly furnished royal chamber. Framed photos of the queen herself, decorates the walls of the room. As soon as I step into the room, I instantly smell smoke and cedar. Then, I see it. Standing almost ten feet in height is a tree bearing rose flowers that are a mix of red and grey. This must be the flame rose. I move towards it and pluc

Burning through the dark. Ancient. Patient. Knowing. A voice followed. Smooth. Calm. Terrible. *You learn quickly.* Rose didn’t flinch. Didn’t step back. Didn’t break the connection. “You sent them.” A pause. Then— *Yes.* The figure shifted slightly in the darkness. Not fully visible. Never fully visible. *And now… you come to me.* Rose’s fire flickered around her. Controlled. Steady. “I’m not here to be taken.”

Marco drove into the gates of La Rosa Nera. The club's neon lights cast an eerie shadow over everything they touched. The club's pathway was a spectacle to behold. An archway adorned with beautiful black roses that resonated with the name of the club, La Rosa Nera (The Black Rose). The petals of these gorgeous flowers glittered and danced under the night sky. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and a fading sensation of danger that lingered.

He shifted his eyes down towards those broken pieces of mirror on the floor, which was still showing his reflection and this wiped off that smirk from his face completely. “He deserved to die…..” breathing out those words at his own reflection, he snapped his gaze forward where it landed on that bouquet of fresh white roses, which were placed on the table in front of him. Stretching his hand forward, he grasped that bouquet. He was gently tracing his fingers on that bouquet when suddenly he felt a thorn pricking his index finger and made him bleed, but the second his drop of blood touched the petal, the entire bouquet of roses burnt up.

Theodore looked at her with eyes filled with pain. Rose’s eyes softened when she looked at Theodore and spoke, “My brother, your father tried to burn him first. He was the one who shot two bullets at him with wolfsbane which is poison for him. I saw it with my own two eyes. He attacked him with every piece of equipment possible and nearly killed him. It wasn’t Elijah who burned him, they were throwing fire at him but he dodged and this resulted in the mess!” Rose explained to Theodore in frustration and anger. She didn’t want to hurt him.

Chapter 27 Antonio’s POV The smell of rotting roses still clung to the vents of the Rossi Manor, a cloying, sweet stench of decay that no amount of expensive aerosol could mask. It sat in the back of my throat, reminding me of things that should stay buried. I sat in my study, the mahogany desk gleaming under the lamplight. On the floor sat the charred remains of the white wooden box. I had watched it burn in the fireplace, but the image of those shriveled, brown petals was burned into my retinas.