Cordelia Roses Novels & Stories

It was better than telling her I was the woman her evil daughter wanted dead. “Just a woman running from wolves. And this is my daughter, Roses.” The Queen’s eyes lingered on Roses, then flicked back to me. Her pupils narrowed, her chest rose with a breath too deep for calm. She reached out as if to touch Roses, then pulled back her hand at the last moment. “The goddess,” she whispered, barely audible. “She returns what was stolen.” Her words sent a shiver down my spine. My knees nearly buckled. “What are you talking about?” I demanded, clutching Roses tighter.

But I still styled myself as a widow and presided over this simple ceremony. In a filthy, chaotic back alley, he had shielded me as we narrowly escaped death, telling me not to be afraid. On the day he first came into possession of his own turf, he had held me and spun wildly around a dilapidated dance floor, paying no attention to the music. On our wedding day, he had guided my hand as it traced the tattoo on his chest. It was my name. I raised my hand and touched the cold tombstone. John walked up to me with a box that contained a withered rose.

The note read: Violet, My beautiful love I have had a special team working on this hybrid rose for you. Ever since I saw the blue flame I knew I could find a way to show you my love for you. And to remind you that with both flames working together you can do amazing things to help others. I love you. Love Jaylor. P.S. Move the paper to reveal the other present. As soon as I removed the tissue paper I saw a note on top of a dress. The note said Happy birthday on it. As soon as I read the note I thought could it really be that time already? Is is really my sixteenth birthday today? I look down lost in my own thoughts and they immediately come to a halt as I let out a gasp when I see the dress

Dangerous. She had thick curly hair, but since she chose to straighten it, it reached just below the middle of her back. She had a slim neck that would brand a mating bite perfectly. Her ebony skin looking sun-kissed, like she was gold crafted straight out of the sun. Whenever she walked a scent of roses and vanilla would follow. The only thing that almost sets her aside from the rest of us is a mole that's placed just below her right eye, and yet it adds more to her charm and allure. And what I hate the most is she's not even worth hating. Eleanor's the kindest of all of us. She's kind even to me. I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep myself from throwing up. I want to go home.

Daisy leaned back against the sofa and closed her eyes for a moment. Caleb walked over, sat beside her, and took her hand in his. Three days later, the garden at Anderson Manor was filled with rows of white chairs. Daisy had on a white wedding gown. Her hair was pinned up elegantly, and there was a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Mia stood beside her with tears glistening in her eyes. As the organ music began to play, Daisy held onto Caleb's arm and slowly walked across the white flower petals one step at a time.

Her lips were redder than her dress and although she appeared beautiful, her eyes were grave with annoyance as she stared at Damian. Damian didn’t have to look back to know it was Cordelia, one of the renown witch in the coven but she never sit right with him. Plainly, Damian disliked her presence, “Please tell her I need to talk with her, Yulene. I won’t pressure any more matter about Rachel’s death. I won’t. This is for Belle.” “What?” Cordelia chuckled beside him, “Has that daughter of the calamity killed someone?” People gasped hearing Cordelia’s words. Silence ensued for a while where Damian slowly turned his face behind, finally looking at Cordelia’s eyes. A hint of red color glistened