Cress Novels & Stories

she murmured, just barely loud enough for me to hear even with my sharp senses. “What?” I frowned. “White Cress,” she repeated. “It only grows on House Crawford’s marshlands. It’s rare. The poison it makes is called Bhodin.” I raised an eyebrow.“How do you know this?” “I read about it from a book on Father’s bookshelf,” Leila replied, raising her hand as if to preempt my usual lecture. “Don’t start lecturing me, brother. I know I’m not supposed to sneak into Father’s study, but I’m helping you now.”

he answered honestly. Luis stroked his son's hair because was pleased to hear his answer. "And the name of this flower is Calendula when you grow up maybe you can find out for yourself all things related to the flower," he continued reassuring his son. Troye nodded again. "Then what is the purpose of you bringing me here? Does it have something to do with the Calendula flower?" he replied curiously, because still curious about his father's statement.

Lorenzo POV I was going to take her back to the camp but changed my mind at the last minute to take her for a ride. We both needed the open space to clear our thoughts, the ride was very quiet, and the times I stole glances at Nadia, she looked so lost in thought. After driving for about forty-five minutes I pulled into my property, it is two thousand acres of farmland the major crop grown on the farm is grapes and apples, which when harvested, can be used for juice and wine.

ROSALINE I was in the living room reading a novel when I heard the front door open and I saw Vincenzo walk in with Bianca behind him. "Hi," I waved at Vincenzo. He gave me a warm smile, "It's good to see you're in good condition, Rose." "Thank you," I smiled and yelped in surprise when Bianca engulfed me in a bone crushing hug. "Please endure her, she has had a lot of sugar today. I'll see you ladies later," he chuckled and walked into the hallway.

Rosette: Fine Rosette: Alexander No reply, I waited for what seemed like minutes but was actually just seconds. And when his reply finally came, I was hot and cold on a instant. Alexander: Good girl. Now go to sleep, it's late. We'll talk in the morning. It took me an embarrassingly long time to get my temperature under control and type a reply. Rosette: Goodnight Alexander, we'll talk in the morning. Alexander: Goodnight Flower. Maybe I'd take a while of reading and rereading and maybe screaming in my pillow before I finally go asleep, because that was very necessary.

The land where werewolves go when they have passed away. That was what Rosalina said that blue field was. A place of eternal peace, comfort and calmness, also known to be mysterious and unattainable. It was a place one could get endless amount of power from, only if the moon goddess was ok with the person drawing power from the field. Rosalina said the field had a bit of moon dust sprinkled on the roses. Blue moon magic. The roses got immense healing powers like no other. Rosalina said in her lycan book that she actually got the opportunity to go to the field after she accepted her werewolf. She said she saw her mother there and generations of werewolves from her family. She said werewolves

EVE I took a deep breath, brushing off the non-existent lint off the long velvet sleeves of my dress, and straightened my shoulders. Grabbing the handle of the door, I pulled it open and walked inside, the smell of coq au vin and calvados hitting my nose and making the hunger that sat in my stomach ten times worse. I then noticed how different the place had looked since the last time I came here, although that had been in the daytime. Beingeam dark out already, the place went from a brunch-time bistro to a candlelit rendezvous for honeymooners.

I’d collected here almost every week back then, learning which plants grew in which conditions, which ones appeared after the rain, which ones needed the shade the most and which ones grew from the detritus of the ones who didn’t get enough of the shade. It all looked the same. Time had barely touched it. I stopped where the ground dipped slightly toward a shallow run of water, barely more than a trickle between mossy rocks, and crouched down. Watercress grew in dense clusters along the edge, and behind it, tucked into the damp shadow of the bank, was a low-spreading plant I’d been wanting to get my hands on since the perfume idea first formed: small, pale-ste

I said. Chrissie was on top of me in an instant, her hands around my throat and my eyes widened as I struggled to breathe. “Don’t piss me off.” I coughed as she let go of me and air hit my lungs. “Fine. Just one more, the last one!” Chrissie smiled victoriously and went back to lounging on my bed. “You missed one in Seward,” she said and twirled a piece of her hair around her finger. The action made her seem almost alive.

Especially not Crownless ones. The herb I seek, is called Mireblossom and it grows in the heart of a swamp carved into the spine of the mountain range. It blooms only during magical storms, feeding off raw energy. And right now, the storm is more than weather. It feels alive, more magical, even.