Crimson Lace Novels & Stories

He states as he leaves the table. “I’m sorry.” I whisper towards no one in particular. A gentle pat on my knee alerts me to Luna Charlotte’s desire to comfort. “Do you have any memories of her?” She asks as she serves her plate. I shake my head. “I have no memories of physically being with her while I was at Crimson Dawn but she’s been persistent with connecting with me through the channel.” “The channel?” Cassius questions. “Is that the same as the link?” “My understanding is that it’s similar but uses a different plane than the astral plane our wolves live on. It has a farther reach. We set it up so every night instead of her calling we used the channel. She’s told me a lot about herself,

Shadows and spears of sunlight danced off of the angles in her face, toying with B’s mind. She was beautiful, yes, but seemingly ageless. Her billowy dress was cut low and stitched from layers of lace, velvet, and tapestry. B wanted to reach out and feel the luxurious texture between his fingers. It had been months since he felt anything other than the truck’s pocked steering wheel and his cleaning supplies. A crescent moon necklace hung around her neck on a long gold chain. The moon drifted hypnotically between the soft edges of her cleavage. “WY isn’t here, of course, but you know that. He’s in Dubai this month,” she said as she led him toward the back patio door.

That was excluding the Sapphire Moon pack. Everything was going smoothly. Nonetheless, I didn't get wary of our enemies who were living just next to us. Careful that they might attack us at any time, Gavin and I strengthened the security at the borders, especially on our big night. Two weeks flew by and before we knew it, it was the night for us to be officiated as the next alpha and Luna of Crimson Crescent. My gown was a sleeveless white and baby blue mermaid dress that hugged my figure perfectly. It stood out in the crowd because of its shimmering fabric as I walked towards the stage with my mate beside me. The guards escorted us down the aisle. It was a bittersweet moment for me. I could

“Move, Verena. Attend to your wound.” “But Lorcan…” I slouch to him. “You-” “Please, my love.” He closes his eyes tightly, gasping like a fish out of water. “Please attend to your wound. Please move to your room.” “But what’s happening to you?” Now I feel bad for pulling this entire stunt. He is trembling like a newborn fawn. “You do not seem alright. We should go to the hospital-” Before I can complete my sentence, the scene that unfolds in front of me leaves me breathless. He opens his eyes. His usual iris is now blood red. His chest heaves in short breaths. The look in his eyes is completely replaced by that of a bloodthirsty predator.

The woman on the balcony stepped fully into the light. She was… wrong. Not in the grotesque way Puffer Vest had been. In the opposite way—too right, like someone had taken every “dangerous beauty” cliché and dialed it until it snapped. Her dress clung to her like liquid **crimson**, the fabric catching the torchlight and swallowing it. It hugged her curves, bared her pale shoulders, and spilled down in a dramatic sweep that made her look like a spill of blood poured down the stairs.

She lifted the heavy lid of the box. Folded delicately inside layers of black tissue paper was a breathtaking, floor-length, backless gown made of heavy liquid-silk in a deep, rich shade of crimson red. Resting exactly on top of the dress was a thick, cream-colored cardstock note with one word written in sharp, bold black ink. Terrace.

Well let's just see. Bianca was wearing a dark green cowl neck dress that had a slit on the left side and her blonde hair is flat-ironed. Luna is wearing a pastel blue deep V-neck dress that accentuated her curves well. Finally Freya is Freya tonight. She's wearing a yellow sweetheart neckline dress and her hair is out in her natural curls and damn she looks sexy in that dress. And I can say yellow is her color. Damn she looks good in all colors. I'm wearing an off-shoulder burgundy dress with a deep long slit on one side and paired it off with black heels and decided on letting my hair out. It's how he likes it to be.

Camela’s dress, still adorned with silk threads, began to absorb her blood, turning the white lace into a red hue that faintly glowed. She stood frozen in terror as she felt a wave of fear wash over her, realizing that the threads weren't merely pieces of fabric; they were alive. They tightened around her chest and crept up toward her throat. “No…no, not again…” she murmured. Her father’s voice drifted through the air. “Daughter, don’t fight it. Lace is a memory. Lace is a gift. With enough blood, it will keep you strong.” The lace pulsed in response. For a brief moment, the bindings around her wrists loosened slightly while the flowers hissed in disapproval.

"Too modest. It hides the shape of your legs. Next." The second was a backless crimson lace. It was stunning, vibrant, and made me look like a queen. But when I turned around, I saw Adrian’s jaw tighten. He rose from the chair and walked toward me, his hand reaching out to hook into the lace of the neckline. He pulled it just enough to see the fading mark on my collarbone. "The color is right," he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "But it's too busy. The lace distracts from what’s underneath. I want something that looks like it's barely there. Something that reminds me of the desk."

Icran bent down, picked up the gown and stretched it out for Rhae to look at. The gown had a lace bodice that stretched over the shoulders and curled down into long, tight sleeves. The gown stretched out in multiple layers from the waist down, spanning from a deep red colour to a washed-out white at the bottom. It was a soft and silky fabric, seemingly like waterfalls cascading down from the waist. The lace was a deep red, inlaid with golden jewels. “It’s revolting.” Rhae growled, attempting to hide her awe at the beauty of the dress. Rhae would never wear something that restricting. No escape would be made in a gown like this.