Dahlia In Bloom Characters Novels & Stories

“I’m Dahlia. I’m from the Cold Star pack. I was captured and held hostage by Red Ripper, but they had no use for me. I was too small and too weak for them to ever take much notice of me, so I was left in the cells to die. I was to be used in their witch’s experiments, but…” Her bottom lip wobbled, and her voice quavered, but she held firm, broadening her shoulders and hitching her chin out defiantly. Pale ginger curls clung to her brow with sweat. “There were rumours in the cells, rumours that the witch had escaped. They were struggling with their magic, unable to control it without her. Day became night, and the flowers and plants were all dying. I saw that for myself, when I ran.” Someone’

Dahlia played a C.D. on their player while Emery was in the comfort room. They were going to watch their favorite Korean drama when she suddenly looked at the picture frame next to their T.V. She saw three children hugging each other and smiling extra-wide. That was her, Travis, and Emery, she smiled when she remembered how Emery and her met. Flashback Dahlia A fancy party will be held tonight at Monte Cristo’s mansion. Dahlia don't know what that was for but all she knows is that her Mom was busy cooking and cleaning. Dahlia's mom was the trusted butler in the mansion.

“I fell sick and was unable to attend.” “Well, now you can pay your respect.” Gavin silently agreed. His eyes settled on the stone again, his view on it now different now that he knows its purpose. His eyes fall on the flowers surrounding it. The flowers are admittedly beautiful, but why? “Aster,” the alpha suddenly spoke again. “Sorry?” Gavin asked, confused. “That’s the name of the purple flower,” the alpha supplied. “You wanted to know why it’s chosen?” did Gavin say that out loud?

I felt so small and tired. After a while, the door opened again. There were heavier footsteps this time. Dahlia came down, her grey eyes were sharp. She had a small bag in one hand. Two of her guys followed but stayed by the stairs. "Still awake. Good," she said, setting the bag on the table. She pulled out some herbs that smelled bitter and started laying them around the edge of the symbols. I watched her, my heart beating faster. "Dahlia, you don't have to do this. I'm not your enemy. I don't even know your pack."

I baked you some cookies to show that I am really sorry and also Merry Christmas! I made you a cheap present. I made it so it's priceless. Hope you like it. Remember my name is Dahlia, the beautiful flower that means Dignity and Elegance. I saw Lucas staring at me, awed as for the first time, I smiled, a genuine smile after reading the note with a flower scribbled at the end of the note that maybe was a dahlia by the shape of it. That girl was definitely not elegant but her name was as beautiful as her.

Dahlia said so softly that at first I thought that I had misheard her. Her words caught me off guard and I was utterly surprised until I saw her sit down on her heels and reach out her fingers to touch the flowers that had fallen down to the ground. That was when I realized that her words were not directed at me, but she was actually talking to the dahlia flowers that she had dropped. “The flowers are not to blame,” she repeated before her eyes glanced up to look at my face. I wasn't sure what brought about her sudden change in reaction, but I was certain that I would have preferred for her to be angry at me than for her to have such a sorrowful look on her face.

Lying through my teeth comes so easy. Dahlia's eyes glow a faint pink and she looks at the men. Knowing that she only sees me, the delighted look on her face amuses me. "My love!" She walks forward and hugs Trent. "Please help me... I feel so itchy..." she bats her eyes making Trent smirk.

I took the flowers, thanked her because my mother raised me properly, and walked out before she could try again. By the time I got back to the apartment, evening had begun to settle against the city windows. The lights below were coming alive one by one, gold and white and restless. I opened the door quietly. Dahlia was curled on the couch beneath a blanket, bare legs tucked under her, attention fixed on the television. Some crime documentary played in a low dramatic voice about missing husbands and suspicious wives. She was holding a spoon inside a pint of ice cream she had clearly forgotten to eat.

Bent, not broken. Like Dahlia. I took one last drag and exhaled slowly. The smoke drifted across the bed, curling through the air before settling on Dahila’s face. She coughed and turned away, eyes closed, saying nothing. Scarlett would, too—eventually. That was the version of her I wanted. The one who listened. The one who obeyed. The one who knew her place.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to officially seal this union with the exchange of rings.” Seal this union. God. Could they make it sound any more like a hostage negotiation? Dahlia turned to me with this soft, glowing smile like she’d been rehearsing it since birth. Her hand was delicate, nails perfectly painted, a princess straight out of a lifestyle magazine. And then… The perfume hit me. It wasn’t a bad scent expensive, floral, a little powdery. But it slammed into me like a brick wall. Sweet, suffocating, heady.