Flowers Forsaken Novels & Stories

The way her skirt swished around her pale ankles, the way her eyes casted around the darkest of rich-colored flowers, the way her soft, beautiful smile only seemed to grow and grow and grow. His dark black –almost charcoal colored eyes– the shade of darkness and the shade of impending doom, darkened even further as he saw her nearing the specific flower. The flower he had placed there for her, especially for her, grown for her within the rich soil there. The flower he knew she'd stop near and pick up from the earthy soil.

My grandmother passed before I was born due to grief, but I've been told she was a very remarkable lady. A door closing makes me jump, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turn off the shower and grab the towel, drying off as I step out. I grab the clothes he gave me, enjoying these ones a lot more already. I throw them on, enjoying the clean casual clothes. I look in the mirror, seeing the red dye from my hair fading away to leave my bright white hair showing. I grab my hair and tie it up in a bun, trying to hide the white showing through. My fathers words echoing in my head yet again, and yet I had let Talon see my wolf. "He is our mate. You will not keep me from him." Freya snarls. "The moon

The attire covers almost my entire body. I took a deep breath, then unbuttoned the front of my shirt. One by one they were all open, then I took them all off until they fell to the floor. There, I was surprised by something I didn't expect. My breathing became heavier as I groped my right chest. “How come there's… nothing? There's nothing. I don't have the mark...?" **This is the end of Season 1 of The Forsaken Luna's Burning Love. Thank you for riding this story together. Hope you all enjoy it to the fullest. Look forward to the continuation of their story in the next season.**

Unknown POV Far away, beyond the rift that Selaine once crossed, a child stood in a garden of black roses. He held no thread. No bloodline. No past. But when he breathed, the air trembled. And the roses began to burn.

The scent of roses clung to the air, thick and sweet, but there was nothing gentle in the garden where Serenya had been cast. The blossoms were not flowers at all—at least not natural ones. Their crimson petals shone faintly under moonlight, shimmering with a sheen like wet blood. Their thorns were long, curved like hooks, and when she reached too close to push aside a vine, it snapped forward, drawing a line of red across her wrist.

They want to dismantle the hierarchy of the entire wolf kind. "Who’s your contact?" I demand, stepping back. "How are you moving across borders unseen? Who’s feeding you intel?" He grins up at me, his teeth stained red. "The Rose." My heart hammers against my ribs. "What did you say?" "The Rose," he whispers, a look of reverence crossing his twisted face. "She blooms in the dark. She carries the scent of the garden and the poison of the grave. She opened the door for us." Wild roses.

I was reminded of that twisted prophesy the eye of Casandra gave. "A blooming rose attracts two maidens. The scent of it shall cause the cherry blossoms to flourish and the Belladonna to wither. Love will find one and break the other. You, Alexios Rose, shall be the architect of all their undoing." Fiona was flourishing in the sense that she had accepted the darkness of her family legacy. Her love for me was breaking her and in a sense, I was the architect of all this chaos. I shut my eyes and whispered. "I Alexios Rose, renounce my rejection."

Too much pressure to be someone I wasn’t. So I slipped out. Liora had already wandered off with a charming brute of a warrior from the Bluefangs—good for her. Aunt Ysara was busy fake-laughing with a high-ranking Elder’s mate. Nobody noticed when I slipped into the woods, heels in hand, flask in my grip, the cold earth soothing under my bare feet. ~~

"Emily - I know you think I am the villain in this story. Give me a chance to prove you wrong. - V" Sarah read the card over my shoulder. "Who is V?" "The woman who is causing all the problems." "She sent you flowers?" "She is trying to get inside my head." "Is it working?" I looked at the pristine white roses, so perfect they looked artificial. Everything about them felt calculated, designed to create maximum psychological impact. "No," I said, throwing the flowers in the trash. "It is not working." The afternoon brought a steady stream of customers, which helped distract me from thoughts of Vanessa and her manipulative gestures. An elderly man bought a small landscape painting for his wife

“Princess Seraphina, please. Yell at me if you want, but please do not be quiet about it. What I did is unforgivable, and I deserve—" “Nothing, Nicola. You deserve nothing. Not even my anger.” I let out, breathing steadily while holding his gaze. Rexton seemed to be lost in some kind of trance, but I didn’t care. I simply said to Nicola, “You have done what you did. Nothing can change that, not even my forgiveness. Thank you for creating the pills for Celeste and for teaching me these past few weeks.” “There’s no need to thank me. It was a pleasure, and I will create the potion to seal away her werewolf gene as soon as we defeat the rebels—"