Novel & Cerita Grace Violet Blood

I hugged her really tightly to deepen the kiss. "Okay.. it's time to cut the cake." Blake ruined the moment again. I swear he always does that. "Let's cut the cake." "I'm so happy for you, Violet Ashloc-" I glared at Rose and she laughed. "Oops.. I forgot that she's married to a baboon like you." Rose smirked and I hissed at her. "Thankyou Rose." Violet hugged Rose. "Violet Portwalt now." I whispered to her ear and kissed her cheek.

"We don't deserve to die here, like this." "What are you talking about Mary? Angela? You're Violetta, right? Is this about the pregnancy rumors?" A petite lady who looked all but above one and twenty spoke as she struggled to cut her roasted lamb into pieces. "I, for one do not believe her. Grace is cunny, a bitchy one at that. I think she's just trying to look for Alpha's favor, like she always has." Our table was silent for a moment before I broke the ice. " Yes, I am Violetta. And you are?"

He stood still beside Mira; hope was written in their eyes as he held her daughter’s hand. And then Violet cut her palm and poured her blood once again over the queen’s mouth. The mages chanted along with her. As her blood continued to spill, the flowers around us had turned red. Their heavenly scent had become stronger. Even the flower crown on the queen’s head had turned red including her lips. They were no longer pale anymore.

My heart was so calm as she whispered words of encouragement to me. ***** I woke up in a dark room that looked familiar in my memory. My eyes blinked, adjusting to the minimal light entering my retinas. My gaze swept across the silent room, but the atmosphere was calming. My gaze stopped at the painting of my face mounted on the red brick wall. It was a sign that I was currently in the vampire dimension. “Hello, Grace. We meet again.” Violet, in her stunning black dress, walks gracefully toward me. Her red lipstick-polished lips are smirking. “Before you ask further, it was Maria who brought you here.”

Someone was standing there, backlit by those stupid neon lights Marcus had put up outside. Violet. She walked in with her shoulders back and her chin up, that bright blue hair of hers impossible to miss. She was carrying something, a vial that glowed with this weird light, the liquid inside it moving like it was alive. "Wait," she said again, louder this time. "I have proof.”

She grabbed a change of clothes and went to take a much needed, hot shower. Violet felt much better after. Not only did water soothe her anger, but her wrist was feeling much better. The bruise was still a very noticeable black/purple color. Deciding to use a bit more than a concealer, she pulled out the suitcase with her makeup, glad whoever packed the thing had thought to include it.

I washed the rogue's blood off my hands in the hallway sink, stripped off my ruined shirt, and threw on a clean black sweater from the locker room before entering Violet's private room. The room was completely quiet, save for the steady, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. Violet was still completely unconscious, her face pale against the white pillows. Dr. Evans had wrapped her shattered ankle in a thick plaster cast, and her right hand was completely covered in white bandages, hiding the severe silver burns.

I grab my pillow and sob quietly into it, pretending it was my brother. A knock makes me gasp for air but I don't move from my spot, hugging the pillow tighter as my tears refuse to stop. If Hestia was back with the cookies, I'd gladly take some. Another knock on the door makes me look up at it at the same time it opens, Anthony's face peeking around it. His expression turns alarmed as he processes my fetal position and tear soaked pillow. "Violet," He says, a sense of urgency in his voice as he closes the door behind him, "What's going on? Why are you crying?"

And with both hands, she lit the flame anew. The ring of Nightglass was placed at its heart. The moment the black stone touched fire, It roared. Not with rage. But with recognition. The flames twisted. Violet, first. The color of Lucien’s quiet grief. Then silver, like moonlight in his eyes the day he first spoke Elara’s name. Then deep red, his true color. The color of his choice. His sacrifice. And then, The flame pulsed. Once. Like a heartbeat remembered after death.

Like she had been struck by a lighting. "What the hell?!" Mason shouted, lunging forward. Valenwood's eyes widened in horror. "This isn't right." The antidote should have worked. I grabbed Violet's shoulders, trying to steady her, but her body wouldn't stop shaking. Just when I thought that was the end. Her veins, the vein inside her skin changes from green to black... Spreading like Inky tendrils. What the hell is happening? What's going on? I was thinking she should have been recovering, and showing signs of healing.... But...