His Robe For Mine Novels & Stories

I go down the stairs in a different dress, it's a baby pink silk dress, it is simple, elegant and surely not at all anything that would catch too much attention. “What are you wearing?” I hear Ryan's voice ask from his position down the stairs. “A dress.” I fake pretend like I have no idea what in particular his talking about. “Go change.” Ryan orders, I see he’s wearing a matching neck tie color to the dress he picked out and I restrain from openly rolling my eyes at him. Such a pathetic man. “No.” I simply tell him walking past him and he grabs my arm violently.

Something that wasn't plastered to her skin like a second layer. In the wardrobe, a different section from the rest of his clothes his robes were hung and he picked one—oversized, soft. He pulled it out, the fabric heavy in his hands, and returned to the bed with the resigned determination of a man walking toward his own execution. "Right," he said to the ceiling, to God, to anyone who might be listening. "I can do this. I can absolutely do this." He sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle her too much. The robe lay across his lap like a shield. Or maybe a white flag.

I was working on his thick outer robe, when the door opened and he entered, accompanied by Fabian and the other two Sentinels, both of whom now looked fully recovered. Their eyes flicked to me with polite deference before they bowed and moved past, disappearing into the back room. Our eyes met. My stomach tightened. I swallowed, dropping my eyes to the robe in my lap. “Is that my robe?” My gaze snapped back to him. Heat crept to my neck. “Yes… um… just a little stitching.” His brows drew together. “But why would you do that?” “I figured you would wear it when we leave here,” I said quietly, lifting the garment slightly to show the neat rows of thread closing the worst of the tears. “This sto

I looked at my old friend and gave him a coy smile. “That’s the spirit,” He smiled back at me reading my expression wrongly. Gregorio gave me a knowing look, unsure of which way this event was going to go. Rostam come hurrying back in, the royal red ceremony robe in hand accompanied by a member of the court who held the golden crown with all its sparkly jewels on a cushion of red velvet. It was all too fancy for someone who had lived their life as a minimalist for the past 13-plus years. “Brother, will you stand by my side?” I asked Rostam as they placed the heavy and long robe over my shoulders.

With ears throbbing like the red siren of a fire engine, I glared back at the Tribal Queen and asked her, "Why would anyone make robes meant for the royalty like Kim Kardashian's dress ?!" "Like father, like son,” she rolled her eyes before grabbing back the robe from my hands. "I am starting to think that you picked up the old man's foolishness rather than going after me .... ,” she huffed and kept her ranting monologue on about me and her husband with “colourful” words, while she draped the thin robe around my body with remarkable skill. Once I saw myself in the mirror, I could not help myself from admiring my own damn body !

That he'd actually have a normal job? I yawned and stretched my body. I slowly removed the ribbon of the robe I was temporarily wearing, and there my all-black nightgown was revealed. After breathing, I also put the black robe back on and tied the ribbon again. It's ugly if I wear other colors because it won't match the motif of the entire mansion anymore.

“I never gave you permission to wear my things.” Actually, I had purchased two of those robes in matching colours for me and Nathan’s second year anniversary. The image of it on Claire’s flawless body is like a knife plunged through my chest. “Oh, I’m sorry. I never thought you’d bother over something as insignificant as a cheap robe.” She doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic. I try to speak but something interesting catches my eyes and I pause. There’s an… object in the corner, draped in a decorative red ribbon.

The plate part of the bracelet is made from a jade stone, rare for a place like Ny’Thal but also a color that Robin loves. Robin does not take it off but instead places his hand down so that the item is not in his field of vision. Instead, he tugs on the wool blanket provided for him and turns around so that he faces a wall instead of the bunk bed ceiling. However, from the corner of his eye, a bright light braces from a cracked open door. The obstruction is enough to make his mind timid from the recent events. Even so, he manages to shift his body to the side of his bumped bed. Those small feet of his slap down on the stony floor but the coldness from the contraction of the outside elements

The robe would have been perfect—understated yet exquisite, exactly the sort of thing Alexander would appreciate. "Surely you could make an exception for the Beta's daughter?" Mother pressed. "I sincerely apologize," the manager replied firmly. "The client specifically requested it be held until collection." After trying several more options, I settled on a dazzling white ceremonial robe with protective runes. It wasn't subtle, but it would certainly draw attention. "White is traditionally worn by newly marked mates," the manager cautioned gently. "Perfect," I smiled, examining my reflection. "Let them think what they will."