Immortal Wine Novels & Stories

"Whatever, set it down. Let's eat." "Wait, you're not impressed," he frowned, taking in my bored expression. "Do you know what kind of wine this is?" I gave him a blank look. "Tell me what kind." "This is Cruz wine Scarlett. Vintage classic red wine," he held the bottle out in front of him, dangling it as if that was going to make me know the value. "Okay, it's vintage wine great," I shrugged. "Let's have our food now." Luca gave up and then came to take his seat, but then the moment he took his fork, he said, "do you realize that I'm opening up my most special and treasured wine because of you and you're so nonchalant?"

Joachim leaned back in his chair and watched me across the table with an expression of faint amusement in his eyes. "That," he said, his voice a low, condescending rumble, "is a Speyer wine. From one of the oldest preserved vintages in the world. It is considered priceless." I stared at him. "Priceless?” I scoffed . “I have never seen or tasted anything like this.” I said. “Even my uncle, who knows all the drinks in this world, haven't tasted this.” “So your uncle is a drunkard?” He asked, taking a slow, deliberate sip from his own glass, his piercing blue eyes never leaving mine.

And in the center, a telescope pointed toward the sky through the open ceiling above. "Oh my God," I whispered, taking in every detail. Then I noticed the charcuterie board, carefully arranged. Cheeses, fruit, nuts. And beside it, a bottle of wine with two glasses. It was a Kensington. Not just any Kensington. The 2015 vintage, one of the best we'd produced in the last decade. Rare. Expensive. The kind of wine a man buys when he really wants to impress a woman. The kind of wine Nick definitely couldn't afford.

The innocent girl suddenly felt hot, feeling his hand leave a delicious trail of hot tingles on her delicate skin as it slid higher. "El Enchanteur is rarely made. It is almost so sacred that no store worldwide easily gets the permission to put it on shelf. The obscure vintner only sells it to the most influential and gives out only three bottles for sale to the general public. Getting a single bottle means getting in line for a long time for an appointment. This year's bottles had already been booked two years ago. So how did you simply 'order' it?" He asked as everyone else took a tasting sip of their wine except Tommy. He was served grape juice. Natalia didn't know the importance attached

I selected a bottle of wine. I showed it to Marie. “What about this one?” She looked at the label and gasped. “That’s a collector’s edition of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti! It’s the 1945 vintage. It’s very rare and can sell for close to 500 000 euros under auction,” she exclaimed. “We can’t drink this!” “Why not? It’s old but it probably still tastes good,” I said lightheartedly. “After all, my father’s not going to miss it, is he?”

Her father and Marlowe have not yet returned from the Lagos Holdings post-engagement press meeting. Elowen walks over to the massive, wall-length display case in the center of the hall. Rows of ultra-rare, century-old wolf-blood wines sit behind reinforced glass—Benedict Hartwell’s most prized possession, worth millions of credits and gathered from alpha territories across the world. She opens the glass door, reaching into the center shelf. She pulls out the holy grail of his collection—a rare 1892 bottle of Royal Silver-Blood Wine, a priceless artifact gifted to Benedict by the Pack Council.

Anthea was startled for a moment when she heard Maxi's words, her face flickered with a hint of awkwardness. But very quickly, Anthea returned to her usual cold expression. Quickly take long strides out of the awkward atmosphere in the room. In her mind, she couldn't help but think about what had just happened. A large cellar, inside a rundown popular pub. In recorded history, each oak grain represents the longevity of the tree. The older it is, the better the quality of the wood and wood resin in it, which can harmonize the taste of the soaked wine. The oak barrels used to store wine in the room are all hundreds of years old, the veins are very even and beautiful. The value of those oak bar

I wondered if this was some kind of intimidation technique that they were using to make her blurt out what she knew. I didn’t want to ruin their efforts and risk getting them to glare at me instead. “I think I have some useful information,” She said, making all of us look at her. “What is it?” I asked excitedly hoping that this was the real deal at last. “Cirillo always has a celebratory drink after every win that he achieves in his game plan. There is always a regular supply of their bottle from his own vineyard where he has a special wine made for himself. He prefers only that bottle of wine on special occasions. I don't remember the name but I am sure you can search about it,” she said, m

With regret in his voice, he said, "You really don't want to have a taste? This is wine brewed with the blood of gods and devils in Immortal Vanquishing Valley." "It took you a hundred years to make such a pot. If I take a sip, you will lose one mouthful." At the same time, Star Nelson's figure slowly walked out from the shadow on one side. "Oh? The Emperor actually told you about this?" The youth's eyes widened in surprise, but then he narrowed them again. "But if you were to drink it, I wouldn't feel bad even if I gave you this pot." "We're on our way. It's not a good time to drink." Star Nelson refused again.

I didn’t know how to explain it, so I just said, “He is a murderer.” “Well, he is the Immortal King. What did you expect?” Lena now said and I looked at her confused like she thought it was normal for someone to kill someone else. “I think what Lena is trying to say is, that the immortals are known for their brutality and force. I know you haven’t been raised to know their ways and I think you need to see it from an immortal’s point of view as normal.” Aunt Beverly said but she had no clue what I witnessed before my eyes or the fact of what happened because of his actions.