Lollipop Chainsaw Rosalind Novels & Stories

"Jasmine, this is Rosalind. She's known me longer than anyone alive, which she considers grounds for unlimited interference in my affairs." "Someone has to." Rosalind's eyes hadn't left my face, and there was something in her expression I couldn't quite name, not unkind, but searching, the same quality Eleanor's gaze had carried on that first video call. "You have his eyes. Charles's. I'd know them anywhere, even after all this time." The garden went very quiet. I felt my pulse in my throat, felt Eleanor's hand tighten further on my arm, a silent, urgent request for patience I didn't fully understand.

A different chain lashes toward her neck. Lila’s flare explodes, in mid-air a blaze slicing through the chain cutting it apart. Rosa tumbles away hacking up blood. She’s already upright her machetes humming. Mamá Sofia and Javier act in unison, scalpel and cleaver gleaming slicing through chains that coil around them, like animated snakes. Mamá’s scalpel strikes a chain cutting it sharply; Javier’s cleaver comes next cutting it off fully. The chain drops, twisting then vanishes into a vapor.

The hairs on my neck stood in alert, and I hated that just a sentence could easily startle me. I had been thinking about that very part since the beginning when I realized Rosalind was the white wolf from the history books. It seemed too easy, too good to be through that to take Rosalind’s power was just from old fashioned sex. I wanted to hope, to see how it may work but LolA’s words have exposed my fear like a clown in the box toy, and forced me to come to terms with it.

"You can't run from the Loom, Rebecca!" The voice boomed from the sky. I looked up and saw Ada, but she was twenty feet tall, her face a distorted mask of porcelain and thorns poking out of her skin. She was wielding a giant pair of silver scissors, the blades snapping shut with a sound like a guillotine. Snip. Snip. Snip. "Joshua doesn't want a saint," she hissed, her shadow stretching over me like a shroud. "He wants a wife. And you... you’re just a loose thread that should be taken care of."

[Rosalynd] “Well then,” I grabbed two big handfuls of Axel’s hair, bringing him closer to me. “What are we waiting for?” It takes him about 3 seconds to process what I just said before he grabs me and slams me into a tree, kissing me with the ferocity of a starving man devouring his first meal. The redwood bark is rough on my back as he presses us both into the trunk, his signature scent, like redwoods, warm honey, and home blending with the surrounding smells of wet earth and pine. Wrapping my legs around him, I hook my feet for stability as I begin to grind my hips into his groin his hand reaches up my t-shirt, grabbing my left breast as he squeezes it roughly, eliciting a yelp of exciteme

Melinda’s pain twisted into anger. There was no bigger surprise than this one she'd seen already. "I'm not interested" Rosalind smiled—slow, deliberate, cruel. “Don't be quick to reject it.” Melinda rolled her eyes. “You have no idea what you’ve just done.” “On the contrary,” Rosalind smirked, “I actually do. I helped the dark witches with a little favor, and you, my dear, are going to be my perfect bait to keep my little girl from trying anything stupid.”

Rosalind stopped mid-step, her hands hovering over the edge of the bed like she wasn’t sure if she should touch it anymore. “They’re fine,” she tried carefully. “They were just replaced last—” “I said take them out.” My voice came out flat, she knew not to argue. She nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.” I stood there while she bundled them up, like if I looked away, something would still be left behind. There was a faint smell of lavender. I couldn’t tell if it was real or just stuck in my head. “Everything,” I added. She hesitated. “Everything, sir?”

"Oh, I'm sorryMr. Lowell, is it? If you could bring Claire to me, I shall be out of your way shortly." "Yes, Your Ladyship." Lowell hastily departed, and Rosalind climbed out of bed, wincing as a number of muscles twinged in protest. Her feet were still blistered and her back still sore from the grain sacks. Her arms ached from an evening of carrying dishes. Walking through the pain, she rushed to the dressing room to see to her needs before Lowell returned with her maid. When she returned to the bedchamber, Claire had already placed Rosalind's valise on the bed and was muttering to herself as she shuffled through the clothes.

I felt like a spectator watching the two of them. “And, so what if it is what you are thinking?” Lisa snickered. “I can tear you into a thousand pieces right now, so don't play with me, woman.” “Who says I was? If you know what it is that you are holding, you'll dip yourself in water and wash your body for a whole week.” “What do you mean by that? What is that flower?” I asked, and she turned to glare at me, her eyes telling hatred and disgust. “Hasn't your little boyfriend told you yet? It's a lollipop.” She smirked and turned to Hardin, "Now you know what it is, out of my way, boy.”

“Don’t.” Daphne opened her mouth to protest anyway, but Rosalind raised an eyebrow. “I’ll win.” Daphne let out a long, dramatic sigh and turned for the little dining table. “Bossy.” Rosalind grinned, turning back to the stove to prepare a proper, unburnt breakfast of fried eggs and toast. Once she finished eating, Rosalind reached into the cupboard and pulled out the pill bottle. She slipped it into a separate zippered pocket in her bag as if it were something dangerous. For all they knew, it was.