Lost Roses Book Novels & Stories

Strangers lingering just long enough to glance my way and disappear. It didn’t feel like coincidence. It felt like someone was guarding me. “I don’t know who it is,” I continued, “but it doesn’t feel bad. It feels… careful.” Mara considered that. “Secret admirer?” I let out a breath of a laugh. “Maybe. Maybe someone from the publishing project. There were letters before. Poetic, anonymous. They stopped for a while, then one appeared again—with a gift.” “What kind of gift?” “A first edition copy of my favorite childhood book. The one I lost during the move.”

Sean said before he made a rose appear seemingly from thin air, “A beautiful rose for the even more beautiful Claudia.” At those words Claudia’s expression darkened and she stood up causing her black gown to swirl around her matching the stormy look in her eyes. “What’s wrong? Did I say something wrong?” he said while wondering why Claudia wasn’t teasing him about being corny like she normally would. At that Claudia looked at him and took the rose from his hand but said as she pricked her finger with a thorn, “Yes, a rose is beautiful, but it is dangerous due to its thorns. Like the rose, I may be beautiful, but I am a predator of the night. A monster wrapped in a pretty skin.” As she finish

After all, his body is what makes the newbies feel intimidated. The De Rosel fighters moved into position, forming a loose circle around Amethyst. The abandoned building's silence was broken only by the sound of shuffling feet and the distant drip of water echoing through the empty halls. The battle is about to begin, and they cannot be defeated. On La Xiena Mafia's side, it is okay for them to lose since nothing will happen; they will still have the chance to increase their rank in the mafia. But this is not the case with De Rosel; after all, when they lose, they die.

I quickly place my backpack down and unzips the top, taking out a book with a girl dressed in a long white gown and a white rose tainted with blood in the front cover to pass time faster, the title reads 'White Rose' by Grace Angel. I open the page where I had left off, and forget the world exists as I read away. I'm at the part where Chase is visiting Jennie's grave, and he is still so hurt over her death that he yells. Screaming at the grave, he tells Jennie he hates her for leaving him. Unable to comprehend why she had died. Just when I'm ready to turn the page, my book is snatched away by Amber, making me look at her, confused.

Inside were her clothes, her books, and her drawings. He walked to the desk and saw a neat stack of sketch paper. On every sheet was his face. One showed his profile when he was focused on work, another captured the gentle curve of his smile, and others showed the deep creases on his forehead when he was serious. Each one was drawn with painstaking care. Silas' hands trembled as he flipped to the last page. It was a sketch of him sleeping, with a small note scrawled beside it. 'Silas, rest when you're tired. I'll always be waiting for you—Chloe.'

The girl leaned close, and the boy looked up at her, the corners of his eyes curving slightly. His gaze was full of her. He smiled and pointed to the flowerpot she had just placed nearby. Half teasing, he said, “Then Cecilia is a red rose. Delicate and thorny. Only I can afford to take care of you.” Cecilia turned and looked at the roses Lucas had placed in the room that morning. And tears streamed silently down her face.

The waterfall roared louder than usual, but a rancid smell overpowered the usual scent of roses. Rogues were waiting for her, not Xavier. One of them was the unkempt man from the market. Rose readied herself, then she felt him. Xavier, running flat out, drawn by the bond. He burst into the clearing, eyes blazing. “Rose, run!” “No, we fight together.” Then the wild roses moved like a living thing. They had always grown thick here, but tonight they came alive. Vines wrapped her ankles, thorns gentle against her skin, petals brushing her face.

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 opened the door just a few inches and saw a small cardboard box sitting on the carpet with no name and no return address, so I pulled it inside and opened the lid while the others crowded around me to see what was inside. Resting on a bed of white tissue paper was a single rose made of delicate glass and the stem was broken in half so it looked dead and jagged, and I knew immediately that it was a message from Elena Romano because that rose was the symbol of the investment firm we had burned down in Berlin.

The reply came faster than she expected. Emmeline stared at the message, gripping the phone tightly as frustration and disbelief bubbled up inside her. “This man will definitely be my downfall!” She mumbled exasperated before collapsing onto the couch, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes fell on the open book lying abandoned with a wilted rose marking the page. She smiled despite herself, brushing her fingers over the faded burgundy petals. Who would have thought that rose—gifted by Zavian with his signature blend of charm and arrogance—would become a keepsake she couldn’t bear to throw away?