Night Owl Roses Novels & Stories

The aroma of the roses permeated the whole place—it was obvious that the roses were of a precious variety. “Looks like we have something fun to watch tonight!”

And sitting on the table is another envelope, just like the one I found earlier, along with a huge bouquet of roses. I approach the table slowly, my fingers brushing over the petals of the roses. My eyes linger on them, and that’s when I notice it. These roses... they’re different. Not like the usual roses I’ve seen before. Their red color is deeper, almost like it’s been kissed by the night itself, and there’s a tinge of darkness around the edges. It’s subtle but unmistakable. I recognize them instantly. These aren’t just any roses. These are from Mikhail’s garden. I’ve seen them before, growing here, in this very garden where he tends to them so carefully, where his hands work the soil lik

Not long enough for her to have fully recovered. She wasn’t running. Not yet. But she was hiding. And I wasn’t going to let her. — The scent of midnight roses filled the air, a dark, intoxicating mix of earth and petals. It should have been calming. It wasn’t. I stood at the edge of the overgrown garden, my sharp gaze scanning the wild expanse before me. The flowers swayed in the breeze, their deep reds and violets blending into the shadows. Tall trees loomed above, their branches casting jagged shapes against the moonlit sky.

My body was already fragile, worn out from the emotional and physical toll of the past days, and now someone was toying with me? As I reached for the doorknob again to close it, something caught my attention. A sharp, peculiar scent. Sweet, yet spicy. Oddly familiar, but...wrong. My eyes fell to the porch, and my breath hitched. A bouquet of Moon Flowers. Only, they weren’t the crystal white ones that gently glowed in the dark. These were black. Deep, glossy black, shimmering under the pale daylight like polished onyx. They didn’t just sit there—they loomed, almost alive in their stillness.

LILA Evening spread across the Packhouse in wide strokes of silver and blue. The air cooled, I stayed in the garden with Mara, the ground beneath us soft from the day’s work. The moon climbed slow over the ridge, pale and full, washing the rows in light that turned every leaf into glass. The crescent beds glimmered as if carved from frost. I knelt beside the central circle with the last pouch of seeds and loosened the drawstring. “These open only under moonlight,” I said, holding out the small white kernels. “Moonwort and night jasmine. They bloom when others sleep.”

Our cab had already arrived, so we got in and headed straight for Reno’s Boutique — one of the biggest in New York. I’d only heard about the place from Marielle, but stepping inside was something else entirely. The glass walls gleamed, the scent of expensive perfume filled the air, and designer dresses shimmered under the warm lights. I ran my fingers across one of them, smiling a little for the first time in days. Tessa and I started browsing through the racks. When we reached the trousers section, I picked a few to try on — and that was when I saw her. Marielle. She was clinging to Adrian’s arm like her life depended on it, laughing too loudly, too sweetly. The moment her eyes met mine, he

He gestured for Marcel to continue. “Where were you during the night of the Moon Festival?” “I was there, my lord,” she replied. “At the heart of the celebrations. I remember it well.” “And what happened that night?” Marcel asked, tone cautious. Rose Elenor glanced down at her hands, as if weighing her words. Then she spoke, voice steady but laced with something subtle—an effort, perhaps, to sound natural. “I was enjoying the festivities,” she said. “There was music, dancing, wine. At some point, I met a man—handsome, tall, from the Nightshade Wolves’ Pack. We danced. Talked a little. He was… kind.”

And as Martinez stepped into the dark foyer, the heavy, suffocating scent of expensive, sweet floral perfume hit my nose, completely masking the smell of the night. Seraphina’s perfume. Martinez stopped dead in his tracks, his entire body turning into a solid block of ice beneath me as he stared into the dark, empty house.

"What else?" "The flowers," I breathed, my heart hammering a frantic, erratic rhythm against my ribs as the dark, addictive chemistry between us flared to life. "No white lilies. They smell like a funeral. Use the dark roses from the estate gardens." "Marcus," Rowan called out without breaking eye contact with me. "Write it down." "Already on it, Boss," Marcus’s voice drifted from the shadows of the transept, laced with a quiet amusement that made my cheeks burn.

The winter roses were in full bloom, their petals glowing silver under the moon, frost edging their thorns like delicate lace. Liera gasped as they stepped into the clearing. “Wow… I had only heard of them. Never seen them.” The frozen roses stretched before them, their blooms perfect and ethereal, silver frost sparkling on every petal. The garden was a hidden jewel of Ravencrest, a place few were allowed to enter. Ryke had come here often when the weight of his duties grew too heavy. Now, he watched Liera as she stepped closer, her green eyes wide with wonder, fingers reaching out to touch a bloom without disturbing the frost.