Novel Candle Co Novels & Stories

“So you know who I am.” “Everyone knows who you are.” He stepped closer, hands in his pockets. “Good. Makes it easier. I came here looking specifically for you.” Mitchelle blinked. “Me?” “Yes. Your stall.” “Why?” He pointed at her shelf of candles. “I bought one from here last year. The one with amber and wood smoke. I liked it.” She swallowed. “You came back for a candle?” He paused and gave her a look that made her heart skip. “Maybe.”

The Dim lights, neat bed, and on the bedside table sat a candle. A Maison Margiela one. The glass was elegant, the label clean and expensive-looking. The label on it was clean and it clearly looked like a very expensive item. The lavender scent was already drifting through the room, soft and calming. I smiled to myself. She was very thoughtful. Really thoughtful. Most girls wouldn’t think to set something like this up for a first meeting. It made my chest feel warm.

Maybe they would be back by the time I was done picking some of the candles. Walking down the aisle of floral scented candles, I looked for one that'd cause an aphrodisiac effect, make sparks fly and ward off all his exhaustion. I might have just found it. Patchouli and rosewood. Delighted, I took the little jar secured with a red silk ribbon tied into a bow when two eyes white as a ghost's popped up at the back out of nowhere. A scream escaped my lips as I receded, my back hitting the shelf behind.

With roses and candles? I placed my handbag on the coffee table and looked out of the floor-to-ceiling window. It had a sweeping view of the city lights. Every corner glowed warm and intimate. Unlike the bubbling anxiety that I felt within me. Maybe I should have booked a normal room. “They lit a lot of c-candles.” I looked over my shoulder to find Dex in the entrance’s nook. Why does he look constipated? Damn, the Reddit forums didn’t talk about this. What should I do?

“Mostly working with creative campaigns. What about you?” Amanda smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m running a small shop. An artist? Well, sort of. I design and sell handmade candles and incense.” Henry’s interest seems to deepen. “That’s fascinating. Do you come up with all the scents yourself?” “Every single one,” Amanda replies. She glances sideways, noting the stiffness of Fiona’s smile.

I say, not bothering to pretend that’s not what I’m doing. “Candles are always good.” “How many and what scent?” I say, grabbing a cart and looking down the aisles until I find candles. “What surfaces do you have to put them on?” she asks. I think about the set up of my room. “A desk, a nightstand, a coffee table, and two end tables on either side of a loveseat.” “Two for the desk, three for the coffee table, and one each for the end and nightstands. I would go with something light, vanilla is always mild. Does she have a floral scent?”

“I don’t need it anymore.” He didn’t flinch. “Then I’ll give you something else instead. You paid. It would be wrong, against my nature, to let you leave with nothing of equal worth.” I exhaled a frustrated sigh and walked back to the counter, arms crossed. He placed two objects gently before me: a short, unlit candle and a wilting white flower. He gestured to the candle. “This is a demon-detection candle. It flares blue in the presence of evil.”

“I might be persuaded. But it would require significant compensation for my distress.” The clerk looked like she wanted to strangle me with her bare hands. Instead, with a trembling hand, she reached into the breast pocket of her resort polo and pulled out a single, fat white candle. She thrust it at me. “Take this. Please.” My fingers closed around the cool wax. The System pinged in my mind, information flowing in. Item Acquired: C-Grade Artifact – ‘Nightwalker’s Candle’ Description: Illuminates the path ahead. May guide the lost back to where they belong.

Chapter 140 — Candlelight Reading They waited until the house had settled into its quieter rhythms. The pack had drifted into sleep like embers falling—some room bright with the snore of contented boys, another room pricked by the soft tread of elders taking a late cup of tea. Celeste and Remy carried the charm into their bedroom by the small hearth, where the curtains kept the streetlight from bleaching the night. Remy set a single candle on the floor between them; the flame made both their faces into soft maps. He tucked the scrap of scarf that had wrapped the token into his palm, as if it might warm him against the awkwardness of secrets.