Novel & Cerita Novel Dahlia

She was soft-spoken, patient, always humming some old tunes under her breath. But Dahlia on the other hand… Dahlia was a wildfire with claws and teeth. Back then, she was rising through the ranks faster than anyone else, clawing her way up with nothing but instinct and sheer force of will. One of the youngest wolves to make it into the inner ring of warriors before she'd even turned twenty. Then Ava and I fell in love, and when she died, Dahlia went on a rampage, killing over a dozen of Varen’s men. And somewhere between all the ashes and grief, Dahlia traded her leather armor and blades for tailored pantsuits and business textbooks.

"Just go." Still suspicious, but too tired to argue, I walked up the stairs, my footsteps echoing through the quiet halls. As I reached the bedroom, I noticed the faint scent of something sweet and familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it. I opened the door. It was pitch black. I blinked, instinctively reaching for the switch near the door. Lights bathed the room instantly and my eyes landed on her, Dahlia, standing confidently in the center, dressed in a sultry crème evening gown that hugged her figure and parted just right enough to reveal her long legs.

Dahlia on the other hands my helplessness fun and she can’t help giggling. ‘13 going, OH! 30.’ My eye linger on this for a while but I pass. ‘The girl Next door’ I pass. ‘First Daughter’ pass ‘Wuthering Heights!” Now this one grips my attention, probably because I’ve heard the book classic back in high-school days. Dahlia and I settles for wuthering Heights. After going over the necessary procedures, we are in the dimly lit movie room with a host of other people. I’ve never been a much more cosy place.

Killian’s P.O.V The grand hall was alive with murmurs and quiet conversations, the air thick with anticipation. But the moment we stepped in, an eerie silence fell over the room, as if the walls themselves held their breath. Every eye turned to Dahlia—her torn dress, the bruises lining her delicate skin, the trembling in her frame despite the fierce determination she tried to hold onto.

I totally abandoned the book before me and I was on the edge of my seat when I saw that she had read the text. I bit down on my bottom lip as I looked around my library. I had always been focused on work, but this girl had me thinking of nothing but her. My phone pinged and my eyes went wide. She actually responded. [Dahlia: what date?] Was she trying to play dumb? I thought with a frown. [Me: the one with the Roman kid. You were talking about it pretty loudly] I took the bait anyway. [Dahlia: I didn’t go on a date with him. I don’t like him like that]

Her father is hardly ever home, working long hours in the city while her mother spends most of her time grading papers from all of her high school students. She opens the door quietly, but there is no need. Her mother is still awake. She's curled up in the living room reading her latest adventure novel wrapped on the comfy (and dare she call ugly) recliner her father just had to have. Her curly auburn hair is up in a bun with a few stray strands spiraling free as her eyes intently scan the new Kindle she received for her birthday only a few weeks ago. It's safe to say she has become a little obsessed with it. Can't say Sera can blame her. She herself escapes to a different world every time s

I preferred curiosity. Who was this person? What did they want? And why now? Three years was a long time. Long enough for memories to fade. Long enough for witnesses to leave. Long enough for a person to believe that the past had finally stopped following them. Apparently, I had been wrong. A knock came from outside my room. "Dahlia?" Ava. "Come in." She opened the door slowly. "Are you going to school?" "Eventually." She entered. "You okay?" I smiled.

Four minutes later, I put dry, slightly uneven toast on a plate and looked at it and looked at the maids and dared any of them to say something. Mara said something. "Miss Dahlia used to make Alpha Darryn eggs," she said, wiping down the counter with long, even strokes. "Soft scrambled. He liked them with the chives from the back garden. She knew exactly how long—" "Dahlia," I said clearly, "is not here." "No," Mara agreed. "She's not," she kept wiping. "Say what you want to say," I told her. Mara set down the cloth, turned around, and looked at me with the expression of a woman who had been waiting for this invitation for six days.

Jax slipped out, closing the door behind him and leaving me alone with her. As much as I hated to admit it, Dahlia was gorgeous. She was tall, striking, and possessed the kind of perfection that usually made Alphas lose their minds. But she completely irked me. Her scent—a cloying, heavy floral that smelled entirely artificial—irritated the back of my throat, and I simply didn't like her. There was nothing genuine about her. Not like my Nat. “Lady Dahlia,” I said, my voice deadpan as I kept my eyes on my paperwork. “What a surprise. I was sure you'd gone back to the Everwood Pack. Why are you still here?”