Ohshc Roses Mga Nobela at Kwento

Diego exited quickly before I could ask more questions. I inhale deeply, trying to calm my rapid heartbeat. I am here already. It's too late to back out. May as well see his boss. I smile as I wait, surrounded by blooming roses. Their delightful scent fills the air. I lean closer to one red rose and inhale its aroma. "Hmm, your scent is beautiful," I whispered. It's a blood rose—soft, dark petals inviting a touch, though the thorns are vicious. I was about to touch it when I heard someone clear his throat.

Her smile shrinks as if she sees something. “Hidi?” I move on my tippy toes to see what upsets her. But I’m still too short. Hidi has already changed the topic. “Oh, I love roses!” Hidi points to one of the last roses dried on the vine.” This one is one of our own.” “It- really?” I look over with new appreciation. “Do you mean the seed?” “Ja, It grows wild in our gardens. It’s like a weed.” Hidi laughs, moving her hands as if to express the amount.

I didn’t understand the fundamentals on how it worked, I just knew that it wasn’t by magic. Around the water fountain where neatly trimmed and healthy green bushes. A limestone walk way had been placed around the fountain, connecting it to three other possible routes from the Science center. One lead to the Palace, the Knight training center, and the Town Center. Along each walk way was a lining of rose bushes decorated with many different colors. My favorite ones where the black roses, their petals seemed significantly softer than the others. The smell so sweet and intoxication that I always find myself bending over and sniffing them every time I pass. They said that these specific roses wh

she replied. "Nothing much... Means something happened," I said. "Well... I'll be fucking someone today," she replied making me choke on my spit. "You'll be doing what?" I asked like I had not just heard what she said. "You heard me right," she replied. "But.... What about your mate?" I questioned. "Look... Rosie. I'm an Omega. I accept my fate that my mate may probably never accept me when he realizes who I am," she responded. " So ... It's best I enjoy my life before I get old."

He stood beside it, tall and imposing, holding a bouquet of flowers. They were roses—grey matcha forest roses, fresh and elegant, their muted green hues striking yet understated. They suited him perfectly. I stood frozen, watching as he approached. When he handed me the bouquet, his voice was soft, almost tentative. "Are you still angry about the flowers?" I took the roses, my throat tightening. My eyes stung as I lowered my head to inhale their delicate scent. When I looked up at him, I forced a smile, my lips curving despite the ache in my chest.

Her voice was too smooth. I looked at the chest. “What’s inside?” I asked. “A charm for protection, Princess.” She answered. I felt Roses stir at my hip, wrapped against me in her sling. Her tiny fists clenched as if she knew something I didn’t. A faint glow around my neck gave a faint pulse, like a heartbeat answering hers. I was told it was a pearl and it could pulse anywhere in my body. Mara stepped forward. Too close. And then, Roses cried. Not a soft whimper but a shrill, panicked scream. The pearl flared, white-hot light spilling from it, so bright Mara hissed and dropped the chest.

I hiss. “ Are you sure, Boss? It’s a rare breed of roses, pure blood in color and more fragrant— ” “ Rip them to shreds. ” I cut in, fire burning along my veins. I don’t want to hear how I chose those flowers after carefully examining every breed of red roses. Just because I wanted to give her the best of everything. “ On it, Boss. ” Josh replies. The door opens and closes after he leaves. I take in a deep breath, unclenching my fists.

“Are you serious?” “Not as serious as Lover Boy is!” She steps aside. Right on cue, several men and women in uniform march in carrying vases of blood red roses, a large box tied with velvet ribbon, and yet another prenatal-packed smoothie with an itemized label of every ingredient slapped on the side. Okay. I might be enjoying the attention a little bit. Just the teensiest, tiniest little bit. “How many roses this time?” Hazel lets out a low whistle as she does a quick count. “Four dozen. And the expensive kind. Don’t these last a whole year?”

But the smell; burning fabric, plastic, flesh, hit her like déjà vu. She stumbled back, chest heaving. Not again. From the hallway came a final, echoing scream, and then the unmistakable crackle of fire.

I opened my own studio, and my days became full, vibrant, and happy. One night, Jordan stepped out of the shower, a towel slung loosely around his waist. As he turned, I caught sight of a tattoo on the small of his back. I leaned closer. It was a rose in full bloom—beside it, a little girl dancing. My fingertips trembled as I traced it, my eyes stinging. "I had it done when I was seventeen," he said softly. His gaze lowered to mine, eyes shimmering with starlight. "I wanted to keep it a secret until the day you became my bride."