Poisoned Honey Novels & Stories

I’m not sure I could count Rosaria as a normal teenager though. Grabbing a glass of Medovukha, I sat on the new couch looking out through the windows. The two on the left had been shattered but you wouldn’t even know. Outside was lit up with the city lights and offices still working. Sipping the sugary and yeasty drink, I sighed. Felicity had made this batch in her push to reach that 12% and with this one she used not just manuka honey but also white jewel strawberries. In her eyes it was a failure at only 10% despite using and importing some of the most expensive ingredients. When she tossed me two bottles, I told her it would be lost on me but she insisted. It was one of her best batches,

I said and she beamed. "Anything for you, my princess." She replied happily and I smiled at her again. The poison was a very deadly one, it was referred to as the "Purple poison", I didn't know why. It was a very rare and expensive poison, so basically, only the rich could kill with it. It contained a very deadly substance known as Aconitum and what I loved about it was that it carried normal symptoms of fever.

The specific scent of his cologne mixed with autumn air. The brushstroke wavered again became a muddy smudge. I stepped back, gripping the brush like a weapon. "Work,"I whispered to the empty room. "Just work." I turned to a half finished piece from weeks before a swirl of cool blues and grays. I had called it Equilibrium. I tried to lose myself in blending it. My hand jerked severally, A slash of pure, violent phthalo blue cut across the delicate gradients, ruining the composition. A gasp escaped me. It was a perfect metaphor for everything. Austin had ruined the composition of my life.

“It’s already a lot of money after you failed to fool anyone here! “If it weren’t for the Hunt family’s successful business, you wouldn’t even get the money in the first place! “Now leave! “Do you want to get thrown out after they break your legs?!” Harvey glanced at Veer, whose expression remained unchanged. “Since you’re still being courteous with me, and the fact that Ethan and I are brothers… “I’ll tell you one more thing. “The old lady’s infected with Corpse Poison! “The Honey Pill would deal with the old lady’s problem in its entirety…. “But the Lycan Pill is used to invigorate life. “She might come back, but her condition would worsen under three days. “If you’re not careful, she migh

She was aided by the revelation that locally grown honey was being touted as an allergen-resistance builder and for its many healing properties—on and on the good luck went, it seemed. When she mourned her own husband’s death (miserable, unreliable S.O.B. that he was), the bees had mourned along with her. She had draped all the wooden hives with black crepe for veils, lifting these only after Good-Time Larry’s burial to share sweets with them, and other foods brought to the funeral feast. Such were the ways of rural folk.

He shivered visibly and pulled the blanket higher around his chest. “You want to know the worst part?” he whispered. “I loved you. Even while I was killing you, I loved you. I called you honey because that’s what you were to me. My honey. My everything. And I destroyed it. I destroyed us.” Tears slipped down his wrinkled cheeks. He did not wipe them away. He just let them fall, his eyes fixed on the space where I stood.

While he was still staring, I poured more honey all over my silken bare mound and straight down into my open pussy, saturating every fold. “Look, Daaaddeee… quick! I’ve done it again… ohhhh! I can’t hold the jar without spilling it! Please help me… get it off me… it’s all over my sweet pussy… I don’t know what to do… please help me get it off!” I giggled loudly as his head dived between my legs. His tongue dragged long, hungry lashes up and around my bare skin, swallowing the honey. I knew how much he loved the stuff. It was his favorite every morning on toast, and now I was the toast with the most.

“Wake up, bro. Kid isn’t even here for you to claim lack of sleep for your slacking.” I shook my head and focused on stringing up the white and yellow streamers that went with the honey bee theme Pam and Hana decided on. I don’t think Hana gets the joke the same way I do. In the last decade, Pam has commented more than once about Winnie the Pooh and his bottomless hunger for honey compared to my hunger for her. Let Hana and everyone else think it’s just a cute baby thing or that Pam’s number on pregnancy craving has been honey. She puts that shit on everything… and I mean everything.

But he had chosen to leave, to disappear, to hide in the shadows while I ate his food and read his words and tried to make sense of a man I did not understand. I picked up the bread and tore off a piece, and the warmth of it spread through my fingers and into my chest. I dipped it in the honey and put it in my mouth, and the sweetness filled my tongue, and I closed my eyes and tried to remember the last time I had eaten something that tasted like this. The honey was rich and golden, with a floral undertone that reminded me of summer, of flowers, and of warmth that had nothing to do with fire.

"I made some warm milk. Drink it. It'll help you sleep better." "Thank you, Mister." But as my fingers reached out and touched the steaming porcelain cup, my world shook. My sense of smell caught the scent in a microsecond. Beneath the creamy aroma of milk and the sweetness of honey, there was a hint of artificial sweetness that was overpowering, followed by a faint herbal scent that immediately sent a chill down my spine. This was… poison. And not just any poison. This was the same poison that the damn chef had mixed into my food for days. A powder I had foolishly dismissed as a common herbal concoction before my wolf body reacted with utter rejection.