Reborn As A Big Mouth Flower Novels & Stories

Chapter 1- The morning Iris is reborn. Three months until her birthday “Good morning, future Alpha,” Daria sings bringing Iris a tray. “Your breakfast is here.” “Thank you, Daria,” Iris fakes her former stupid self. Inside she is boiling. “This smells amazing.”

“What you have brought, so be returned. Wood to ash as fire burns. I give you back all that you deserve.” The flowers flare bright, burning white hot like magnesium and Carson’s unearthly agonized scream rings through the night’s gelid air. Through the talisman, I feel him push back. At the ends of their roots, the lilies wither and droop. Across the too short distance, Carson looks at his hands, pats his body after the flowers flared on him. “Well that was sure as fuck something.” He dusts off. “Too bad for you. When you going to get it through that pretty head of yours, princess? I’m an immortal god now. Listen, this has all been very educational, but it’s gotten dull, so I’m going to go.

Her previous life is just like a flash movie through her mind. Catherine looked at Harris with teary-eyes, that made him feel awkward. She seemed to have been calloused and lost all hope in life. She had been tortured and she drowned to the deepest, darkest hole. Reviving a life, the twenty-seven-year-old soul only wishes for once to be fully loved and held by a person's hand.

He bent down and picked up a flower. “This is a sweet pea flower. It’s pretty, like you.” He placed the flower by my ear “Is this your favorite?” I asked. He shook his head. “I like Tsubakis. They remind me of my mother.” He smiled and reached for my hand. “Let’s go, it’s getting really cold.” I nodded and we ran. [End of flashback] “Is something the matter?” I snapped out of my trance and looked at him. I shook my head.

The car started and pulled away toward the company, toward a different rebirth, toward a brighter future. For the rest of this life, I would be unbreakable, untouched by poison, unpierced by steel, with a heart stripped of softness, and a soul finally free.

"Roxy, you did great. I'll take our daughter for her checkup later." Jensen Highmore's voice rang gently beside me as he held our baby in his arms, his expression soft and tender. A sudden chill ran through me as I jolted awake to the realization—I had been reborn. There was no time to think about how or why. I quickly spoke up to stop him. "No need. I'll take her myself. Didn't you say you had to work overtime? You don't have to stay here."

He must be furious! [Feels good! The spot's finally back where it belongs. First step in crushing that impostor's dream!] [Nice one, Horace! Dump the trashy troublemaker girl, go to the same university as the female lead, and take back everything that belongs to you. That's the real heir storyline!] I didn't say a word. Horace let out a deep breath, as if he was finally releasing all the frustration he had carried since being reborn. "Brian, I'm really sorry about this, but this admission spot was always supposed to be mine. Getting back what belongs to me feels pretty damn good. Without a top university on your record… What do you think you'll ever amount to?"

Within its confines, a story was unfolding—a tale that would one day shake the balance of the underworld and the lives entangled in it. The figure stirred, weak and scarred, the faint scent of antiseptic mingling with the earthy aroma of the mountains outside. Weeks of uncertainty had passed since a daring rescue pulled her from the inferno that had consumed her previous life. Though her body bore the marks of fire, the ember of determination in her soul remained unextinguished.

Her teeth were showing through patches of skin and gums, and what was once her nose was almost entirely gone. Her screams were little more than guttural groans as she tried to keep her eyes closed which was almost impossible because the toxins had eaten away her eyelids as well. "Ah, my mother? Are you wondering about her?" She did no such thing, but anything that would tip her a little further over the edge I'll use. I reached for my phone again and found the short clip of Ma laughing and dancing with Pop in the ballroom the night of the sweet sixteen.

"Isla isn't breathing anymore! It's your fault that our daughter has lost her mother at such a young age!" Felix Zane's roar ripped through the winter air as he knelt by my best friend, Isla Kingsley's drenched, ice-cold body lying motionless on the riverbank. The onlookers watched his grief-stricken display with pity in their eyes. If I hadn't been reborn, I might have believed his performance too. …