Red And Black Hearts 소설 & 이야기

Without waiting for his reply, I waked into the kitchen and placed the meat and potato cheese enchiladas in a plate to heat it. “Myra!” “What?” I called back, turning on the oven. “I think we need to talk.” I turned in surprise, his voice was closer. He was leaning against the counter staring at the fridge magnets we had. There were a lot. Both, Zivah and I looked them and collected them wherever we went. I walked towards him, following his gaze. His eyes went strained on one magnet in particular. It was a dark red star with hope written on it in white. Zivah had got in a few months back and it was one of my favourite ones.

I wanted to say more, but when I saw how dark his eyes were, I stopped. I always visualize red as a color that symbolizes love, blood ... and anger. But that moment, I realized black, too, could symbolize anger. Because I saw it in his very dark eyes. The lividity that only darkness could justify. "You always think of me that way, huh?" His voice was low, thick and icy. My heart pounded. The familiar rhythm rocked my heart in the most treacherous manner. But at the end, like the usual, I said the words easier to say.

“The colors are orange and black, which would indicate Halloween, but there are hearts on it with ‘I LUV U’ and ‘BE MINE’ on them, which are Valentine’s Day candies.” Zane frowned and nodded. “And that mask over there, it’s got playing cards on it, which would indicate it’s for a gambling or casino theme, but it’s also got a Red Cross on it, which makes no sense.” “I’ve donated to the Red Cross,” he said absently. “Not the Moon Cross?” I asked, which basically did the same thing as the Red Cross, but for werewolves. “Them too.” I looked at another mask and laughed. “Oh dear.”

the Emperor warns, his expression deadly serious. What? He’d really let them lynch me? “Think, Liora. We’re on a countdown. If we don’t win, neither you nor your stupid friend will,” he argues. “Let’s just beat it out of her!” Someone in the crowd shouts behind him. “Okay, okay,” I say quickly to avoid more threats. “The black heart is a riddle. Every one of us has some darkness inside us, no one is completely flawless. So the black heart is inside each one of us, and that’s what you’re supposed to take to the heart of the island," I explain.

are those Blackstone roses? The card reads simply: "For the woman who paints truth in blood. -L.M." My fingers hover over the cadmium red, the exact shade from my nightmares when Damien's shadow swallows the sunlight. "Get rid of it now." His voice is colder than the Arctic shipment Elena intercepted last week. I tilt my head, deliberately stroking the sable bristles. "I didn't know you cared." His jaw ticks. Then the wall behind us explodes with a large “BOOM!”

The security camera’s red light was blinking—once, twice… then it held solid. From the screen came a faint click. And then— The feed went black.

"You already prepared them?" I nodded, keeping my tone steady. "Didn't you say they were coming for him on Christmas Eve? You might as well start getting things ready." A flicker of guilt crossed her face. "Timothy, there's no need to rush. As long as Lincoln acknowledges Caleb..." I waved her off. "If Caleb's going to be publicly recognized as a Lancaster, he needs to be the legitimate son. If you don't marry Lincoln, people will laugh at you." "Mom! He's right! Just hurry up and divorce him! Then, you can marry Lincoln!" Caleb was holding a brand new remote-controlled sports car—clearly a gift from Lincoln.

my voice came out softer than intended, my pitch falling with every word. Then I realized just how close we were. Our faces were barely inches apart. I could feel his breath on my lips, warm and slow.. And I didn’t move. Neither did he. I could see in his eyes that he was just holding himself back. He reached for my hands and slowly placed it on his exposed chest— right over his heart. Without breaking our intense gaze. “Here,” he murmured. I opened my mouth to speak—anything—but the only sound that escaped was a soft gasp… more like a moan escaped my lips.

The warmth and tenderness had faded, replaced by anger, resentment, and violence. She paused for a moment, her eyes staring blankly at the floor as she wiped away the last of the mess. She wasn’t going to wait for things to go back to how they once were,she had given up on that hope ages ago. The realisation hit her like a cold wave, the love they once shared was gone, and no amount of wishing or waiting would bring it back.

I followed her gaze and froze. The sleek black car pulled to a stop, and even before the door opened, my heart plummeted. I knew. I knew. And when the door did open, when her heels clicked onto the driveway like gunshots, my heart stuttered. Lilian. Elegant. Perfect. Cold. Vincent’s wife. She wore a blood-red dress that matched the sharp slash of lipstick on her mouth. Her dark hair was pinned up, every strand meticulously in place. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a luxury magazine.