Robaire Turning Red Novels & Stories

"my thoughts exactly, what you got in mind?" "Our hidden firework stash in the barn" "Yes," Acre says with a big grin, I can feel the excitement radiating off him, his wolf Forest is jumping around with excitement and Abyss my wolf he's just as excited, he's tipping at me. All of a sudden I feel Acres excitement deflate and Forest is on alert, Acre has frozen staring at the t.v. screen, in confusion I turn to see what he's looking at and there she is on the screen clinging to another girl, I looked closely at her long brown hair and big wide brown eyes, she was radiating fear

If it gets wet, it gets see-through or you ended up staining it with food marks. Seeing the red underneath my shirt made me pause, remembering Reed go red and I narrowed my eyes. "Oh that arse-wipe,"

Robert is the one who answers stepping into the room and pulls the glass from his inner coat pocket. “Then what are we waiting for? Why don’t we combine the rest of the ingredients?” Roman asks as though the procedure in discussion is nothing more than a business plan that needs executing. “We don’t have quartz dust from the soul plant.” I say feebly. With all eyes on me, I explain how Robert and I looked through the fields but it was recently tended too by the vampire gardener. Robert also reveals the mark that the claws of that disgusting creature had left. He pulls back his shirt and three punctured holes are pierced through his skin. Dry blood is crusted around the wounds, though the hol

Alfred waved his hand making the dome disappear. Throwing seeds on the snow Nara yelled ‘eight drills’. Large thorns grew from the seeds; some crawled on the bear’s foot and drilled into it while others tried to penetrate its chest. Chevy whose leg was partially healed removed the cork of a tiny bottle then splashed the green liquid inside on the bear arm. The bear growled in agony. Its arm began to corrode. The bear detached its hand from its shoulder knowing fully well that if it wasn’t careful its whole body would decay.

The coldness was spreading outward from my chest, freezing my ribs, making my fingers go completely numb. I looked down at my collarbone. The three-inch slice Ravena had left wasn't bleeding red anymore. The blood had turned thick, oily, and completely black. A faint, wispy trail of dark purple smoke was rising from the edges of the wound, eating away at the healthy skin like acid. Rohan’s face went completely pale, the gold in his eyes fracturing into a look of pure, unadulterated horror. "No," he muttered, his fingers tearing at the collar of my shirt to get a better look. "No, no, no. Cyrus! Look at this!"

The roses in the Vitale garden are not red. They are black baccara—a deep, velvety burgundy that looks like dried blood in the midday sun. I am on my knees in the dirt. It is part of the penance. Part of the show. I am wearing the grey uniform, stained at the knees with soil. My hands are gloved in rough canvas, holding a pair of heavy shears. Snip. I cut a deadhead from the bush. It falls to the ground, shriveled and brown.

“Numbers. Dates. Nothing I understood.” “Figures.” He sighed. “Come on, walk with me before you hyperventilate.” *** The corridor lights were dimmed for the night, throwing long shadows along tapestried walls. Alonso matched her steps; his shoulder brushed hers, deliberate. “You don’t strike me as the timid type,” he said. “Because I didn’t faint?” “Because your eyes are on fire.” She blinked. “Allergies.” He chuckled, genuine, warm enough to thaw the winter in her bones. Dangerous warmth.

The specific warm ochre she had been drawn to since she was twenty-two and had bought a secondhand blouse in that color from a market in Barcelona and had worn it until it had worn through at the cuffs and had thrown it away and had mourned it in the small specific way you mourned the loss of something that had been, without your planning for it, the right thing. Rust-red. Not burgundy — the Victoria colors had included a deep burgundy that was almost red, that was red's controlled and composed cousin. This was rust-red, the actual color, the color of something that had been out in the weather, that had warmth without precision, that was the color she bought when she bought for herself and n

she asked unhurriedly. Hearing that, Anathea simply curved her lips. "There were never any pink roses. They were all the white ones from before." "What?" A flash of surprise crossed Giselle's eyes. Evangeline was stunned for a few seconds as well. But upon observing how the rose stems had turned from green to red, realization dawned on her. "You used the color absorption technique?"

With her dark blue, long hair, she looked exotic. In fact, Darryl had seen many beautiful ladies, but when he saw Robin, he was stunned. 'She's so beautiful, but she's always dressed in long robes and hidden behind her mask. What a pity.' 'B*stard…' Seeing Darryl's eyes glued to her, Robin felt humiliated, and deep down, a rage stirred up. Suddenly, her vision turned black, and she almost passed out.