Romancing Minthara Novels & Stories

Dante and Sebastian are of course in the same quarters but different rooms. Completely idle, Dante invited Sebastian to watch a movie with him. Sebastian who has been wanting an alone time with him agreed immediately. There was a mini theatre in the ship so they settled to watch every movie they could. They watched almost all genre. Romance, horror, melodrama, tragedy, comedy. Sebastian wasn't paying attention to the screen the whole time. Watching Dante's reactions was more enjoyable.

I asked and she smiled faintly at me "I don't know Rory, but we would lit candles all over the cactus, wouldn't you love that?" She asked me and i giggled softly Levare's candlelight has always and will always be my best time of the year, seeing I get to lit candles all over the Cactus and sing, I'm Aurora Martin, Rory for short

The Face-Slap of the Seventh’s Arrival The tunnel ahead of them suddenly flared with neon-green light. A figure emerged from the shadows. It wasn't a soldier. It was Mina. Her tactical suit was torn, and her eyes were glowing a brilliant, terrifying green. She moved with a jerky, unnatural grace, her head tilting at an angle that should have snapped her neck. "Elena," Mina said, but the voice was a thousand-person layer, a chorus of everyone Elena had ever lost. "The Archive is incomplete without the Heir. Why do you resist the inevitable? Conflict is the disease. The Seventh is the cure."

Her auburn hair was braided with crimson roses and obsidian beads, and her ruby eyes shone with fierce, uncontainable joy. Alaric’s hand rested protectively on hers. As they reached the dais, he leaned in and whispered something only she could hear. Victoria smiled — soft, emotional — and kissed his cheek before stepping onto the platform. Then came Raven. General Thorne — newly promoted to High Command of Valros — walked beside her with quiet pride. Raven wore an elegant white gown that seemed to drink in the blood moon’s crimson light and reflect it back as soft silver and violet. The silk flowed like moonlight over water, embroidered with delicate silver ravens in flight along the bodice

"The physical symbols we're supposed to exchange." Adrian stared at the mounting disasters. Then started laughing. "This isn't funny," Aria said. "It's hilarious. Everything that can go wrong is going wrong. It's like the universe is testing if we really want this." Adrian grinned. "Plot twist: we do. We'll figure it out." "How?" Lyra demanded. "The wedding is in seven days!" "Shadow flowers," Cassian said suddenly. "Demon flowers don't blight. They thrive in darkness. We use those."

Majori’s POV: I… am not dead? With great effort, I lifted my eyelids, feeling exhaustion deep to the bone. The first thing I saw was a high ceiling covered in old European motifs. The gilded patterns had faded with time, forming roses and winding grapevines that intertwined like a frozen garden suspended in the air. At the center hung a massive crystal chandelier, its glass droplets scattering faint light across the ceiling cold, yet exquisitely beautiful. This… was the room Vincent had given me when I first came to the Silverfang Pack.

He tore off the soft blue-and-gray scarf around his neck—my scarf—and laid it gently at Celeste's feet like an offering. To anyone else, it would have looked like a grand, romantic gesture. To me, it was just trash. I'd spent three months knitting that scarf. My fingers had been pricked and sore, bleeding more than once. And now, he'd placed my heart under her designer heel for her to step on. The cold wine dripped down my neck, making me shiver. "I didn't take anything," I said, voice tight. "I don't even know what you're talking about—"

The lantern cast her shadow long and warped against the wall, stretching her thinner than she really was. There was something on the table. She hadn’t left it there. Ben felt the spike of fear the moment her eyes landed on it. A ribbon. It lay coiled neatly beside the lamp, pale blue, clean and new. Completely out of place in the modest, worn-down room. Her breath hitched as she reached for it, fingers hovering just above the fabric. She hadn’t owned anything like this. Her chest tightened. She picked it up, the silk cool and unfamiliar against her skin. It smelled faintly of something sharp and foreign, like leather and smoke.

I told her. "Very well. I will cook something simple. Please take all the time you need. I'll be in the kitchen when you are ready." "Yes. Thank you." I watched her leave, and just when she was about to exit the door, I asked, "Excuse me. I'm sorry but I didn't get your name." "My name is Ming-May, Miss Amelia. Welcome to Master Niko's home. I'm sure you will enjoy your stay here." Niko? Who is Niko? I thought this penthouse belonged to Lorenzo.