Rosalie Novels & Stories

She keeps her mark on full display by pulling her soft straight hair into a high stylish ponytail, adds a simple winged eyeliner with mascara on her eyes and nudish pink lip gloss to her plump lips. During our month apart, Rose learned a lot about wolves, one of the first being that we don’t like strong perfumes and scents. We prefer the natural scent that people are born with. She has since tossed anything with a strong scent, albeit that wasn’t much since Melinda purchased most everything she has. But Rose has double checked with most everyone she’s been around on her products, not wanting to offend anyone’s noses if she can prevent it.

A looked crossed his eyes,but it went away as quickly as it came, and soon he was looking at me amused again. "Of course, I didn't anticipate finding raunchy books in a sweet girl's bag, you're definitely right. Noted, I'm never doing that again." I scowled and he smirked. "So Rosie?" He asked, I couldn't help it, I rolled my eyes at that, rubbing at my temples. "No, my name's Rosette, not Rosie. That's childish." "Okay, so Rose. Well that's a pretty name for a very pretty girl, as cliché as it sounds, it's the truth, you're a pretty little flower." And the blush that was barely receding was back again.

what if he commanded her to kiss him? Smiling at her stupidity, Rosalie allowed her wolf to lead her. It took her down to a small river she had once picnicked beside Alpha Jacqueline. Without thinking, she stripped all her clothes and dived into the water. It was still and cool, just what she needed. Rosalie smiled and lifted her face to the moon. “If you can hear me, moon goddess, can you please make me forget Jacqueline? I want to forget everything about him, forget he ever existed.” “And yet I cannot forget about you.”

“I promise, I’m going to handle everything. Give me a moment.” Rosalie disappeared up the stairs to her sister’s room to retrieve her cellphone. Then she sat down at the edge of the couch, away from a sobbing Rory, and began to scroll through Rory’s phone. When she saw the video, she gave Rory a glance before she pressed play. Anger filled her veins as she watched Leslie spill wine all over her sister; more anger surged when she noticed the camera zooming in on Rory’s chest. Rosalie stood up angrily. “That fucking bitch! What on—”

A hefty tip. The woman's eyes widened slightly, but she took it and uttered a low thanks before going back to do her job. "Yes," I murmured, still getting used to being associated with a name I knew almost nothing about except for the power and protection that came with it. "Nikolai," he held out a hand. "It is nice to meet you, Black Rose." I took his hand, not wanting to be rude. His palms were soft, dry, and the warmth of it caught me off guard. He held me longer than necessary before letting go.

And she wasn't Rose. So whatever they'd had—if it had ever been anything at all—was gone. All that remained was Mickey's hatred. His face was dark as storm clouds as he stepped forward, planting his foot hard on Chloe's chest, pinning her down as he stared down at her. "Tell me," he said coldly. "Why did you pretend to be Rose? How did you know all those things?" Chloe shook her head, eyes brimming with tears. But Mickey was past his limit. He pressed down harder.

S he walked over to the laptop sitting on the desk and slowly, carefully, plugged in the USB She waited for the video to load while opening the envelope, it contained details of the event, she kept it aside Her fingers trembled slightly as she pressed play. The screen lit up with the elegant Rome villa, softly glowing in gold light. She saw Alessandro in a sharp suit, drink in hand, she saw the crowd, the laughter, the smiles. Then she saw the girl. Rosalie, wearing a soft peach dress She'd seen enough pictures to know how she looked at first glance but here, watching this clear footage. She realized how beautiful she was, sleek long dark brown hair, awkward b

Death Is Just the Beginning Upon Your Return - Episode 15 Hours afterward, as she pushed through a crowd of men and women with her maid and her driver Pierre lugging two baskets behind them, Rosalie pointed to an amber-colored fruit. “From Spain, Mademoiselle. Shall we?”

I opened my own studio, and my days became full, vibrant, and happy. One night, Jordan stepped out of the shower, a towel slung loosely around his waist. As he turned, I caught sight of a tattoo on the small of his back. I leaned closer. It was a rose in full bloom—beside it, a little girl dancing. My fingertips trembled as I traced it, my eyes stinging. "I had it done when I was seventeen," he said softly. His gaze lowered to mine, eyes shimmering with starlight. "I wanted to keep it a secret until the day you became my bride."

𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐞.... 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐫