Rosario Vampire Gin Novels & Stories

Why would anyone want to pour these stuff into their mouths? Saw my puzzled look at the menu, Al chuckled as he waved the waiter over: "Gin tonic." The waiter served us quickly. "That's your favorite?" I narrowed my eyes at the simple, pure looking liquid. It didn't seem fancy like the cocktails other customers were taking away. "Just one sip." Al nodded at the glass, gazing at me. Surprisingly, not too bad. I fell in love with the drink right away. It had a special pine rosin flavor, not sweet and not too spicy.

I might say I’m quite beautiful and had a nice body which attracts men. “Thank you! You look awesome too" Rosa was really a diva! She wore a red skirt with a slit just above her thigh and just a bra type for her upper. It really match it with her brown reddish hair. “C'mon! hop in. When we were actually in the bar it was quite load since it was friday. We ordered a VIP seat and Sangria for me which is a typical beverage and Strawberry Daiquiri for Rosa. The night was full of fun, we dance on the floor. And enjoy the night together. Just a moment a waiter bring us a drink.

I shrugged my shoulders and managed a weak smile. "Alright! Is there any particular drink you prefer?" Gary strolled over to Rosalie's cage and squatted down, displaying a bottle of vodka and red wine. "Although there'll be a little twist added to it. I suppose a bit of alcohol will help ease the humiliation," essentially admitting that what he had in mind for her would be nothing short of torture.

He hadn't even checked to see what had happened to her. I felt my anger rise as these thoughts pulled through my mind. Now that Mia was no longer in danger, I knew that I could give reign to my anger. The vervain had essentially poisoned her blood, making it undrinkable to any vampire. It wouldn't hurt her because her human blood protected her. But no vampire would be able to digest that, not to mention how revolting it would smell to all of them now.

What does it take to piss off a drug dealer? He kissed me as he pumped the drug into me. The next day looking at me in distress, he only lowered his eyes and said two words, "Beg me." Later, he hugged me and said he was sorry countless times, told me to be good, don't cry, and don't go. I caressed his face and laughed out loud. 1 When the mission closed, I handcuffed him. He tilted his head and asked me.

Two names didn’t make it to the list his party members shortlisted, and Zen wondered why. “The Margarita is daintier than a Cosmopolitan. Your Valentini is a tad more flirtatious and forward-coming with her sweetness, but she packs a punch if you drink too fast. A Cosmorita is similar to the Cosmopolitan on the outside, but it is made from stronger stuff on the inside. Screwdrivers are more sour, but it is a staple drink. If you’re feeling adventurous, I’d recommend a Moscow Mule because it skips the juice for ginger ale. Not for those without spice tolerance.”

Rose crossed herself, her golden crucifix shining on her anxious collarbone. Rose quirked a blonde eyebrow, then smiled, putting her gun down. "Is this Ms. Iktapati good with alcohol?" The strange aswang winked. "You get me, kano." Rose pulled out some cheap Napa Valley wine from her backpack, and she and the aswang took sips. It wasn't like postdocs were loaded. Still, it was a good vintage - it had been a good year for rain. Dry, dusty, the grass brown. Then, suddenly, green under California stars.

Vincent looked slightly horrified when we walked in, but he didn't complain. We found a booth in the back. I ordered a beer, Olivia got a vodka tonic, and Vincent, after studying the menu for what felt like ten minutes, ordered something called a Sazerac that I'd never heard of. "Of course you drink cocktails with names I can't pronounce," I said. "It's a classic New Orleans cocktail," Vincent replied. "Rye whiskey, absinthe, sugar, and Peychaud's bitters." "Show-off," Olivia muttered, but she was smiling.

I took a sip from my drink, and I immediately tasted the delicious mixture of vermouth rosso, campari and gin. "Whooa !!" The guests shouted again when the newlyweds accepted their request for a kiss. My jaw clenched and held the negroni glass tightly. The scene was stressing me out! Too painful in the eyes, especially in my heart. Why did I even go to this wedding? Annoyed, I drank the rest of my glass, and when the waiter passed by again, I took another serve of wine.

the man named Henry said as he took the cover, revealing a wine glass filled with thick, red liquid. How Henry addressed him made it obvious that he was working under his wing. Then does it mean that this man who saved me is not just powerful but also influential? "Drink this," the man demanded as he gave me the glass with red liquid, which I'm sure is blood. I thought like before, I wouldn't like the smell of the blood, but I was surprised when the glass was brought closer to me, a very luscious smell took over my senses and everything I could think of was the burning sensation in my throat. I felt incredibly thirsty. I was sure it wasn't thirst for water, though. It was the kind of thirst