Novelas y relatos de Rosita On The Walking Dead

STARTING FROM CHRIS HUNTER, RAYN STONE, AXEL LOCKWOOD AND THEN ROSALIYA STAVROS. ______________________________________ Rosaliya: I am Rosaliya, Rose for short with my hazel eyes and dark brown hair. I'm currently 22 year's old looking for a job ,I have completed my bussiness studies and lookin for a job. So coming back to the point my current situation is a total mess cause I shifted to new york last week. Now i have to arrange my house over the weekend even look for a job and my besties are nowhere to be seen .

Zora finally let go, and she was reluctant to let me go. I turned back into the room and saw Roberta still lying on the floor, her face white, her lips trembling, her whole body curled up on the floor. "Poor thing, her wolf strength is close to zero, I can't feel her wolf, must be asleep." Dixon spoke, as if he was not talking to me, but just feeling sorry for himself.

“What? No. Please. No. Never do that. Besides, you’re taking this too seriously. It’s just a crush. It’ll wear off. I know it will.” ——— [Rosita] After leaving Vivienne’s place, I drive straight home. I park the car in the garage and enter the house through the backdoor. I pause when I hear the TV on in the living room. Dropping my bag and keys on the table, I quietly make my way toward the noise. When I enter the room, no one’s there. Maybe I left it on in a rush yesterday? Just as the thought crosses my mind, a pair of arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against something solid. I almost scream.

The last thing he saw was the henchmen walking closer to him with sinister smiles on their faces. *** Rosita's head throbbed as she slowly regained consciousness, blinking up at the night sky. As the cool night air touched her skin, she was cold, sweat dried on her skin from the chill air. All the memories from the morning run on an unforgiving reel in her brain—being manhandled by one of Ximena's men, despite her pleas not to be harmed. Sitting up on the cold floor, she stared at the horrific sight unfolding around her. The courtyard was littered with the lifeless bodies of Deangelo's henchmen, being hurriedly dragged toward a roaring fire by Hugo and his men.

Her voice shook, but her spine stayed straight. My hands hovered near her arms but didn’t touch her. “You’re hurt.” “I sewed myself up,” she said flatly. I exhaled. “Bianca?” Her silence was answer enough. I nodded once. Then stepped aside. “Come inside.” Rosa walked past Salvatore’s body sprawled out in the garden under the sun, his blood and brains spattered across the garden. She didn’t look away, didn’t flinch. Her breath caught, just for a second, but she kept walking.

She admits to me, as she lowers her head, before she says, “But none of us our brave enough to stand up to the revolution that is about to happen.” “Revolution?” I asked her, as I moved to the couch, placing my hand on it to steady myself, as not only worry filled me but dread too, knowing what could happen if Uncle Triston loses control not only of this city, but also the vamps. “I’ve said too much.” Rosa says, as she moves towards the door to leave, now in fear that she was the one that had misspoke.

I walked up to him, lowering my voice to a deadly octave. “I swear to God, Henry.” I said, voice hard. “You will rue the day you met me the next time you touch me.” I spun around, noticing how the crowd parted as I walked towards them. Tears rolled down my face, my fingers tightened around the hem of my skirt. “Gotcha!” Lena screamed, jumping on me. The sudden act had me falling on my knees. “Christ, Rosie.” Lena crouched low. “Why'd you just fall like that—”

Her breath hitched, her eyes scanning the whole area for the sight of Freya and Orson. “They must be back.” She muttered, sniffing the air that seemed to carry the familiar scent of her brother. Ryan and Elena strode behind her, gently taking steps with their hearts thumping in their chests. They wanted nothing but for the whole ordeal to end. Freya and Orson needed to be back so their minds would be at rest. When they got inside the pack, their eyes widened, falling on Rosa, who’d slumped to the floor. She was sniffling, her eyes red and shedding tears.

During her escape that day, sheer grit drove her to kill a stray vampire who had tried to ambush her. "You're of white wolf lineage, and your combat instincts are pretty good." As Leon looked at Rosa lying in the snow, still clamping down on the vampire's arm unyieldingly, his eyes filled with admiration. "I don't lack women to warm my bed. What I lack is a Beta I can trust implicitly. Would you be interested in giving it a try?" From then on, she became Leon's Beta. Rosa's sharpening motion grew heavier when she recalled the past. She hissed in pain as she had tugged at the wound on her back that hadn't fully healed from moving too forcefully.

(Torin) I had my people pull the original incident report by six the next morning, the kind of quiet, expensive inquiry that never shows up on anyone's invoice and by nine I was sitting in my office with a file that told me considerably less than I needed and considerably more than I'd expected. Rhoswen Calloway. Presumably drowned at a lake house owned by her godfather, Graham Ashworth, eleven months before Elena Marsh walked into my rooftop party and looked at me like a problem worth solving. Nobody recovered. A funeral is held regardless of the closed casket, the kind of ceremony that exists more for the living than for any certainty about the dead. I read it twice, and both times my mind