Royal Crimson Novels & Stories

She smiled, “her wolf is one that needs a strong human, not just anyone can control Crimson.” My eyes darted to her and then back to the road, “Crimson, as in blood, fire and brimstone, that type of Crimson?” She sat up straight, “why would you think like that and not that it is just the color red.” I shrugged, “Angel remember, I always think that type of stuff first,” I gave her a shy smile. She nodded, “it doesn’t matter, Crimson is gone with her, unless she is now with someone who didn’t have a wolf.”

Nakangiting pagpapaunlak ko at inalalayan si Crimson papasok sa entrance ng venue. ⚘ little ⊹ lies ··································································································································

She leaves as fast as she came. I stare at the dress. My hands shake a little. Sonya sits on the chair by the window. She looks so pale. “I got one too,” she whispers. “Black. Simple.” We do not talk anymore, we just got ready. I put on the red silk. It fits tight and shows too much skin. The collar stays around my neck, a silver cold. Sonya helps with my hair, she makes it into loose waves, adds a little makeup on my face, and gives me red lips. We look pretty, like dolls.

At a lavish Lupo soiree meant to showcase their clout, I was there, representing the Caruso family. Amid a sea of scents and silks, I spotted Anna. Her dress was a relic, ill-fitting, and she trailed behind the pompous Sebastian, who was desperate to rub elbows with the elite. Her face was ghostly, her gaze shy, sticking out like a sore thumb in the glittering crowd. "Principessa Isabella..." Her voice was barely above a whisper, her fingers nervously fidgeting with her skirt. "Thank you for looking out for me in the past. I'm doing well now, and Sebastian is good to me.

The Palace Transformed Back at the palace, preparations had turned the great hall into a vision of splendor. Crimson banners hung from the vaulted ceilings, edged in gold, swaying softly as though they carried their own heartbeat. Tables stretched from one end of the room to the other, draped in white linens embroidered with the royal crest. Moonlilies, roses, and dark ivy cascaded from silver vases, filling the air with fragrance both sweet and sharp. Golden candelabras lined the walls, their flames reflecting off polished marble until the entire hall glowed as though kissed by starlight.

A recognition that lived below thought. The woman's eyes opened fully. Crimson. Not human. Deep glowing red lit from somewhere inside, burning steady and old and alive. Tyra stepped back. "Who are you." "You already know," the woman said. Her voice was warm and cracked at the edges like something that had been through fire and come out the other side. She moved forward, each step soundless on the black soil. Her crimson eyes moved over Tyra's face with a desperation that was almost physical. Like someone who had been kept from something for so long that seeing it again hurt. "You have always known."

"I'm pretty sure if Emperor Nikolas had seen you now, he would have been very proud of you." I laughed and glanced down at my coronation attire— the Supertunica, the long coat of gold silk and embroidered ermine cape that reached my ankles. Its crimson velvet was heavily rimmed with gold and silver threads. My royal surcoat was also woven with intricate lace and the national emblem featuring a double-headed eagle.

Their rich oil deposits and rare Earth minerals had probably had something to do with England’s acquiescence. She held her breath as the prince came into sight, battling the latest surge of nerves. Her first sight of him wasn’t the professional evaluation it should be. Instead, she noticed his lean, toned physique displayed by the tight white tank top he wore. It wasn’t what she would’ve expected from a Prince, but she couldn’t argue that it certainly highlighted how muscular his arms were—which reminded her that she was there to work, not ogle the Prince.

I looked like a dwarf beside him although I am taller than other girls, as I am five feet seven inches. “I am asking what your name is…” he said in his cold tone and I felt stupid in front of him. I thought he was staring at me but he was just waiting for my answer about my name. I breathed out heavily. My rating for delivery will go down from one to zero because he doesn't seem happy with my delivery service. Oh, shit*! “My name is… my name is... Crimson.” There! I gave him my name! I don’t like my name at all. How I wish that the orphanage named me Red or Scarlet and it was much better than Crimson.

"I've noticed as well, that's why we have to repaint the whole room whenever this happens." "You all have heard of this over and over, but this is the curse of the ones that Prince Russel have killed. If he continues to slaughter more people in this room, there would be a time that the blood stains on the walls can't be hidden anymore to expose the cruel nature of the Prince." "Ugh, enough with the damn horror stories. We all know that it's not true." "Hehehe, you're just scared." The workers continued to talk as they fix the Prince's room. Meanwhile, Russel heads to his study to begin the plans for his wedding with Lianne Ronnenberg.