Rumah Oren Novels & Stories

Rome, a friend of mine, keeps a variety of automobiles, including the one he uses for racing, in the garage of their house. I simply shrugged and followed Shoan inside. They stopped talking as soon as the two of us entered, and I felt that everyone was looking at us. I turned to face them with a bashful grin. I was shocked to see Niro and his friends sitting on the couch. Why are they here? Is the rental home still the main topic here? Please don't tell me they'll live there. "We have a visitor, so I'm glad you're here already, Doni," Val stated, but I just rolled my eyes.

The light coming through the windows had turned orange and the shadows in the house were moving in ways that shadows shouldn't move, shifting and flickering like the light outside was coming from fire instead of sun. Maren came back with her arms full and shoved everything into the bag and pulled the drawstring tight and looked around the kitchen one more time. Her eyes landed on the blue door, the one Corwin had painted the color of the sky before dark, and I saw her throat move as she swallowed. "Let's go," she said.

The safe house was not what I expected. Nestled deep in the Adirondacks, it was a modern fortress of glass and steel, but the room he led me to was a precise, chilling replica. My mother’s sunroom. Every detail was there: the pattern of the Riviera-inspired tiles, the specific shape of the wrought-iron furniture, the exact pale yellow of the curtains filtering the afternoon light. Even the potted olive tree in the corner was a perfect copy. It was a beautiful, grotesque violation.

Raven asked, leaning between the front two seats. “I don’t know,” I said. “She said I’d see when I got home.” “What the hell?” Tony mumbled. I had no clue, but as we came to the end of the driveway and into the clearing, all of our questions were answered all at once. Our house was pink. Bright flamingo pink. Every inch of it, from the bottom pieces of siding to the tiles on the were the same color as those ridiculous flamingos older people, mostly those who live in Florida, like to put in their yard. I could hardly believe what I was looking at.

“Our guy's name is Orion and his workshop just so happens to be located in the Neutral Zone.” I inhaled sharply and managed to hold back from smacking him for not telling me this tidbit earlier. “At least we know we're on the right track.” ** “Are you sure about this?” I glanced from the map on Ron's phone to the looming house before us. Like most of the houses on this nondescript street that Ron's pinging map had led us to, it was grey and looked like it had seen better days. “This is the place I was told to come to.” He spoke assuredly but I saw on his face traces of doubt and groaned.

Oren chimed in, trying to ease my nerves. "As if we would get a chance. Maybe after tonight's festivities are over, we can." I offered. "I mean, I wouldn't mind waiting until after." Oren's tone was becoming husky. "You dirty dog." I scolded. "Excuse me, but I am not a dirty dog. I'm a hungry wolf, and our mate just happens to know how to satisfy that hunger." "He does." I mused, earning a snicker from Oren. "Now look who's dirty-minded." She teased.

It was almost midnight when Elora, Caspian, and Brittany arrived at the big house with a very high iron fence. Brittany opened the window and waved over the railing to a camera, watching them. The black gate opened a moment later. It increasingly convinced Elora that werewolves did like living in the suburbs, had super large houses, and hated light. This big house is an example. The light along the driveway that cuts through the courtyard was only a faint orange glow. Up ahead, a classic European-style three-story house stands tall, complete with a crystal chandelier hanging on the terrace.

We can't play dress up anymore and we can't cuddle anymore. I reached his bedroom, well, our bedroom and opened the door, stepping into the all red bedroom. The room was a stark contrast to the rest of the house where everything was a neutral white with black design pieces to make the home appear more modern. Oden and I's bedroom was one of the bigger bedrooms, but it didn't feel that way because of the dark red on the walls. The walls were painted in a deep dark red that gave off an eerie feel, his round platform bed sat in the centre of the room and the sheets as well, were a dark red silk. The floor was the only thing that wasn't red, because it was black marble and cold. That's why Oden

“Rafe didn't know that I was from here. If he had finally found where my father lived, Rafe wouldn't have found you here because we would have been out of here by the time Rafe got here." "So where are you taking me to?" "We'll talk about it inside. Come on down." Wren unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of his car to retrieve the spare key kept by his neighbor, Ms. Marris, under the pot. Meanwhile, Lexie was still standing where she was. She slowly unbuckled her seatbelt as her eyes focused on the surroundings. Wren's father's house was on a plot of land surrounded by a wire fence now lined with vines. The two-story house has shades of brown and red because it was built using red bricks and

As soon as Orenda’s ‘brother’ takes off – no doubt to see to patrols – I transport myself into Orenda’s bedroom and find myself momentarily thrown, not by the overpowering scent coating every inch of this room but by the aesthetic. Everything about this creature is about light and colour. Their home from what I observed through the ridiculous number of windows is bright and open. Predominantly white with contrasts of earthy tones and accents of black. It radiated warmth, the natural opposite of my coldness. But I find myself thrown and confused by how vastly different her room is from the rest of the house. It’s dark and I mean the colour not the absence of light. Almost storm-like. It’s mos