Novel & Cerita Rumah Oren

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.

The room that was once occupied by the former party girl and Casey was converted into a shrine with people leaving flowers, gifts and messages. Lena was one of those who’d stayed behind, though she ended up moving to a room that had two beds as Dawn was pretty insistent in being roommates. Even though the Hook Man was gone or at least Mathew Drummond’s version, the blackette didn’t feel right about having Lena stay in a room at the house all by herself. “Still reading that book?” Dawn remarked when she wandered into the room one day after class to see the first Harry Potter book in the brunette’s hands.

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.

Orion felt sorry for the guy, but not enough to put a stop to what they had to do. The house itself was a two story, long building made of gray concrete and glass. It was as if a skyscraper architect had decided to make a home. Even the windows had that same reflective sheen. Which meant they wouldn't need to worry about eyes on the street or in the garden watching them. "Bye," Milan said over her shoulder with a finger wiggle.

"This is going to be fun. I love this place." After finding the perfect spot to hide the car, Burnett entered manor. He was carrying a medium-sized backpack where he put all that he has, and three plastic bags with his food supply, and medicines. As expected, everything inside the manor are covered in dust, and spider-web. Fortunately, the entire house was made of oak wood. The floorings, and the walls are still intact. Burnett was pleased because he finally found the perfect place to live. ------------------------------

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

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

I guessed none of this was new to him so he wasn't at all fascinated by it. By the third evening the trees opened completely. We stepped into a clearing, and there it was. Renn’s “small house” stood before us the only thing was, Renn’s “small house” was anything but “small.” Damn, it was a fr**king mansion. It was two stories tall, with wide windows, a wraparound porch, and a yard that was so big, it merged back into the trees. The paint was faded and the shutters needed fixing, but it was very much still okay. It was far bigger than any of us had imagined.

“Now that sounds like home.” Serenya stepped off the porch, Orien at her side, his stride longer and more deliberate than the wolves around them. The packhouse smelled of fresh bread, roasting meat, and a hint of herbs from the omegas’ kitchen experiments. She could hear the low murmur of conversation, the occasional bark, and even laughter—a melody she hadn’t realized she’d missed. Orien’s gaze flicked nervously from one group of wolves to another. “So…this is your pack,” he murmured, voice low, almost reverent. “They…they just live like this?”

She pulled out two bottles of Coca–cola and shut the fridge before turning back to toss one into Ori's hands, of which she had trouble catching. They grabbed their meals and headed for the living room. While Emerald had the decency to place hers in a tray with some cutlery and a glass cup, Oriana didn't bother with any of those as she tried to balance the dishes in her short arms before settling on the bright orange bean bag, which was completely contrasting the colour theme of the house, much to Emerald's dismay. It was the only thing sticking out like a sore thumb in the living room other than the red couches, grey walls and black furniture because Oriana hadn't wanted to live in such gloo