Sassy Flower Novels & Stories

She shrank back slightly before forcing herself to look pitiful. "You have no idea how terrible I've been feeling," Lily said weakly. "The only thing keeping me going was thinking about you. Without you here, I didn't even want to take my medicine…" Louis's dark expression eased just a little. Noticing this, Lily pressed a hand to her forehead and leaned toward him as if she was about to faint. Carissa rolled her eyes. Snapping back to his senses, Louis shoved Lily away and coldly said, "We found a badly mutilated body by the lake. Rena is dead. At my and Rena's home, I found your fur. Did you have anything to do with Rena's death?"

Landry POV Landry looks up from his conversation about painting the palace walls just in time to see Bernice take a deep inhale of the most dangerous flower ever. “Shit!” He shouts, racing over. His eyes scan the area, looking for detoxifying berries. This flower is known as an intense aphrodisiac, sending whoever smells it into deep and sometimes incurable lust. Not only would that hurt a normal person, Bernice is already ill, and Landry doesn’t even want to think about how that could hurt her.

Even if I hadn’t found my mate, I’d never call the girl. Before I returned to my car, I hazarded to look into the big window of the shop. Sarael was occupied talking to her customers. A warm smile on her face as she discussed flowers. She’s obviously very passionate about her profession. As she should be given, she owns her own shop. She’s fucking gorgeous, and the way she lights up when she talks about flowers just adds to that beauty.

“Sasha takes them for me. She donates them to a charity I believe unless there is something particularly special about them.” “Special how?” Owen asked. They watched as Seb’s girlfriend, Jacinta, threw herself at him and then shrieked with laughter as he shook his sweaty hair over her before dragging her, protesting, up against him so that she could feel his sweat-wet shirt against her. “Some make them from scratch, or embroider them by hand… All sorts of things. And the flowers, Sasha puts on graves and memorials along the road. She says it keeps her entertained to do so, as well as being more environmentally friendly.”

he said excitedly to the others. The one with black hair closed his eyes, covering the irises that were the same color as the night sky. “She’s here,” he said in a whisper. He turned to the other three, a grin on his face, and continued, “The Moonflower.”

After a brief silence, detective Jones broke the silence and asked "what do you think maria?“ “About what?” “This, of course!” detective Jones said increasing his tone. “Calm down partner. Anyways, I think we're dealing with a nasty serial killer that has an obsession with flowers” Maria joked. “It's not just that. But wait, I think am beginning to get the pieces, according to the woman, a white rose represents chastity and purity,now a blood stain on it would mean what? The chastity or purity have been stained and how is that possible?”

"Her majesty, I saw her in the passage near the Falling River. She was seriously injured and there was a flower with her." "What flower?" Amnisty doesn't answer right away. She and the queen already talked about this situation but they need to do it again to inform Dealla. She sighs before answering. I hate repeating. "It's Peony." "Oh, what a nice flower and it's the favorite of our friend, Amnisty. Right?" "You're right, her majesty." "Since you don't remember your name, darling. How about I'll name you Peony? Is it fine with you?" The queen strokes some strands of Dealla's hair. She puts it behind her ear. The queen stares at Dealla’s face.

The smoke, the fire, the lies—none of it mattered when he looked at her like that. His fingers brushed her cheek, slow and reverent. “I tried to stay away from you,” he said. “But you didn’t.” Their lips met in a crash of heat and confusion, need and fury. Her hands tangled in his hair. His mouth was urgent, devouring, worshipping. The kiss deepened, wild and consuming, like the fire roaring through the mansion. He pinned her against the wall, his hands exploring every inch of her with desperate intensity. She gasped as he kissed down her neck, her collarbone, pushing the fabric of her maid’s uniform aside like it offended him. Their breaths mingled in a haze of lust and smoke.

These flowers reminded her so much of her sweet adoptive mother. "Thank you, Sasha," she managed, her lips curving despite herself. "You can go. I've got it." Sasha smiled and slipped out, closing the door gently. Harper was alone with the flowers and the bag. She exhaled through her nose, half amused and half exasperated. Then she reached for the small envelope tucked among the peonies first. She instantly recognized the handwriting on the card. The message was short, disgustingly sweet, and so painfully Malakai it made her roll her eyes skyward.

he responded, turning to look at her. “That you don’t give a damn.” Lison smirked, agreeing with her remark. There was nothing to worry about. He had the perfect alibi and enough money to tie up any loose ends. He grabbed his phone and called a florist. “I need a bouquet of sunflowers, no note.” Sarah raised an eyebrow, wondering if she had heard correctly. “Who are those flowers for?” “For my favorite depressive,” he mocked. “Libia Musso,” Sarah spat out the name with disgust.