The Black Rose Novels & Stories

Rose White an 18 years old innocent flawless beauty who started loving someone all her life even before knowing what is LOVE. Unfortunately she doesn't know by then the man who is her world is not her soulmate but the man who is going to tear her soul apart by scattering her heart into million pieces which can never be repaired. Alexander Black an 26 year old arrogant ruthless billionaire heir whose ways of dealing with his enemies will make them fear him even in their next birth. Love such a wonderful emotion which can fill ones life with colorful dreams but at the same if it's not valued it can haunt you till eternity.

Marco drove into the gates of La Rosa Nera. The club's neon lights cast an eerie shadow over everything they touched. The club's pathway was a spectacle to behold. An archway adorned with beautiful black roses that resonated with the name of the club, La Rosa Nera (The Black Rose). The petals of these gorgeous flowers glittered and danced under the night sky. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and a fading sensation of danger that lingered.

It's the mate bond. I walked over and stood over Mason. He looked up at me and growled. "Growl all you want, Mason. You're pathetic." I spat at him. As I started walking away, he grabbed my ankle, making me fall and hit my head on a rock. I blacked out. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He raised his head to look at her, like he was surprised to see her there. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She’d asked as she tried to pry open his fist. He’d let her, opened it up easily and let her take the rose from his now bloody palm, the flower fell to the floor. “Shit!” She exclaimed as pulled up the hem of her oversized t-shirt and proceeded to clean the blood from his palm. “Are you insane?” she whipped her head up to look at him “Why would you hold a rose that way, didn’t you ever learn that you have to avoid the thorns?”

Like I had the power of life and death. The third one, however, I did not allow to burn entirely but only the edge of the petals. Half red and half black. Roses on fire. Suddenly, I let out a hysterical laugh until my cousin walked into the office, perhaps brought on by the smell or even my outbursts. “What the hell are you doing, Rick?” “Killing them!” I replied, keeping my fanatical grin on my face. “Killing roses…” he repeated as he approached. “You okay, bro?”

The air was thick with smoke and the scent of blood. I was in the courtyard. A crowd surrounded me, watching in grim silence as the drama unfolded. At the center stood the king. And before him—Nyxara, bound and kneeling. “Nyxara of the Black Rose clan,” his voice boomed, echoing off the stone walls, “you have betrayed your king, your pack. You have conspired with a rogue to destroy this kingdom.” Black rose? Did he just say black rose? It couldn’t be a coincidence right? The black dress, black rose petals. And now, the name of their pack is the same?

Rose chuckled to herself at that thought, it would have to be one hell of a man. Arriving at the academy Rose saw Madame Blanchard talking with another lady by the main courtyard, this must be Madame Gruage. She was shocked to see this lady in what... breeches?! They made her look slimmer and showed off her shape more than any imagination needed. She had long raven black hair braided down her back and wore a blouse tucked into her pant-breeches with what looked like riding boots. Instantly Rose reconsidered her choice of attire, she was not at all dressed for riding! Now more nervous than ever, her carriage pulled up to deliver her to whatever awaited with this woman.

I could almost see her a pale woman in a ruined silk dress, fingers bleeding as she pruned her precious blooms. "Why black roses?" I asked. Damien's expression darkened. "Because they don't exist." *Damien, Age 9* The greenhouse smelled of chemicals and damp earth. Young Damien crouched behind potting tables, hands clamped over his ears. The shouting from the house carried even here. A rustle of silk. His mother appeared between the rose bushes, her right eye already swelling shut. She gathered him into arms that trembled like wounded birds. "Look, darling," she whispered, pressing his small hand against a velvety black petal. "Magic."

I smiled. Rose had mud covering her clothes, with splashes of water on her top as well. "You should change your clothes, otherwise you will catch a cold." She nodded with a sheepish smile, "I went to collect water from the river but slipped over the rock and fell." I paused but continued stirring again...the river. "Can you add the final petals and stir this? I have some work to do." Rose looked at me in shock and to my surprise, she shook her head in a no immediately, "I can't do that, you shall always complete your work other..."

I know that seems like a lot, but with about four thousand in the pack, that is small. Rose dresses in slim cut dark heather grey slacks with comfy flats and a silk baby blue boat necked blouse tucked into the front of her pants. She keeps her mark on full display by pulling her soft straight hair into a high stylish ponytail, adds a simple winged eyeliner with mascara on her eyes and nudish pink lip gloss to her plump lips.