Thorn Between Two Roses Novels & Stories

Yet, I dared to entertain the fantasy of a life of quiet and peace with her and it seemed absolutely glorious. “There they are!” She pointed to the thorn roses she’d spoken about earlier and I truly saw them for what they were, imperfectly beautiful. “You were right, they're the most unique plants in the entire garden,” I told her as we walked toward them. She stretched out her hand to touch them and in a fit of panic that she’d get hurt by the thorns, I pulled her hands back quickly. She chuckled and turned to face me, “It's okay Reid, I know the soft spots where there aren't any thorns” she reassured me gently before she took hold of my hand.

Emma pouted. I stood up taking a closer look at the red roses. They looked deadly. Thorns at the ready to shred any unlucky creature that had the courtesy to fall victim. Deadly yet beautiful. Somehow, even with all the rough jagged edges of the thorns the rose still accepted it as part of itself. “Lovely aren't they?” Eric purred chillingly. I jumped seeing him peer over my shoulder. “Yes. They really are something.” I answered calmly. Fear was starting to set in though. He captured full packs overnight. Not even giving them the chance to wonder what had hit them.

And the blush that was barely receding was back again. "I'm not a pretty little flower, Roses are as pretty as they are dangerous." He scoffed, standing up and even from where he was standing, I could see that he'll tower over me. He straightened out his suit jacket. Eyes boring into mine. "The only dangerous roses are those with thorns Rose, and you my dear, you have no thorns. You're a pretty little flower, a harmless little flower." He walked towards me till he was standing right Infront of me, towering over me as expected, I craned my neck just too look at him. "I'll be taking my leave now pretty flower, say hi to Mr. Potter for me."

Lia began, but I was already through the archway. It was the one underneath my bedroom. Everything about this place shined uniquely. Roses bloomed in neat rows, in colors I’d never seen silver, midnight blue and a golden blush. A tree with long white blossoms arched over a stone bench, its petals fluttering down like snow. I couldn't help myself, I reached out to pick a rose, as I plucked it, a thorn scraped across my finger. I gasped, sucking in a breath as pain flared across my skin.

I looked around to find a note near the vase. #Bribe 2.2: Hope you're still in a good mood after #bribe 2.1. But if not, then these will definitely improve your mood. White rose reminds me a lot of you, y'know. Beautiful to look at, but can make you bleed if you press a wrong button, or wrong part of the stem. XD. Anyways, I'm learning how to prevent it. Hopefully I'll find one without thorns someday. Have a good day, friend. ;)

I whispered to keep us sane. “Do you know why I named you Roses?” I asked her, though my lips cracked with thirst. “Because even in blood and thorns, roses bloom. You will bloom, my little one. Even if I wither.” I vowed with voice cracking. We walked until the night gave way to dawn, a pale smear of light clawing at the sky.

The peace had returned—or so it seemed. The roses swayed gently in the wind, their petals catching the sunlight. But beneath their beauty, thorns waited—sharp and silent, just as the storm continued to gather strength far beyond the Bellandi gates.

“Yes someone died but the culprit will soon be found and everything will go back to normal so you can chill okay?” “I'll be right here.” I ignore him, moving towards the roses. Thorne follows me, walking behind me. ‎I groan, throwing my hands up. “Oh, for Moon’s sake! I’m not going anywhere, Thorne. You don’t have to hover like a guard dog. You can just stand afar.” ‎Thorne doesn’t even look ruffled. He strides beside me, arms folded across that broad chest of his. His golden eyes flicker down at me, cool and sharp. “You can continue your work, I'll stand anywhere I choose.”

“Tell me, Alyssa… are you seducing me—” his finger brushed the stem of the black rose, “—or killing me?” Alyssa leaned in, her lips almost touching his ear. “Why not both?” The rose fell between them, petals soft—thorns sharp. And the war officially began.

The thick paper bent beneath her fingers. Once. Twice. Then she tore it cleanly down the middle. Another tear. Another. Small pieces fluttered into the wastebasket. Her breathing steadied. For exactly three seconds. Her gaze drifted back to the rose. She snatched it from the vase. Her fingers tightened around the stem until a thorn pierced her palm. A sharp sting. A bead of blood surfaced. She stared at it. One white petal caught the crimson drop before it could fall away. The rose slipped from her hand.