Twilight Rosemary Novels & Stories

Leonardo had the information he needed a few minutes later. Rosemary Mantissa, whose real name was Rosemary Gale Mantissa, was released 12 years ago, and she had a rose tattoo on her right back shoulder. Rosemary Gale Mantissa was a cold-blooded husband killer and the wife of the mansion's engineer and builder, Carlos Mantissa. Carlos Mantissa built the house for his beloved wife Rose, but it became the house of hell for them after his wife butchered him like a pig with a kitchen knife and an icepick.

She couldn't even bring herself to break the annoying alarm clock as this one was a customized one. The particular clock had a voice which always started with a sweet voice,"wakie wakie baby.... Rise and shine my queen..." But that was not the only reason, the reason we're never the words...nope... not at all... The reason was the voice... It belonged to Rudra... She still finds it a mystery to solve that how her friend caught a hold of Rudra's voice that too such sweet one... Groaning, she picked up her alarm clock on her nightstand, Sakshi looked at the time and said,

“Numbers. Dates. Nothing I understood.” “Figures.” He sighed. “Come on, walk with me before you hyperventilate.” *** The corridor lights were dimmed for the night, throwing long shadows along tapestried walls. Alonso matched her steps; his shoulder brushed hers, deliberate. “You don’t strike me as the timid type,” he said. “Because I didn’t faint?” “Because your eyes are on fire.” She blinked. “Allergies.” He chuckled, genuine, warm enough to thaw the winter in her bones. Dangerous warmth.

He said and chuckled. "No, Obviously No." She said while rolling her eyes. "Now, let me pluck the thorn out of your back." She continued and observed that a large thorn has punctured his back with a large stem and few petals of a dark red rose similar to black shade. "It's okay darlo. The person should not be afraid of thorns if they crave for roses." He said while Irina plucked out the penetrated stem of a rose. He acted to hiss in a pain.

The night breeze lifted his hair, softening his sharp features. He knelt in front of my tombstone, fingertips brushing its cold surface, eyes full of longing. "Wendy. Rose." He said my name so gently. I hadn't heard him speak like that in a long, long time. He leaned down and kissed the photo etched on my stone. "You've waited long enough, haven't you?" he murmured. "I'm coming to join you." A gentle smile curved his lips. Then, without hesitation, he drove the blade into his chest.

However, before the food was served, the waiter brought over a bouquet of red roses. "This is for Ms. Stafford, sent by one Mr. Pennington in congratulations for the successful art exhibition." Heather did not take the flowers. She told the waiter to send them back. "Tell Mr. Pennington that I don't like red roses." Red roses were Anne's favorite, not hers. She only liked pink ones.

"You're finally back! I was busy doing the dishes, and the mistress went out to grab her coffee like she always does. On her way back, she slipped right by the entrance... Thank goodness for those emergency steps you taught me; I handled it right away, and she's settled down now." "I'm going to see her," Austin said, taking massive strides down the hallway. Tabitha followed at a leisurely pace, her eyes casually tracking the decor along the walls. A vase at the entryway held dried lilies, and a photo of a young Rosemary hung at the end of the hall. In her youth, her features really had carried a stunning, head-turning beauty. Rosemary was propped up in the master bed, the duvet pulled up to

I needed to get my head on straight, but Rose is making my thoughts go wild. Rose exited the gym, her hair down and dressed in the outfit she wore this morning. I could tell from her hair that she hadn't showered, but she didn't need to. She didn't sweat at all today, and she smelled lovely: vanilla and lavender. I breathed deep, drowning in her scent. "You're going to have to stop that." She said, I raised an eyebrow questioningly, unsure what she was referencing. "The hormone-inducing thing you're doing right now, it has to stop."

While it doesn't really bother me because I know I'm gorgeous and do not need anyone to tell me that or otherwise, it is exhausting to stand about and listen to five nitwits whose brains are filled with nothing but the hottest guys in town and high fashion in Vogue spout insults and play tricks on me. I once considered calling them out on their bullshit or even giving one of them a black eye at some point but Ella beat me to it. She's not exactly the most patient person when it comes to dealing with people and she's pretty tough. As the only scholarship students in our year, it's quite easy to identify us as we're required to wear a ‘pride brooch’ as it's called. It's supposed to make us pro