White Lily Cookie Novels & Stories

“What if I was actually pregnant but wanted to hide it?” Without missing a beat, Luna says, “That’s easy. Just take half the pill.” I nod. “Got it.” Reaching for one of Eli’s cookies, I’m halfway to my mouth before— Smack. The cookie flies from my hand and lands on the floor. “What the? Luna!” She picks it up and drops it into a small bowl of yellow liquid. Immediately, the cookie turns pitch black. My eyes widen. “I told you not to eat anything,” she says sharply. “Where did you get this?”

I blurted out. “White Lotus pearl weed? What is that?” Lily's voice cracked up, and everyone in the crowd began whispering. “White Lotus Pearl weed? Isn't it the rarest herb that grows only once in a century? It is said that it can revive the dead.” As soon as these words escaped through one of the elders’ lips, all the Omegas and their mates rushed to get a glimpse of it. Their eyes flashed with jealousy and greed. Among them, Lily was the one who looked the unhappiest.

“Nice to meet you too.” “Since I’m meeting you for the first time I got you something.” Lily’s eyes lit up at his words. Ethan brought out an extra pack of chocolate cookies, handing them to Lily. “Your mom told me you love chocolates.” “Thank you, Mr. Ethan,” she beamed. I sighed, unable to fight the small smile tugging at my lips. Lily opened up the cookies eagerly, but I gently tapped her hand. “Ah, ah, young lady. No cookies till you’ve eaten real food first.”

Klara sighed walking towards the lilies. The flower bed has all kinds of lilies including her favourite Madonna lilies. Her pseudonym 'White flower' was derived from these, in memory of Julia and her past. Looking at them made her feel refreshed and she kind of missed painting so much. It's been almost a month since she made new painting and didn't know what happened to the one she painted before getting kidnapped.

She was a glutton for sweets. Lily ordered slices of Tiramisu, Red Velvet Cake, Birthday Cake, Carrot Cake, and Italian Cream cake. She took her time enjoying each slice. Garrett reached the cake shop a few minutes after Lily sat down to eat the slices. He could not help but laugh when he saw her through the windowpane.

I said. I could hear the soft crisp laughter from across the phone. "No problem. I'll still tell you anything." An hour later, I had made more lemon crinkle cookies than I expected. Rose, Jasmine and Violet had just gone through a series of nosebleeds almost simultaneously, so I made the cookies to make them feel better. They ate their fill, but there were still two jars left over. Gloria refused to eat more, suggesting I take the rest of the cookies to the packhouse. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to share.

But that’s what is happening to me now. It’s been two years, and I’ve not been touched by a man. My rose vibrator is not doing the work. Letting go of his hands too quickly, I pushed the plate to his mother to taste first. “Please go ahead and taste. Mrs. Whitfield.” “Okay, dear,”. She first tastes the almond shortbread cookies. “It tastes so good, girl!” she exclaimed. “Not too much sugar, just right. I love it.” “Go ahead, son, taste these.” She tells him while switching to taste the meringue tartlets.

There was no one to impress, no one who would notice or care. The lock on my door clicked; a sound so familiar I could distinguish it from all other basement noises, and Lily slipped inside, her face flushed with exertion and something else. Excitement, perhaps. It looked strange on her face; we'd both learned to keep our expressions neutral, our emotions hidden deep where they couldn't be used against us. "Quick," she whispered, producing a small, misshapen object from beneath her shirt. "Before anyone sees." I recognized it as a cake only by the single candle stuck into its center. It was lopsided and frosted unevenly, clearly pilfered in pieces and reassembled in secret.

From my seated position, the cookies are at perfect eye level, and against my better judgment, I pick one off the top of the pile. It's dark brown and brittle. A few pieces flick off as I lower the cookie closer to the small plate my cup of coffee sits on. Burnt doesn't begin to describe the abomination in my hand. It looks like she put the cookie through torture. "What kind are they?" I ask before bringing the cookie to my lips. "Chocolate chip." Tabitha grins, looking down at the plate. "They're a little burnt." A little burnt is an understatement. That's like saying the Titanic nudged an icicle.

These are dark chocolate cookies with macadamia nuts. I blinked. What the hell? She's even stranger than she was on the first day.