Wilted Flowers Book Novels & Stories

Hello Readers, I wanted to thank all of you that read The Alpha's Flower it is the first story I have written. Thanks for all of your comments and support. Please check out my other two stories The Human Mated to Three and The Players Love. One last thing I will be making more books for different characters in The Alpha's Flower. Kate and the Red Moon Twin Alphas, Jason and Deserae, and Derek and Rose's triplets will be coming soon. Violet will have her own book, while Derek Jr and Blake will have one as well. I appreciate each and everyone of you

Lila came within minutes. Her scream was muffled but raw as her pussy clenched violently around the growing vine. Clear fluid squirted around the thick intrusion, soaking Elowen’s thighs and the wooden frame beneath her. The plant drank greedily every pulse of her orgasm feeding it, making the vine swell thicker, the thrusts harder, the suction on her clit stronger. Elowen leaned in and kissed Lila’s tear-streaked cheek with petal-soft lips. “That’s only the beginning, my sweet fertilizer,” she whispered. “By morning, this vine will have grown deep enough to reach your womb. And the flowers it blooms will be the most exquisite I have ever created.”

This was the perfect distraction, but now that it was over, the thoughts of earlier slammed into my brain. “Something happened earlier…” I whispered. He kissed the top of my head gently and his fingers traced my spine. “What is it?” He asked, sleepily. “I was walking home, and I saw a flower that wilted,” I told him slowly. “I stopped to look at the flower, feeling sorry for it.” “You felt sorry for a wilted flower?” He asked and I could hear the smile in his voice. I lifted my head so I could look at him as I nodded.

Sliding a finger to the pages, she lifts, and the book falls open on. Flowers? Yes, pressed flowers; dainty, delicate their colours faded, but recognisable as violets. Chad leans forward, looking close. "Are those what I think they are?" Her gaze flickers back between me and Michael. "Yes, they're the ones you gave me, that first day." She lifts them free from the page, sliding a fingernail under to ease them from the paper. "Chad and I were still at school. He picked them for me, from the hedgerow. Mrs Collier showed me how to keep them."

it's resembles my situation , where this world is a garden ; And I at the other end , just a "LONELY FLOWER" . Just I was thinking about that , A butterfly with blue and black wings landed on the single daisy flower . "It's seems, it's not alone anymore". I also wish for a butterfly who'll make me a party of this world. Ah ,I feel like crying. "My lady , we shall head back inside. it's windy outside". we went inside and I started to write a novel , to divert my attention from crying. Though I said that , I can't stop myself , my tears are running to my cheeks and feel in my writings .

A far cry from the Layla who once flinched at every reflection. The folded note still sat at the edge of my vanity. The one he’d sent last week with that pressed flower. I unfolded it, letting the words sink in again. “You remind me of things that grow in unlikely places—resilient, breathtaking, persistent in their blooming. If I’ve done nothing else right, I hope I’ve helped you remember that you are a force of nature, Layla Brooks.” I read it twice. Then again. And for the first time, I didn’t just wonder who he was.

Only he doesn't; he keeps on walking out of the door and along the corridor. My grapes have also gone. The stalks look like dead trees on a crumpled brown-paper plain. Beside them, a basket of flowers has started to wilt. The begonias and tulips are losing their petals like fat fan dancers, dusting the top of the table with pollen. A small white card embossed with a silver scroll is wedged between the stems. I can't read the message.

But I hesitate when my eyes catch a splotch of color on the ground under my hands that hadn't been there when I sat down. There were flowers, tiny blue ones with white middles, blossoming from where my hands had been. I could see the outline of my fingertips, in fact, but no palm or thumb. I look at my hand, which has loose blades of grass stuck to it. I look at the other side of me, but there are no flowers on that side where my hand had been. The only difference between my hands were I used one to wipe my tears. I leaned down a little and stared at the flowers that continued to slowly creep up from the ground. They were very small; their circumference wasn't even that of a dime. Looked lik

I put it to my right as I murmured “I’d start with you.” Just like the first 2, the other books were about plants and flowers, the 3rd had lillies on the cover and again I smiled as I recalled touching them few days ago in the garden. All in all they were 5 books and the 4th was about pest control and all about how to care for plants and flowers, how and when to water each one, which of them requires much sunlight and which doesn't. The final book was like a diary, its cover, thick and brown, my name scribbled on it in italics handwriting and I had no doubt it was Davos who did it and my grin spread wider as I saw a note stuck to the book.

Evangeline was spinning in circles with anxiety, frantically dialing more floral suppliers. But at this hour, most calls either went unanswered or couldn't get through. Anathea stared at the white roses in the clear glass vase. Their petals were already starting to wilt. She would need to add flower nutrients if she wanted them to bloom back to life. Sighing, Anathea said, "Forget it. That's enough for tonight." "What?" Evangeline froze in place. Lena also looked confused. "It's late. No matter how anxious we get, it won't help right now. We should rest. Good night." Anathea stood up and went into her room.