Lavender House Novels & Stories

I opened the fridge to see one can of soda, leftover rice that looks questionable, and half-used tomato paste. I slammed the fridge door shut, falling face-flat onto bed. I picked up my phone, scrolling through job offers. Nanny with live-in creeps- I’ll pass. Diner shifts that I'd break my back for pennies. I was about to shut my phone off when one offer stopped me cold. LIVE IN HOUSE KEEPER WANTED. Full room, a weekly payment of a thousand dollars. discretion required. EMPLOYER: Levi Slate. LOCATION: Private Estate.

“Take what you need.” It’s not permission, exactly. But it’s the closest thing to tenderness I’ve heard from him in a long time. I turn away before my eyes betray me. I find Tessa first because Tessa is always where life is happening. Her family’s house smells like baked bread and lavender soap, and the front door is open because Mrs. Hale believes closed doors “invite gloom.” Tessa is on the porch steps, half braiding her hair while arguing cheerfully with her little brother about whether wolves can get hiccups.

In addition to her love for tradition, she had a thing for flowers and it told in the varieties of vases scattered in the office, there was more lavender, its petals bathing under the sun coming from the window. Jemi smiled at the woman, who was in her early fifties but didn't look a day past thirty, she always had a bright smile, giving many lures to her already beautiful eyes..her skin a dark shade of coffee brown, maybe it was the comfort that Jemi always knew came with her but she was perfect. She sat on a chair, and Jemi sat on the other, the table between them. "Laura said you liked lavenders," she feigned annoyance "turned down my order for lilies "

The perfect house to start a family. Stark white walls were something I have always searched for in a home. The steel stair rails coloured a dark wooden brown brings warmth to the space. The massive atria skylight reflects so much natural light and in the nights the sky is a magnificent view, one can only wish for a star filled evening to leave you in a state of admiration. The place of new beginnings, 27 Great Ambrose Street, a traditional cast-iron loft, the duplex also has oversized windows, original wood-beamed ceilings, contemporary finishes, and views of the surrounding neighbourhoods and all the way down to the World Trade Centre.

“Now it’s your turn. Let’s make you feel better. Please? I don’t know how much longer I can keep Rocky back.” “My mate?” Lavender looks at me wide eyed and holds her palm to her forehead. She grips the doorframe with the other hand. “D-did I hurt him too? I can’t remember.” “You didn’t hurt him.” I take another deep breath and try to ignore the scent of her heat. “The scent of your heat is driving him crazy.” “What?” Zara’s blue eyes flash at me, but pulling Lavender back also pulls back the strength that is protecting her from overheating. Zara’s knees buckle and her eyes roll back.

I learned that whoever this room belonged to was not in it. Had not been in it since before I arrived. The room was maintained in the specific way of a life in storage, present in every object and absent in every quality that made objects into habitation. The cedar smell. The precise arrangement of things. The bed that Lydia changed on schedule not because anyone had slept in it but because the schedule was the schedule. Whoever had said take her to my chambers had not come back to see what they had caught. I told myself this was tactically interesting and nothing else.

Lavender hangs in bunches from hooks driven into the ceiling beams, stems brittle as old wire; when thunder rolls through the walls, the bunches sway and brush against each other with a sound like paper tearing. Isadora’s bare feet press against cold flagstones. She steps around a puddle that has seeped through the floorboards near the far wall, water dark as tea and still as glass. She runs her fingertips along the edge of a shelf, feeling dust gather in the lines of her skin. Her hand moves from jar to jar, pausing when she finds one filled with dark purple flowers that droop from their stems like heavy eyelids. She twists the lid—iron cold against her palm—and lifts it. The scent rises fa

Elodie's brows draw together, a deep frown spreading across her face. “Jerk” she murmurs before entering the front seat. “Lavender mansion, drive” Kendrick instructs, leaning back. He locks eyes with Elodie in the rearview mirror. He's taken aback by the fierce glare on her face. “What?” He asks, surprised by her sudden grimace. “Nothing,” Elodie averts her eyes back to the road, this man has so much pride that he can't even ask politely. What a jerk indeed. The Lavender Mansion is a lush party club invented by and for the wealthy, extravagant spenders. It is the best club in Serenade city and amongst the top three in all of Germany.

After she finished, Livia stepped out again. “It’s ready, Mr. Adrian.” She gave a slight bow, gesturing politely. “Please, go ahead.” Adrian let out a breath. “Add lavender liquid.” “Oh.” Livia nodded and went back in. She looked at the row of bottles and picked the purple one. Reading it slowly, “Lavender…” She dropped a little. “One… two… three…” Then stopped. “Is that enough?” Adrian looked at her flatly. “Where is your logic? That much water and only three drops?”

“Are you kidding me?” “Pass me the lavender.” I searched down the rows of flower beds until I came to the Lavender. “What do Lavenders do?” “Back in the old days, people used lavender in baking, embalming, relieving pain and for its fragrance.” “And who is all these for?” “Some witch that keeps breathing down my neck but she pays.” She stood, shaking the last bottle that puffed with purple smoke. “Speak of the devil and she appears.” “Hello, Mama.” A girl walks in with purple hair and a lollipop in mouth. She sounded out of breath but looked ready to run a mile. “I came to pick up my stuff. Who is this?”