The Black Rose Novels & Stories

or maybe not. Then I noticed something on the bench beside me. A single black rose. I've never seen a black rose before. It's beautiful,rare and unique. I wonder who gave it to me. I looked around, but there was no one in sight. Not a single soul. Just the rose... and the strange chill that came with it. I blinked. It hadn't been there before. Had it? It was delicate and dark, almost unreal. Like something out of a dream or a warning.

She’s sitting at her desk with her laptop open, looking worried and tired like she didn’t sleep well either. “I’ve been thinking about that letter all night,” I tell her as I get out of bed. “Me too,” Cassie replies without looking away from her computer screen. “Actually, I stayed up late doing some research about black roses.” “What did you find out?” I ask, though I’m not sure I really want to know. Cassie turns to face me with a serious expression. “Black roses have a really dark symbolic meaning. They usually represent death, endings, or revenge. Sometimes they’re used to threaten someone or to say that something bad is going to happen to them.”

Shortly after inhaling a deep breath, Melpomene expressed and never did her words break Liam's smile. "She is the Black Rose. The woman is bound to keep you under her wing." Liam spoke and informed Melpomene who did not seem to be agreeing with his words. She looked down for a while and then threw his eyes back at Liam again. "The Black Rose isn't who she says she is. What if I told you her biggest secret?" Releasing her hands from Liam's hands, Melpomene spat, her smile slowly dwindling as she spoke.

Rose White an 18 years old innocent flawless beauty who started loving someone all her life even before knowing what is LOVE. Unfortunately she doesn't know by then the man who is her world is not her soulmate but the man who is going to tear her soul apart by scattering her heart into million pieces which can never be repaired. Alexander Black an 26 year old arrogant ruthless billionaire heir whose ways of dealing with his enemies will make them fear him even in their next birth. Love such a wonderful emotion which can fill ones life with colorful dreams but at the same if it's not valued it can haunt you till eternity.

Marco drove into the gates of La Rosa Nera. The club's neon lights cast an eerie shadow over everything they touched. The club's pathway was a spectacle to behold. An archway adorned with beautiful black roses that resonated with the name of the club, La Rosa Nera (The Black Rose). The petals of these gorgeous flowers glittered and danced under the night sky. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and a fading sensation of danger that lingered.

It's the mate bond. I walked over and stood over Mason. He looked up at me and growled. "Growl all you want, Mason. You're pathetic." I spat at him. As I started walking away, he grabbed my ankle, making me fall and hit my head on a rock. I blacked out. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He raised his head to look at her, like he was surprised to see her there. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She’d asked as she tried to pry open his fist. He’d let her, opened it up easily and let her take the rose from his now bloody palm, the flower fell to the floor. “Shit!” She exclaimed as pulled up the hem of her oversized t-shirt and proceeded to clean the blood from his palm. “Are you insane?” she whipped her head up to look at him “Why would you hold a rose that way, didn’t you ever learn that you have to avoid the thorns?”

Like I had the power of life and death. The third one, however, I did not allow to burn entirely but only the edge of the petals. Half red and half black. Roses on fire. Suddenly, I let out a hysterical laugh until my cousin walked into the office, perhaps brought on by the smell or even my outbursts. “What the hell are you doing, Rick?” “Killing them!” I replied, keeping my fanatical grin on my face. “Killing roses…” he repeated as he approached. “You okay, bro?”

The air was thick with smoke and the scent of blood. I was in the courtyard. A crowd surrounded me, watching in grim silence as the drama unfolded. At the center stood the king. And before him—Nyxara, bound and kneeling. “Nyxara of the Black Rose clan,” his voice boomed, echoing off the stone walls, “you have betrayed your king, your pack. You have conspired with a rogue to destroy this kingdom.” Black rose? Did he just say black rose? It couldn’t be a coincidence right? The black dress, black rose petals. And now, the name of their pack is the same?

She yelled. I sat back, my head ringing with a touch of madness. Black roses. A dead cat. The same exact things that had happened to me. My mouth went dry. "Zara, what did the roses look like exactly?" "What do you mean what did they look like? They were black roses, Aria. Dead, withered, horrible black roses with a note that said 'You're next.'" My flowers had been fresh roses. Did the difference in our roses make a difference?