Violet Thorn Novelas e Histórias

There may be a few words to anyone but him; he knew the consequences of defying those words, so he would do his best to stay on his father's good side. Violet sat silently looking at herself in the large mirror mounted on the wall, as she had done every day for the past twenty years. She traced the peach flowers tattoo on her cheek that ran across her throat to her left breast with her right hand fingers. The moment that mark appeared on her, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. When it came out, her mentor told her it was a blessing of life. Anne appeared at that precise moment, carrying a tray containing her jewelry. She combed her hair first with a jade comb she had received

“You don’t remember? Oh, I was afraid of that. Ash and I drove you home. On the way here, you said some things.” Thea grimaced. “God, don’t tell me. Whatever it was, I’m sorry. I should never have drunk that much. I’ll be nursing this hangover for weeks, I swear.” Violet nibbled on her bottom lip. With her blond hair and creamy skin, Violet looked like a model most days. It didn’t help that she was tall and always well-dressed. Today she wore simple silver hoop earrings that Thea was sure Violet had made herself. Violet ran her own jewelry business, making every piece herself by hand, and had within the last year caught the notice of some major designers.

After Darius tortured Violet mercilessly, he embraced her in his tender embrace. Violet opened her eyes with her heart beating fast in fear. Her hands were trembling and cold. She sat up slowly and looked at Darius who was sleeping. She kept telling herself not to be afraid. She had to kill him. She shifted her gaze from his face to her pillow and she took the wood carving in the shape of a violet flower that she had placed under the pillow earlier. She held it tightly in her trembling hands as she breathed in fright. She then stabbed the flower stalk into his neck.

Leila checked the time on her wristwatch for the sixth time that morning. She moaned as she slumped against the car seat; it was nearly nine o'clock, the first period would have ended, and she would have already missed her Chemical techniques test. She used to be a straight-A student in junior year, but her grades began to slip as she entered senior year. Ms. Annabeth, the chemical techniques tutor, was the only teacher who seemed genuinely concerned about this and took the time to talk to her. She'd promised her that she'd work on herself and try harder to read, but now she'd not even been on time to take her test!

After a few seconds, they both parted and breathed heavily. "Now be a good girl, and let me pluck that fu-lip... I mean pluck that thorn out. I am sorry but it will hurt." He said and she nodded. He focussed on her damage and after a few seconds of observing, he yanked out the thorn. Irina let out a scream due to the searing pain through her body. "You are looking like a tomato. Your ears and cheeks are red. Wait are you blushing?" He said and chuckled.

He replies to my mind with an image of a thumbs up emoji. I launch myself on top of my maker. In an attempt to halt him. The longer I'm in his presence, the more obedient my mark grows and betrays me. I'm trying to hit, bite and even scratch him. The mark is spreading over him shielding my attacks. He continues walking with me on his back. We stop in front of Arlo and Helena trying to make their escape. Arlo steps in front of her but Thorne grabs his throat and throws him away. I pry myself from his back and step in front of Him. His eyes are red and snake like.

“Is that the game you wanted to play with us, Violet? The game Thorne taught you?” “Yes,” Little Violet nodded eagerly. “The two of your hearts are so good and so perfect to feed darkness, it makes me happy!” She began to giggle. “Thorne says one of my friends has one of the darkest souls he has ever seen, but his daddy is willing to try all options. The more options, the better. That’s what his daddy always says.” My heart stumbled. None of this made sense. She feared Thorne, but she also seemed to like him. It was as if his darkness had confused her little mind, because this wasn’t her. This wasn’t us.

“Yes, you guessed right. I am Elara Thornfield. I am also a Ghost. And anyone who learns this secret has no right to live in this world.” She stood up, eyes blazing. “Xander Hawke, you touched my sister with this hand, right? You stared at her with those filthy eyes and dared to speak about her with that dirty mouth of yours. Sophia makes it clean. Cut off his hands, take out his eyes, rip out his tongue, and destroy his pride. Leave him on the streets to rot.” She turned to Mr. Hawke. “You will die in the worst way possible. Pray that your younger son is wiser than you and runs the company better. Because you won’t live to see it.”

She knew something. “Mira,” she said. “What do you mean by ‘Why would the priestess say something like that?” She shook her head like she was trying to make sense of the whole thing. “The sores could be cured with cloves and a few wild flowers. And there was no such thing as avoiding each other. Violet’s powers were obviously fighting against that.” “And that was why she was constantly weak. She was subconsciously fighting. There's just a bit of it left. And now you hate her again.” She said the last statement like it was a fact.