The Rose Trilogy Box Set

by Tish Thawer

  The Rose Trilogy

  Boxed Set

  by

  Tish Thawer

  * * * * *

  The Rose Trilogy Boxed Set:

  Scent of a White Rose

  Roses & Thorns

  Blood of a Red Rose

  Death of a Black Rose

  Published by Amber Leaf Publishing

  Copyright 2011-2013 by Tish Thawer

  All rights reserved

  www.tishthawer.com

  Cover designs by Regina Wamba of Mae I Design and Photography

  Free stock photo of woman courtesy of Marcus Ranum/ranum.com

  Boxed Set design by Emma Michaels

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any use of name brands is done so under the Fair Use act.

  Licensing Note: This Kindle eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and may not be resold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the author's work. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by fines and federal imprisonment.

  Table of Contents

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Scent of a White Rose

  Roses & Thorns

  Blood of a Red Rose

  Death of a Black Rose

  Excerpt from Raven's Breath

  Acknowledgements

  To say "thank you" somehow seems insignificant for the gratitude I feel. So many people encouraged and supported me throughout this journey that is The Rose Trilogy. Only you know the contributions you made, and whether you feel they were small or large...in my eyes, they were all HUGE! Thanks to each and every one of you, my dear friends!

  A special thanks to my family, for without you none of my dreams would come true!

  Scent of a White Rose

  (Book One of The Rose Trilogy)

  Rose’s eye blinks, an idea blooms,

  But who could’ve imagined the impending doom?

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  Wide Awake

  (Rose)

  I opened my eyes and felt death. The presence of it, the weight of it, the sadness of it. I couldn't believe my mom was gone. I thought the weight of it described it best. It felt like a weight on my chest...one that would never get lighter.

  Dad said that we'd be okay. "Time heals everything, Rose," he always told me in that solemn tone of voice. I didn't believe him. How could I, when I could tell that he didn't even believe it himself?

  But honestly, I didn't want time to pass. I just wanted to lay here on my bed, wide awake in my black funeral clothes, and stare at the ceiling. I just wanted to lay here remembering when my mom and I had painted my room and hung those stars and moons. They weren't the stick-on, glow-in-the-dark kind. They were beautiful crystals in all sizes and colors strung from my freshly painted black ceiling. They danced and gleamed just like we had imagined. Well, just like she had imagined. It had been her idea...my mom, the crafty one.

  With a spark of wonder in her voice she'd said, “It will be beautiful and you’ll feel like you’re sleeping under the twinkling stars every night.” I wasn’t convinced. But when we were done, we opened the curtains to let the moonlight flow in, and I was speechless. She’d been right. I'd been amazed as I watched the beautiful little stars and moons twinkle and spin right there in my very own room. God, I love my mom.

  I didn't want time to pass. I wanted it to reverse.

  * * * * *

  (Rose)

  My mom, Loraine Reynolds, was killed in a “freak accident." Someone broke into our house in the dead of night, and when they found my mom coming out of her room, they killed her.

  That doesn’t sound too freaky, right? Your average burglary gone wrong. I guess what made it "freaky," was that the cops were baffled by how she had been killed.

  The only evidence of violence was two small puncture wounds on her neck. At first they thought she’d been stabbed by an ice pick or something, which was strange enough, but then came the really strange part. Her body had been drained of all the blood. See…freaky, right?

  The robbers didn’t take anything. The cops assumed that they must have panicked and left in a hurry. There were no fingerprints or DNA left at the scene, and no trail for them to follow. After receiving nothing but countless apologies, we faced the fact that we were never going to get an explanation as to how or why my mom had been killed.

  It’s now been about six months since the accident. My dad has gone back to work and I’ve gone back to school. My college is only about twenty minutes away, but you’d think it was in a third-world country from the way my dad has been treating me. I understand that he’s freaked. And, I understand that I’m now the only family he has left, which he reminds me of on a daily basis. But damn it, I’m twenty years old, and I’m not a child.

  But, every time I look at him, and I see the sadness in his eyes, and watch the emotions roll across his face, I hold my tongue. Because he’s right; I am the only family he has left. So, if he wants to treat me like I’m ten instead of twenty, that’s okay. If he wants to have one of his company cars take me and pick me up from school, that’s okay. And if he insists that I live with him until I graduate college, that’s okay. But I’ll be damned if he’s going to stop me from seeing Christian.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER TWO

  White Rose

  (Rose)

  “Dad, I just want to go have dinner with some of my friends after school. Why is that such a big deal?” My voice rang with exasperation.

  “Why is that such a big deal? Really, Rose? You have to ask that?” He was clearly just as frustrated as I was. “It’s a big deal because this is a dangerous world and you of all people should understand that. I'm sorry, but I just don’t like the idea of you being out after dark.”

  I tried to smooth my voice into one of an adult filled with compassion. “Dad, it’s been six months. I miss Mom too, and I will never forget what happened to her. But we can’t live our lives in fear.”

  “I’m not living in fear; I’m living in reality. I lost my wife, and I refuse to lose my daughter to the evil of this world, too.” He sounded defeated as he scooted his chair away from the table.

  I knew this was how the conversation would go, but you can’t blame a girl for trying. I really wish he would’ve said yes, because I’m sick of lying and sneaking around. But what am I supposed to do? I can’t just let him drag me down. I want to go on with my life...it’s what my mom would have wanted.

  As I watched my father put his breakfast dish in the sink, place both hands on the counter and hang his head, I knew I couldn’t fight him on this. Just like always...Dad wins.

  Resolved to be the innocent “white Rose” he pictured me to be, I said, “Okay Dad. I’ll be home before sunset. Do you want me to pick something up for dinner or do you want to do it?”

  “Actually, I have a dinner meeting that I have to attend, so just have the driver stop somewhere and get yourself some takeout. And no calling for delivery. I will not have strangers coming to this house, even if it is just to deliver food."

  I started to protest. I was frustrated that he could totally dismiss my plans and insist that I come straight home after school when he wasn’t even going to be there. But then, it dawned on me…this was the perfect opportunity. It looked like I'd be skipping dinner with my friends and opting for a little road trip instead.

  “Okay. I’ll just grab something then, but what time should I expect you home?” I aske
d innocently.

  “Probably around 9 p.m.” He spun around, straightened his shoulders, and plastered a loving smile on his face. “I love you, Rose. Thanks for humoring an old man who cares too much.”

  Well, now I just felt like crap. “You’re welcome Dad. I love you too.”

  As I listened to the front door close, I looked down into the sink and watched our breakfast slide down the drain. White, runny eggs swirling their way down into the dark hole towards the disposal. That was me…a white substance, fading and running like watercolors down a drain into the dark. Man, I wished I didn’t have to lie to him.

  As I climbed into the shower, I realized that not only did I have to figure out how I was going to ditch my driver today, but also how I was going to get a hold of Christian to let him know I was coming down. He always said, “Don’t try to reach me before dark. I’m dead to the world.”

  I knew he slept for most of the day because of his job, but man, it made trying to plan a spontaneous rendezvous a little tricky. Well, that was just it! I wouldn't tell him I was coming down. I’d surprise him.

  Christian worked at a nightclub on the outskirts of town. I’d been there plenty of times, but had never gone in. Not for the obvious reason that I was only twenty, but instead because I was usually occupied with Christian lips, as all of my visits revolved around us making out in his car during his breaks. I remembered the first time I saw him. That was a night I'd never forget.

  My dad had arranged for my friends and I to be driven in one of his company limos to a concert in Masen, the big city that's about two hours away. We didn’t have a curfew, but we were expected to stay with the staff that came with the car. I saw it for the compromise it was; he was letting me go, but with supervision. I guess he’d always been protective, even before Mom’s death.

  After the concert, we were driving back into town when Jillian loudly announced that she had to use the restroom. The only place around was the nightclub just up the road. It was called “The Rising Pit.” I think it had some sort of dance floor in the middle that went up and down using hydraulics. I had never been there, but a few friends of mine had gone and said it was very cool.

  Once we reached the nightclub, Jill bounced out of the limo, accompanied by one of the “car crew” as we had taken to calling them, thanked the driver for stopping, and proceeded to make a beeline to the club's front door.

  Jill disappeared behind the door, and as I watched it swing shut, a man stepped outside carrying a girl in his arms. I watched from the car as he placed her on her feet, steadying her before letting go. I could tell that she was crying. He was talking to her in what looked like a very gentle manner. She rubbed the tears from her cheeks and then she nodded her head in a “yes” motion. The guy smiled, and I thought I was going to die.

  Right then the clouds broke, and he looked like an angel bathed in moonlight. He was so gorgeous. He had to be about 6’ 2”, and solid muscle from the looks of him. Not bulky like those beefed-up body builders, but very athletic. Wide shoulders, broad chest, thin waist, and what I was sure would be strong, muscled legs. With the moonlight shining on him, I could see he had dark blonde hair with golden highlights, cut short and sharp. I hadn’t realized that I was half hanging out the open window of the limo, when he suddenly turned and looked right at me. My breath caught, and I thought I would die…again!

  His eyes were so beautiful and so mesmerizing. The intensity of his gaze was piercing. They were an amber color, a rich brown with golden highlights, mixing together like swirled caramel and honey. He was easily the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

  Right then Jill came barreling out of the nightclub with her escort closely in tow. She was saying something like, “I only wanted a quick shot,” and the rest of us started laughing from the car. As she started to walk past the beautiful man, he reached out and tapped her gently on the shoulder. She stopped and he started speaking to her. She kept glancing at the car and then back to him with a huge smile on her face. After a brief moment, he handed her something, then disappeared back inside.

  I was so anxious to see what this impossibly gorgeous guy had said to my friend. I was sure it had to do with her only using the facilities instead of being a paying customer or something along those lines, as it was obvious that he worked there.

  When Jill got in the car, she sat there for a moment with a “cat-ate-the-mouse” grin on her face. Then she handed me a business card. It was shiny and smooth and had the nightclub's logo on the front. I turned it over and found a hand scribbled note that read, “Roses are red, but I'll be blue, if I'm denied the pleasure, of meeting you. ~ Christian."

  My jaw dropped. Jillian was still smiling at me as my other friends started to pass the card back and forth.

  Jill proceeded to tell me that he had asked her my name and then scratched out that poem so fast that she could barely see his hand move. He had also included his phone number on the back, and asked that I call him after sunset in two days, which of course, I did.

  I started seeing Christian every week, visiting during his breaks and getting seriously serious within those first three months. But then Mom died and everything changed.

  My dad, Jeremy Reynolds, is the Vice President of a marketing company here in town, but all his best clients came from the big city. He has to take an overnight business trip once a month to schmooze his big city clients and this is now the only time I get to see Christian. Dad has me stay overnight at Jillian’s house whenever he leaves town. So with Jill’s help, once a month I lose all sense of morality and sneak out to see my boyfriend. Yeah…it sucks.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER THREE

  Deviant

  (Rose)

  After I focused my attention long enough to actually get dressed, I came up with a plan to ditch the driver/babysitter after school. It would take some bad behavior on my part, and then some sweet talk immediately after, but I thought I could pull it off.

  At school I was your average college student. Never stood out much, kept my nose in the books, and made pretty good grades. But not today. I was completely disruptive, chatting when I shouldn’t be and constantly dropping stuff and apologizing loudly. And I was smacking my gum so much that it was actually starting to hurt my jaw.

  Finally, I got what I wanted. Mr. Thompson looked up with an exasperated look on his face and said, “Rose Reynolds…see me at the end of the day.” YES!!

  I felt like a deviant over making this much trouble for one of the few teachers that I actually liked. But I knew that Mr. Thompson’s only pet peeve was a student who disrupted his lectures, and that is exactly what I'd just done to perfection.

  Immediately after my last class, I made my way back up to the 3rd floor to Mr. Thompson’s classroom. He was waiting for me at his desk, nose buried in his day planner. “Ms. Reynolds.” He acknowledged my presence with a kind, but semi-frustrated tone. “I was not pleased with the way you were constantly interrupting my class today. Is there an explanation that you can give that will keep me from tacking on an additional 500 words to your thesis?”

  As I sat down, I tried to make myself look a little shaky. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Thompson. I think it had something to do with my low-blood sugar. It doesn't happen too often anymore, but after my mom’s accident, sometimes I would just forget to eat and then I would end up all shaky and hyper. I’m really sorry.” Sincerity was dripping from every word.

  Did I say deviant before? I meant criminal. I had actually played the “My mom was killed card” with my history professor just so that I could go make out with a guy.

  After Mr. Thompson dismissed me with a sympathetic look and a feather-light warning, I made my way to the first girl’s bathroom I could find. I freshened up my makeup and changed my jeans and t-shirt out for the dark blue sundress I had stuffed in my bag. The black flats I had on were going to have to do. Since I was taller than average at 5’10”, I didn't wear heels very often anyway. Looking in the mirror, I thought I looked pretty go
od. The sundress hugged my curves just right, and I certainly had plenty of curves for it to hug. My light blonde hair hung just past my shoulders. I wore it straight most of the time, but today I had braided it for school. So now when I shook it out it was nice and wavy. I loved that trick.

  Taking one last glance in the mirror, I applied a final dab to my cherry flavored lipstick. “Time to go see my man!” Yep, I was giddy!

  As usual, I had arranged to borrow Jill’s car for my trip to see Christian. She’s such a good friend. She completely feels for me and the strict rules I have to live by. So whenever I can squeeze out from under my dad’s thumb, she’s totally supportive. Huh…not sure if that makes her a good friend or a bad one.

  After I parked next to Christian’s car, a ’67 Mercury Comet Caliente (Yes, it lives up to its name–it is a HOT car!), I checked my lipstick one last time before embarking on the search for my man.