A Gorgeous Villain Novels & Stories

She dug the novel out from beneath a stack of correspondence she'd been using to bury it, dust gathering faintly along its spine, and sat with it open in her lap for the first time in nearly two weeks. *The Villainess's Ruin.* She'd read it once, in her old life, curled up with tea gone cold beside her, treating it as nothing more than pleasant escapism before bed. She read it now with an entirely different kind of attention, searching each page for anything she might have skimmed past the first time, anything that might connect, however loosely, to a name like Renshaw.

Jana asks, "Do I look like I have the means to seduce someone right now?" Denise wrinkled her nose. "Uhm, you don't look too shabby. But hey, your face in the last instance looks very immaculate. Even I felt a little jealous." "Of course. The villains has to rival the protagonists in everything. That means villains should look on par with the main characters."

The sharp yet calm stare in his eyes could make Vanya’s heart throb louder. She could remember clearly how hot her face felt when Kevin won’t let go of his stare. She imagined that she would look as red as a boiled crab. It didn’t stop there. His sharp and rich musky perfume scent made him look more attractive in Vanya’s head. Soon the girl realized that she was intoxicated with the man she was supposed to hate. ‌

Politicians, heirs, actresses, and businessmen blending together beneath luxury and fake smiles. A beautiful cage. Her chest tightened slightly. Because she remembered dying here. Not physically. Emotionally. This was where the story first decided she was the villain. “Elena.” Her spine stiffened immediately. That voice. Low. Controlled. Cold enough to freeze the room around it. Cassian Arden. He stood near the staircase dressed entirely in black, one hand tucked into his pocket while nobles circled him carefully like satellites around a dangerous planet. Beautiful. Untouchable.

“Liam is a bully. I don’t like bullies.” “Mhm,” he rose to his feet and moved to stand near the wall of greenery. “You are a hero.” “Me?” I was astonished. “Oh, no. That’s Tarragon. She’s the hero. I’m just… me.” “No,” he turned back and offered me his hand. His palm was warm and calloused against mine and his arm strong as he lifted me to my feet. He smiled down at me and reached out to stroke a lock of my hair that had fallen free of its braid back behind my ear. “You are a hero. Every villain needs a hero, and you’re mine, Daethie. I think it’s safe for us to get out of here. What do you think?”

It was more like an insult that is punishable by execution. They showed their ridicule at her seeing how powerless she is compared to their kingdom. Though it was true that the sovier kingdom is powerless and small compared to them. But it doesn't mean that they can't fight back. After all, it was Alisha the villainous who was ruling the kingdom. Not only is she capable of ruling she was able to tame the wild and powerful man like Macbeth. Who was known as the king of evil in the arena.

I had imagined my death many times, but I never would have guessed it would be in the hands of him. Blonde hair. Sinister smile. Handsome face. Sadistic personality. Andre Castillo- member of the Malvado.

Behind the heavy doors of his study, Valen was seated at his desk, his focus unwavering on the documents before him. The room around him was elegant in its simplicity—dark wood, rich tapestries, and the faint scent of leather and parchment filled the air. The dim lighting cast shadows across his sharp features, enhancing the undeniable beauty that had always marked him. Valen was a masterpiece of vampire allure. His face, perfectly sculpted, held a quiet but overwhelming intensity. High cheekbones, a strong jawline, and lips that, even in their neutral state, seemed to hold the promise of something dangerous.

He made his way inside the mansion. Taking his seat on the couch, he threw his head back. The light fell on his shiny dark hair and breathtakingly charming face. His bodyguards dared to look up at their master and they could not believe their eyes. The monster was beyond captivating. It was as if beauty was his slave and charm was his magic. But what made him even more stunning was the fact that he did not even try to look like that. He just did and that was who he was. Elio Ford, The Ruthless.

Dark, perfectly sculpted eyebrows. Siren-shaped eyes with long, dark lashes that made his grey eyes look even darker, adding to his intimidating appearance. A sharp jawline with a perfectly trimmed beard around it, silver at the corners showing just how much older he was. I shut my eyes tightly. God… looking at him now… He looked like every goddamn villain in a vampire movie. How didn’t I notice?! “For a supposedly straight man… you do check me out a lot.” My eyes flew open, meeting the smug expression on his face as I swallowed, gripping the spoon tightly.