Black Among Us Novels & Stories

Each of them formidable alphas from packs with unique abilities and legacies. Caius Knight Black of the Nightshade Pack was a tall man with long, sleek black hair that framed his chiseled face. His eyes were a piercing silver, sharp and calculating, often concealed under the shadow of his brow. The Nightshade Pack was known for their mastery over shadows and stealth, and Caius embodied that secrecy and quiet danger. His wolf, as dark as night itself, was a shadow among shadows, capable of blending into the darkness without a trace.

Black could protect his own daughter, but my need to guard my mate was in my blood. Mr. Black is a wildlife monitor, but he is also part of our pack in a way. Mr. Black is part of all the packs in the country. I’m pretty sure Evelyn has no clue. I have only heard the stories about why he left, but he did it to protect his family.

There was not a single human to be seen, he thought, and that was disturbing in a way that he didn’t really understand. “They must have generators somewhere,” Jules observed, looking around. “Has to be.” As they wove their way through the desks, their odd party drew attention, many of the werewolves staring in open confusion. At another set of doors, their way was blocked by two alphas in black uniforms. “Black is the theme color of the day,” Harry observed. They winked at Jules. “I prefer dark blue, like your eyes, honey.” “Black hides the blood,” Tom replied.

The moment she was spared, which he'd be glad to give her, she'll beeline to recovery chambers. He missed Mikhail more than he could express. "Who do you think is behind the ambush?" They hadn't seen it coming. None of them. "Smart enough to shut out defenses first." That held the powerful truth. "A group of mercenaries? Like Black Hawks?" Black Hawks were famously known and doubly cruel. They had blown up entire villages for the right amount. So when Evan asked this question, everyone stilled. If Black Hawks were involved, humans were involved. The group consisted of both humans and the wolves and the cats.

“Way stronger than any rogue I’d faced before.” “I know,” I whispered, barely able to catch my breath. “It’s like they weren’t even…wolves anymore.” That was when I looked down. The blood on my hands—it wasn’t red. It wasn’t the crimson I was used to, the kind that came with wounds and wars and too many years of violence. No, this was black. Thick. Oily. Like tar. Like rot. I blinked, thinking maybe I was seeing things wrong, but then I saw it on Nolan too. On Ava’s face. On Liam’s claws. On Shane and Jade. All of us. Covered in that black, putrid mess.

No matter how many waves crash at it, it remains unbending. In the underworld, keeping your identity is vital to survival. It’s very easy to kill someone and have their families want revenge, even if your actions weren’t personal. So among hit people and assassins – yes, there is a difference – we are only referred to by our codenames. We tend to come about them based on our chosen kill method. I ended up being called Blackheart because I tend to exsanguinate my victims and watch them die and those who have met me describe me as cold and emotionless.

It had been years of being the strong and young budding alpha female, and in one night, it seemed all of that had been taken away. The wolves of the Craw pack were black and strong, their eyes a variety of colors that changed based on their mood. The wolves of other packs had similar characteristics and sometimes you could only tell the difference based on scent and markings. “Other packs” however, did not include the Decent pack, the pack of the white wolves. They were the outcasts and had gone into hiding for many years now because as Isha had always been told, they were a mistake to the werewolf lineage.

She murmured while the pink colour spread on her cheeks. 'Two weeks, how will they pass?' A perverted thought struck her mind. 'You have gone crazy, Hannah. Don't let him affect you.' She tried to become normal again but it was impossible. Because the other party was ZION BLACK.

From the thick underbrush where we hid, I spotted two sentinels standing motionless at the cave entrance. Their faces were completely covered by bone-masked hoods, their forms draped in ragged black robes. It was impossible to tell if they were male or female, if they were even werewolves at all. They didn’t move, not once. Not even when the air shifted with death. When night fell, Xareth moved like a whisper. He stepped forward, his black cloak merging with the darkness. His bow emerged in one fluid motion. He pulled two arrows, and fired in perfect unison.

he said, smiling, his grip tightened like he wanted me to play along. I smiled instinctively, lips trembling as terror clamped down on my chest. What is he playing at? The warriors were covered in black paint, and their hair was shaved bald. There were many able-bodied men, but that did nothing to reassure me. “Welcome to Blackmaw, the city of New Age,” one of them said, smiling back as he opened the massive gate. Everyone seemed so busy preparing for the feast. He smiled at every passing face, slipping easily into the role—so convincingly, I might’ve believed him myself. I knew his intentions, but not how he planned to carry them out.