Novel & Cerita Black Author Mystery Books

Zach was faintly suspicious now. “Are you a superfan of Damien Black? How come you seem to have a whole library of his books in your bag?” Darien leaned in very close to him and whispered softly in his ear. “I am Damien Black.” He drew back and Zach took a moment to process that revelation. The bestselling gay erotica romance novelist under Harper Publishing was secretly the CEO. No wonder only half the books had happy endings. Darien probably didn’t like having fictional characters being in successful relationships when he couldn’t be in one himself.

As I’d done with Lance, I asked to be left alone in the room. My parents and grandparents may have been kind slave owners, but the visions that almost immediately shot into my head once I’d gone into a relaxed state of mind showed me that the former plantation owners were not. I watched as a strapping black male was stripped of his shirt and tied to a tree. It was an extremely hot day. His dark skin glistened with perspiration. It could have been from the heat or, possibly, from the stress of the situation. Maybe both. I could feel the rough bark biting into his bare flesh as he was secured to it with equally harsh rope. The crack of a whip reached my ears only seconds before I was prac

For now, she didn't even want to wonder what would happen if aunt Margareth finds out about her feelings. Selene stretched first, then slowly dragged herself off the bed, her eyes immediately fixed on the Book of Magic that was lying down on the desk, the one she had gotten from aunt Meredith yesterday. Selene took it gently in her hands and sat on the edge of the bed, setting the bulky volume on her lap, and flipped through the book several times. Afer the fourth time she stopped at a page that showed a portrait of a man with ebony, half-length hair, in a long black coat... The face itself seemed familiar at once, but when Selene saw his eyes - dark and captivating like two black holes, she

the leader of their council said. There was so much hatred in the way he spoke to me, and I wondered what he was talking about. "What did you find out?" I asked him. " You possessed a dark lunar magic and this has brought about some kind of darkness to our pack, we do not accept that kind of magic here and anyone who brings such to us will be punished" he said. It sounded like some lame joke, I am never with such kind of magic, what has this got to do with me?

I gave him the dark corner. He used it. Isla Voss had her back against the stone wall and her eyes closed and her hands in Alex’s jacket and Alex had his forehead against hers with the expression I had read about my whole life. In pack histories and my mother’s stories and every conversation about mates that had ever happened around me, which was every conversation because I was a Blackthorne and Blackthornes were the pack’s favourite cautionary tale and love story simultaneously. The mate expression.

In the next instant, the heavy door to the cell was blown off its hinges. Through the swirling haze of cordite and smoke, a figure emerged from the fire. Sebastian stood there, his long black trench coat soaked in blood that wasn't his own. His silver-gray eyes burned like twin blades forged in the fires of hell. The makeshift bandage on his left hand was saturated with scarlet, drops of blood hitting the floor with a rhythmic thud, mixing with the stains Ava had left behind. He took a step toward her, his voice a broken rasp. "...Ava."

I drag my eyes away from him to the slender man infront of me blood pulping from his leg. I pull the knife out when I hear the door of the basement closing. The basement is soundproof nobody outside would be able to hear him scream. "Tell me..." I turn the ring on my left hand's finger. "Who are you working for?" "I... I... The bank. The bank. I am the manager at the bank." Funny how they all stop stuttering and is able to speak when you pull out a gun. "Boss. His got her." Andrei whisper beside me. "Arthur's got her." Flames burn inside me. I should have killed that piece of shit a long time ago. I lower the gun to Albert's knee cap firing a round whole into his unharmed leg.

My heart sank, for I had hoped to find something more profound, something that would unravel the mysteries that had captivated my thoughts. Feeling disheartened, I found solace in the nearby book section, sinking into a plush armchair. I gazed around, my eyes tracing the spines of various books, seeking a momentary respite from my disappointment. And then, as if by some miraculous twist of fate, my gaze landed on a book with a black cover adorned with a striking WhiteMoon logo. It stood out amidst the sea of colors, beckoning me with an irresistible allure. I reached out and delicately retrieved it from the shelf, cradling it in my hands.

“Mondrian’s bond with you strengthens all of us.” I didn’t believe him. His tone was too odd—desperate even. But before I could press him further, his expression shifted. “Found something,” he said, holding up a thick, leather-bound book. Immediately my suspicions were thrown out the window as I dived for the book, excitement fueling my being as it read: History of Blessed Wolves—white and Black.

Dust clung to everything, and the dim lighting made it feel more like a tomb than a library. I found a small table in the corner and set my bag down, then started browsing through the shelves. It didn’t take long to realize that most of the books were about standard small-town fare—local history, genealogy, that sort of thing. But buried between the boring volumes on family trees and tax records, I found something a little more interesting. Legends of Blackthorn Ridge. The book was old, its spine cracked and its pages yellowed with age. The title alone made my pulse quicken with anticipation. I pulled it from the shelf and sat down at the table, flipping it open.