Black Butler X Modern Reader Novels & Stories

“Michael Luther!” the old butler lowered his voice and bellowed. “I’m sure you don’t want Mr. Stewart to learn about that incident too, do you?!” The old butler’s dull eyes clearly showed his age, yet in contradiction to other elderlies of his age, his eyes carried a fierce and sinister look. The person on the other end of the call fell silent for a moment. The old butler’s tightly-furrowed brows loosened up slightly… ‘Glad that you’re scared.’

A voice suddenly echoes in the large living room and I turn to see a man dressed in a butler's attire at the entrance, he lowered his head respectfully. “I'm Winston. The previous butler fell ill and so, I have been newly appointed by Mr Blackwood.” As if I knew who the old butler was. I force a small smile and nod. “It's nice to meet you Winston. I remember Alexander mentioned something about some maids too, did you perhaps come with them?” Winston smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes Mrs Blackwood.” He faced the door and clapped twice and some maids walked in with their heads slightly lowered.”

Koishi gulps in response, bits inside his cheeks. "I will be there by your side, master" with the gentle look over the face of the butler with a small smile on his lips. "Thanks, Damien for everything. I don't know what would I do it you weren't there. Thanks for everything" making a butler freeze for a second staring down at his master, eventually nodding his head hearing the door being open. Just then, to see a lady with black hair tied into a bun opens the door, the cat-like eyes with beauty over the side of her cheek. Her eyes move towards the butler then at Koishi making her eyes go wide in response.

She turned to stare after him. "Who was that?", she found herself asking. The butler’s voice answered behind her. "Skylar Blackthorne, the young master of the house." And also her step-brother, Amanda thought to herself. She gave him one last look before they continued up the stairs towards the drawing room, but Amanda couldn't get the encounter out of her head. Why was he so cold? And what did he mean by 'human'? Samuel stood at the center of the drawing room, tall, commanding, silver hair swept back, his black suit tailored to perfection.

Hey beautiful humans. Welcome to The Chiseler BB4 (Blackbook 4) of the Woods series. Have you checked out BB1, BB2, and BB3 yet? If yes, congratulations🙂 if no, pls do check it out. Love you all much much. Your Author Zagzahzlau. ~••~ "The shade, tsk tsk, I don't like it," I said whilst punching my phone. My friends--Marila and Bennie--had managed to pull me out of my cocoon from the comfort of my beddings tenderness on a Saturday afternoon to the Mall out of my very own wish.

A savage growl echoed, followed by a horrible sound of flesh being torn. Adrian, still in crow form, tilted his head on the branch, watching everything coldly. “Pathetic,” he cawed, bored. The butler tried to crawl away, his hands shaking and his face dirty with earth and blood. His eyes met those of the panther, which now walked slowly toward him, its muzzle dripping with the blood of the wolf it had just killed. “Please…” Blackwell begged. “I just wanted to live… I just wanted to be like you…”

Even if she tried to be discreet, she had suited someone watching her every move, following her! She had to warm Ethan off following her to the bathroom. It was just too much. Thea exhaled as the door creaked open. Soft heels clicked across the tiled floor, trailing perfume. Thea glanced at the mirror and saw Yumi glide in, as flawless as ever: glossy black hair, designer blouse under the Zean uniform jacket, lips curved in a polite smile that never reached her eyes. “Thea Balmero,” Yumi said brightly. “Or should I say Mrs. Blackwood.”

he spoke plainly, his short dark hair coat swaying back and forth by the push and pull of the wind, he looked powerful and dominant with the mere sight of his back alone. "Who is back master morbius?," the butler asked respectfully "A ghost from the past, Lilith the skinwalker,"

I moved quietly toward the sound, peeking around a bookshelf. A figure sat at one of the antique reading tables, illuminated by a single desk lamp. Male, probably early twenties, with pale skin that seemed to almost glow in the dim light. His dark hair fell across his forehead as he bent over an enormous leather-bound book, his long fingers tracing text with careful precision. He wore all black, turtleneck, slacks, boots and something about him seemed... different. Wrong, maybe. Or not wrong exactly, but others. Like he didn't quite belong to this world of fluorescent lights and coffee-stained carpets.

She knew every face. Elder Whitmore, silver-haired and heavy-jowled, who had voted to exile her. Elder Park, the pack's historian, who had refused to record her name in the lineage books. Colin Hayes, Lucian's second-in-command, who had stood stoic and silent while Lucian recited the rejection. And at the head of the table, Lucian Blackwood himself. He looked worse than she'd imagined. The shadows under his eyes were bruise-dark. His collar was loose, tie undone, shirt creased like he'd slept in it. He was thirty-one. He looked forty-five. When their eyes met, his hand — his right hand — was wrapped in a fresh bandage.