Black Butler X Vampire Reader Novels & Stories

Surrounded by a black aura and flipping pages on its own, the book glowed ominously. She descended the ladder and approached it. As soon as she touched it, the book dropped, its dark magic vanishing. She knelt, examining the old black book, its scent and pages ancient. As she flipped through, she saw the list of vampire Supremes before the race split into two. Then she turned the page and saw the symbol of the black vampires. Her heart raced when she saw the image of the Thirteenth Prince of the blacks—Prince Zumir. Born on December 10, 1481, Zumir possessed powers unlike any blue-blooded vampire. His eyes were pitch-black and terrifying; his face alone could instill fear.

I can see the black uniforms of my men scattered throughout the battle, fighting glowing-eyed Tormentians in purple. Distracted by all the blood, I don’t see the wolf-shifter/vampire hybrid sneak up behind me until it’s too late.

Blood remained. "What did she look like?" Wolfblood blinked. Apparently expecting a different question. "Dark hair." The vampire nodded. "Pretty." Interesting. "Black wings." That caught his attention. His eyebrows lifted slightly. "Black?" "Yes." Wolfblood hesitated. "There was also blood magic." The room went still. Completely still. The vampire's gaze snapped toward him. "Explain." Wolfblood described the encounter. The knife. The fight. The wounds. The blood rising from his own injuries and striking him.

Vladimir said he had a meeting to assist and that we would meet during lunchtime. Honestly, I wanted lunchtime to come soon. So far, I was already annoyed and wanted to be alone. I was not listening to any of his words anymore. I stand up and leave. Victor is calling my name, but I ignore him. As I walk out of the dining room, I see Vladimir’s butler approach me. The old vampire looks old-fashioned. He is tall, has green eyes that look like a forest, and his hair is golden. The man seems amazing standing outside under the sun. He must have been a handsome vampire in his younger days.

I cut him off impatiently as we geared towards the front door. It abruptly opened and in front of us was an old butler. My eyes narrowed, he looked human. To make more caution, I threw a dose of wolfsbane powder at him. It had no effect, only making him cough instead with a frown on his face. “Can I help you gentlemen?” “He seems human.” Sebastian whispered from behind me. I scowled deeply, “We’re looking for someone. Asher Blackwood and Aurora Thompson to be precise.” I studied his face greatly for any sign of a facade, he remained stoic, eyes expressionless, “I don’t think I know who that is.”

The names of the Readers were turning into a solid, glowing "Ink Black." One of the "Readers" from the ship—a man in a modern black hoodie—jumped from the prow and landed in the courtyard. He didn't have gold eyes, and he didn't have silver eyes. He had eyes of "Pure Ink." He looked at Kaelen, and a cold, mercury-smile touched his lips. "The 'First Sentence' is beautiful, Genesis," the man said, his voice sounding like a thousand pages turning at once. "But did you forget the 'Disclaimer'? The 'Reader' doesn't just watch. Sometimes, the 'Reader' wants to be the 'Villain'."

I raised my eyebrows, wondering what he was talking about before he fluffed the counter as I gasped. “Run!” He growled, I looked at the blonde lady, her eyes turning black, and veins popping out as she tilted her head. “Fuck!” I cussed, Vampire. I stagger back, trying to find something I can use to fight off the vampire even though I knew that Aymeric would handle her. I need to be ready. She jumped on the table and in a split second lunging at me as I dogged kicking her back before Aymeric came behind her ripping out her heart.

Alex greeted the audience, a charming smile displayed across his face. The smile made the wrinkles beneath his eyes more prominent. With a goatee on his chin and a grey moustache above his thin lips, Alexander Black appeared older than all of them, having transitioned into a vampire much later in life. Actually, Damien was seventy years older and could still pass as his son among the common folk. He resumed talking, “Its good to see all of you here.” Damien scoffed and a woman sitting beside stared at him with a frown, but he did not care.

Amara demanded. I backed up and sat down, “shift back. Let me talk to, Alessia.” She stood up, her ears shifting directions and padded over to me quietly sitting beside me. Xander reached over and licked blood off her cheek that must have been from us. A vampire appeared in front of us, she must have heard him approaching. He was about 6-foot tall, deep brown hair and blue eyes, fair skinned with 5 o’clock shadow. He wasn’t built like muscular the werewolves; he had an athletic appearance to him though. He wore a black v neck t shirt, a black leather jacket, blue jeans and all black converse shoes.

She slowly turned her head. The man standing in the doorway was tall and thin, dressed entirely in black. His hair was white — not gray, not from age, but white like freshly fallen snow, as if all color had been drained from it centuries ago. His silver eyes seemed impossibly ancient, millennial. When he entered the room, the air changed. Literally changed, growing denser, colder. Carla felt it. Even as a human, even without powers, even with the bond blocked. That wasn’t normal, wasn’t human, wasn’t vampire. It was something worse.