Black Hearts Novels & Stories

The realization only spelt one thing for her. Heartbreak.

"I like blue. I think you like blue too, don't you?" I had been trying to get to know more about him; this was a great time to know more about each other. And the only things I got him to confess about himself within the past half hour was that, a) he liked the color black. And blue, I think. b) he hated saying thank-yous to people who pissed him off. c) he had really bad anger issues. I think he mentioned killing a guy on spot when he hadn't stopped blabbering—which was probably a lie; he was just trying to get me to shut up.

The last thing I saw before everything went black was the smug smile on Hester’s face as she stood outside the room. And then, darkness.

He will never forget, holding the body with residual temperature, empty eyes, and murmuring to himself, "brother, I am so cold and painful. Can you help me see if my heart is still there?" There was a big hole in her left chest. The blood dyed her white princess skirt bright red. "Brother, they said they would send me a bar mitzvah. I was so happy, but they took out the cold scalpel and cut the skin of my chest. Then I watched them take my heart away. When they were in their hands, they were still beating. I saw my own heart. It was red. " "Brother, you lied to me. You said my heart was black, but what I saw was red."

The alpha king's eyes were pleading, begging me to answer him. His eyes got watery as the moments passed when he thought I would never answer his question. Defeated, both of his hands fell on his side. "I get it. I don't matter to you. I was nothing but an asshole, too, River. They called me Black Heart, saying I did not have a heart, and if I did, it was darker than a pen's ink." I sucked in a breath.

"Who's got the black heart?" "I do" a light voice perked up then stood up. "Come on. Let's get this over with." Everybody looked at the figure that stood up. Of course, it just had to be her. Mrs. Heartbreak herself, Deborah Taylor. If heartbreak hotel had a receptionist, it'd be Vanessa. If there was someone rich, beautiful and invested enough to buy the hotel then turn it into her own personal workspace, that'd be Deborah. She was part of the clique of all those posh Grade 12 students that felt like they'd already become independent, and could care less about what anybody said or cared (That’s what everyone thought). Her 5'9 figure was a normal height in these parts but she’d carry herself

Heart by heart. With all my love, Kavira Hiraeth💜

My dad was just her current victim, and she’d brought along her dead ex-husband's daughter and a mountain of baggage. I missed Chloe. She was the only thing that made school—and my life—bearable, but lately, she was acting like I didn't exist. It didn't help that I hadn't been properly milked in days. The ache in my chest was almost as bad as the ache between my legs. I crawled into my massive bed, slipping my AirPods in to drown out the silence of the house. I pulled up a video, something raw and aggressive. It was a group of tall, muscular Black men absolutely wrecking a tiny blonde girl. They had her pinned, filling every single one of her holes at once.

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