Blackwood Book Novels & Stories

Honestly, she’s got more titles than a fantasy book series. He backs up. One. Two. Three. Like he’s got an internal metronome. Blackwood does a bow that probably took years to perfect, all smooth and precise. The whole thing feels choreographed, but you can practically sense Marcus counting every step in his head, terrified of screwing it up. “Your Royal Highness,” Blackwood starts, and wow, his voice has that northern lilt, like he’s about to sing you a folk song but make it sound like a threat. “The Northern Reaches acknowledge your sovereignty and pay respects to the historic claims of your bloodline.”

He already thought he had won. Alexander simply cleared his throat. "I'm not going to raise the payment I've already offered." Kelvin's smile faded slightly. Alexander continued calmly. "My company was recently acquired, but it's already operating jointly with Blackwood Corporation. As everyone here knows, Blackwood is the leading company in California and one of the strongest corporations internationally." He leaned back.

Blackwood. TBC!!

Olivia stepped further inside, breathing in the familiar scent of old books and polished wood. She moved along the rows of shelves, her fingers lightly trailing over the spines of various volumes until she found what she was looking for—a large, worn book bound in leather, its cover bearing the emblem of the Blackwood family. The title read, The Lineage of the Blackwood Alphas. With a deep breath, she carefully pulled the book from the shelf and carried it to a nearby table. Settling into a chair, she opened it gently, the pages brittle with age.

"He's demanding audience, Alpha. Says he has a proposition that might prevent... unpleasantness." Unpleasantness. Such a delicate word for the kind of territorial war that could paint these mountains red with supernatural blood. I found Blackwood waiting in the courtyard like he owned it, flanked by three wolves who moved with the particular swagger of creatures who'd never learned proper respect for established territory. He looked older than I remembered—gray threading through dark hair, lines around his eyes that spoke of years spent in exile—but his amber gaze held the same calculating intelligence that had made him dangerous three decades ago.

"The Blackwood Project was never about wolves. It was about making a body to hold the Void.. Your little boy? He is the body." The Shadows closed in on Leo. The library doors shut behind them. They were locked in with the ghost of a King and a truth that was scarier than the darkness outside.

BLACKWOOD MANOR – AFTERNOON The study was dark and heavy with the smell of old books and whiskey. Tall shelves of leather-bound volumes lined the walls, and stern family portraits stared down like judges. Alexander Blackwood sat behind his massive oak desk, a glass of whiskey in his hand. His eyes were cold as he looked at the woman sitting across from him. Katherina Rodriguez looked broken. Dark circles ringed her eyes. Her clothes were wrinkled, her hair messy.

The doors creaked as she pushed them open, revealing what lay inside. The cabinet was filled with papers, old books, and trinkets, the remnants of a past long forgotten. Bliss ran her fingers over the contents, her heart racing with each new discovery. Among the books, she found a leather-bound journal, its pages yellowed with age. The title, written in faded gold lettering, read Blackwood Family History. She pulled it out and opened it, her hands trembling with anticipation.

ACE By nine in the morning, we were already in Blackwood’s main hall—a place that only ever got used for events like this. The kind where silence is heavy, and everything smells like old money and regret. The sky outside was overcast, shadows of gray-blue light creeping through the tall windows and soaking the room in a cold hue. The Blackwood family portraits lined the walls like judges. Reggie’s was one of the biggest—arms crossed, chest puffed, staring straight at the spot where we were now all seated. It felt like he was still watching. Even from the grave.

We will find his weakness. Damian reached for another folder, thicker than the first, and slid it across the desk. The folder was heavy, the paper inside crisp and unyielding. “This is the Blackwood-Kerr acquisition. The owners are… sentimental. They believe their heir can protect them from reality.” His mouth curved—not into a smile, but into something sharper, something far more sinister. “Your job is to prove them wrong.”