Brooding Dark Haired Man Novels & Stories

Then, a voice from the shadows spoke. “You may not get that choice.” The room shifted, warriors tensing as a figure stepped forward from the darkness. A man—tall, lean, and wrapped in a cloak dark as midnight. His presence sent a ripple of unease through the room. His face was pale, sharp features half-hidden by the hood he wore. But his eyes— His eyes were abyssal black. Selene was the first to react. “Who are you?” The man pulled back his hood, revealing silver-streaked hair and the hint of old scars across his jaw. He tilted his head slightly, studying us all as if we were pieces on a chessboard.

Just a sound that vibrates in my chest, low and heavy, like the ground itself is purring. “Bloody hell,” I mutter, sloshing toward shore. “Can’t even bathe without drama.” I reach for my clothes and my knife, but a shadow moves between the trees, a massive figure stepping into the light. He’s enormous...and HOT. Broad as a mountain, scarred from collarbone to wrist, with hair the color of tree bark. His eyes catch mine, deep and warm, the shade of honey turned molten by firelight. Behind him, another man follows, shorter, rougher, with a shock maul slung across his back.

He ran the tip of his tongue over his teeth and I tried to fight back a shiver. How could he look so sexy with red and purple marks all over his skin? He turned to the man beside him, nudging him with his elbow before pointing in my direction. I looked at the dark-haired man beside him. His hair was closely cropped to his scalp. There was no denying that this was one of the brothers. His skin rippled like Bash’s had when we were in the bedroom and I wondered what was making him struggle so? This had to be William.

A few men glance my way, and if it wasn't for the man holding my hand, they would have pounce on me. I follow the man to the second floor. It's quieter here, neater with dim light casting over the wall. He opens a room and nudges me in. And there I see him. Drogo. His large frame occupies the end of the seat like he owns and commands the room, aura consuming. His dark shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, one leg crossed casually over the other, his fingers brushing slowly against his lips. He is like a handsome devil that effortlessly blends with darkness.

What surprised me most was the bouncer standing nearby—he just watched, doing nothing to stop whoever had kicked the man. I stood frozen as a tall figure walked past me, heading toward the man who’d been thrown across the table. He was dark, and tall—there I go again, thinking in English. I couldn’t see his face—he was wearing a black hoodie that shadowed his features completely. I only saw his back as he approached the fallen man, grabbing him roughly by his long hair. Goosebumps rose on my skin as I watched him drag the man toward the exit with just one hand. A tattoo peeked out from his sleeve, while his other hand rested casually in the pocket of his baggy pants.

The kind of man you didn’t prepare yourself to see, because you wouldn’t know how to handle the reaction he caused. His hair was dark, a little messy, with strands that fell just above his brows. His jaw was sharp, traced with subtle beards that somehow made him look both rugged and put together. His skin was tanned, the veins along his forearms pronounced against the tattoo that trailed up from his wrist. Who is this? Did Adrian find out that I just went through a messy divorce and decided to order a man as hot anyone could possibly imagine to calm my stress? I mean I'm down for it.

The man was tall much taller than Thorne with broad shoulders and a powerful build. His skin was tanned, his hair was long and dark, tied back. His eyes were deep gray, almost black, and they looked at her like she already belonged to him. He wore a black coat that looked like it came from some dark fantasy world. A scar ran across his left eyebrow. “I am Draven Korr,” he said in a low, commanding voice. “You called for a man who knows how to claim what is his. From this moment, little librarian, you are mine.”

She could only hope for the best, which would be that he didn’t draw blood or worse. “Don’t!” The deep male voice startled her so badly she jerked and twisted her head around. A big form stepped out of the shadows on the other side of the room. His boots stomped loudly as he walked into the dimly lit area. “Get away from him.” Moon snarled, jerked his arm back inside the cell, and sprang to his feet. His chest rammed the bars, trying to push through them. The New Species male storming closer had long brown hair that fell past his shoulders and dark-brown eyes that flashed rage. The biker jacket and boots came as a surprise. He wore faded jeans and a black top.

Remembering the taste of the werewolf blood that he had tasted in the past, the bald-headed man’s face twisted in a crazed manner as he whistled as soon as he caught sight of the prey that he was searching for. “Well, what do we have here?” The bald-headed man clicked his tongue before licking his lips as he raised his saber to point it at Jared with a smile. Jared’s stance did not change at the arrival of a black robed man. He observed the other party’s appearance, and his eyes flickered to the black marks on the man’s neck and arms that are barely visible from under the black robe.

The small family we had created held onto each other, and Broderick held no amusement in his gaze. "The hell is this?" Broderick yelled again. "You fucking changed too? Are you marked?!" This Broderick certainly knew a lot for a human. Whether he found out on his own or someone told him, the witches will have a time erasing his memories. "Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to calm down and step away," A vampire warrior stepped from the shadows. The voice was deep, rougher than that of a typical vampire. The scruff on his face was neatly trimmed, but his wild hair hid his eyes. The dark, distinctive attire was filled with black leather, knives, a sword, and even a bow on his back.