Brooding Dark Haired Man Novels & Stories

I jogged up the stone slabs to the front porch, pausing only when I noticed a dark silhouette out of the corner of my eye. I felt my body thrum with excitement and foreboding as I turned slowly, eyeing the sinewy-looking man as he approached me wordlessly, the long shaft of a raffia broom clenched tightly between his white fists. “Eden Frost? How may I help you?” I breathed with a hint of authority, feeling my shoulders pull back as the toned man with his shock of white, low-cut hair almost as fair as his skin stepped into the light’s aura, his dark brown eyes turning to twin pools of darkness as he looked up at me.

“Beta Castor, she is here!” Footsteps from the living room make me turn my head. That’s when I saw a tall man with a curly black hair. His eyes were also black, with a thick lips and a cheekbone. He could be a model. But, somehow, my instinct told me that this man was dangerous in any way possible. He stared at me and a smirked came into his face, “Well done Burdock, she found a beautiful vessel indeed.” I was so annoyed by his words, “Hey, watch your mouth!”

It sounded as if it came from the depths of hell, sending shivers down their spines. Adrian chuckled and said coldly, "What's this? You're not capable of challenging me from the shadows. Are you going to take matters into your own hands now?" As he spoke, dark energy swirled around them and slowly condensed into a humanoid figure before Adrian. He noticed that it was a man dressed in black robes. However, the man's face was concealed by a hood, so Adrian could not make out his appearance.

What I intend to say is that he has a rich desire to stay in this pack come what may, and that also makes him the only person to store ammunition to make his living peaceful, and his existence feared by all. I somehow wormed on this side of Hugo and risked a peek out. The firing had come to a stop and a man, tall and broad, with dark brooding eyes— scarier than Babbiani, a murderous look on his face only a devil would have, and curly slightly long hair that veiled his forehead stormed inside.

“Morpheus shouldn’t have left you alone, my sweet.” The voice was rough and chilled me to my bones, causing a tingle to rush up my spine. Slowly, I turned to face the owner of the shadow, a bit more unsure of myself than I had been moments before. The man was dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a hoodie, a perfectly normal sight to see however unsettling his presence was. He pushed back the hood of his jacket and stepped closer to me, revealing the unsettling side of his appearance. A scar crossed over his right eye which was as so dark that I couldn’t distinguish his iris from his pupil, more scars littered his face and his hair was dyed an unnaturally dark black which reflected none of the

"I've seen you before. I wasn't interested in you, but it seems you've grown bold enough to kill disciples of the Nefarious Deity Sect nearby. You've got some nerve!" "Oh? Finally showing yourself?" Chase stopped and turned toward the darkness where the voice had come from. Moments later, a tall, muscular figure stepped out of the shadows. The man had tanned skin, exuded a thick negative energy, and wore a black robe. A menacing scar ran across his face, adding to his already intimidating presence. "Chase! I can't believe you dare commit such atrocities so close to the sect!" the black-robed man growled through clenched teeth.

With her eyes closed and tendrils of dark energy coiling about her, her body hovered just inches above the earth. "Lisa!" Dominick's voice cracked as he yelled. However, she didn't answer. An Increasing Danger “Isn’t it beautiful?” Dominick felt shivers down his spine at the voice. He turned to see a figure emerge from the darkness, his presence menacing and authoritative. The man had a pale face with long, dark hair framing his keen features. He had a distorted smile on his lips and his eyes were burning with an odd fire. "Who are you in the hell?" With his wolf howling in his breast, Dominick snarled.

He shouted furiously. "Father, relax, you know this is unlike the Darkwood Society,they should be arriving soon,” I said trying to calm him down. Few minutes later they arrived, 5 black cars pulled up opposite ours and there he was the new Mafia lord of Darkwood coming down from the last one, he had dark slic hair and piercing dark emerald eyes and a very tall and muscular build.

Broad shoulders, a small waist and even though I can't see his ass, I know it's a good one. Probably even better than mine. He has this dark look about him but then again you can't be a pretty face and survive in the mafia world. His hair is dark and a few locks lay on his forehead. Suddenly I have this urge to brush them back but remind myself who he is. If he's here, then he's one of them. There's no emotion on his face and it's a little unnerving but I don't give a shit. Because he just spilled his drink all over me and now I have to change.

My captor is all sharp edges and dark allure, the kind of man who looks like he’s stepped out of some brooding mafia fantasy. His jawline is sharp enough to cut glass, his beard perfectly trimmed, framing full lips that curve into that maddening, arrogant smirk far too often. His dark hair is artfully messy, like he just rolled out of bed but still manages to look better than anyone has a right to. The tattoos creeping up his neck draw my eyes in ways I hate. Dark, intricate lines snake over his skin, disappearing under the crisp white collar of his shirt. The faint glow from the passing streetlights highlights the ink, giving him a dangerous, predatory air.