Chat Noir Novels & Stories

But he followed me tonight. The Noir de Costas bled into the dark behind us. My shadows, my family of knives, guns, and loyalty that can't be broken. Their movements were quiet and precise. The Noirs were already cleaning up the higher floors of this skyscraper, where drug dealers were shot down in alleys and their bodies were left to cool under fluorescent lights. We moved with the night, hunting and erasing. As one of my men dragged a body across the floor into the dark, Damian flinched. The smear left behind caught the dim light.

Black titanium moonstone ring gold-veined black gold, original Chapter One ring, now clear white heart gold vein, original and final both, pulses with blank deed baby handprint. Kael Wolfe Blackwood kneels with me on clear SoHo stone, Tom Ford black suit torn, black shirt open, silver chain bloody, wolf tattoo collarbone running slow sleep clear, gold eyes pure soft sleep clear staring at blank deed baby handprint, same gold. Burning hot hands human warm and burning both together, both at same time since baby handprint Chapter Eighteen, now clear warm, cedar and rain scent sharp with future dust.

The penthouse was dark, save for the pale city lights streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Chaos sat at the edge of the bed, shirt back on but unbuttoned, sleeves rolled to his elbows. A thin trail of smoke curled upward from the cigarette between his fingers, the sharp scent mixing with the faint sweetness of perfume lingering in the air.

Now I had an advantage. “Love, in the end we are all murderers” He purred behind me. Suddenly pain erupted in the back of my skull. As dots flashed in my vision. I gave one last glare towards the henchmen who were still watching from afar. One of them, a male with startling sapphire eyes stiffened taking a few cautious steps forward. He appeared to be talking to the leader above me. Though with my ringing ears all I could see was black spots as they conversed before being engulfed in the claiming blackness. Maybe we should of left before the ball...

DARK DESIRES EPISODE FIFTY SEVEN We arrived at the party late at night, The exterior was filled with cars and of course jeeps. The Mafia men will look for every opportunity to show their wealth at every chances given. "You're going to the lots of nagging today"Tyler smeared,I scoffed before putting on my ear pods. We both walked into the hall,The strippers laced at the entrance sashayed their way sexily to me,I scoffed and pushed them away gently.

“It’s tacky… like red lipstick on your collar.” “What the hell are you talking about?” “The lady left her signature… chérie,” she dropped in a sweet tone. “Her perfume… It’s all over you.” Christophe’s eyes splintered into hers, alight with disturbing mockery. A slumbrous smile of staggering charisma glued her gaze to him. “What a wonderful private eye you would make... I can see you sheltering from the rain in a doorway, watching out for the evidence of some poor bastard cheating on his wife! Unhappily for you, Lara, I’m not a married man.”

Centuries have passed and that girl, even when it's tough for me to concede, is probably dead. Thus, another girl, a grown-up lady is always appearing. This dilemma has been present for ever since year 2018 started, goddamn it! I paved my way through the Italian bar. The entrance was covered with beautiful and pink flowers with the neon letters La Fleur. You wouldn't expect that inside it was a bar full of monsters doing drugs, sex, and feeding on people. I saw a familiar man coming out of the counter and making his way to me. I grinned at him and nodded, letting my red pupil show – a way to greet your co-vampires. He did the same too.

One week later Desiré noire, or black desire, is what I call my leisure space for the city's wealthiest people. It is not prepotent to say that I have managed to make it one of the best in Paris. All the furniture, equipment and drinks are of the best quality, not to mention the lights and velvets that guarantee a touch of luxury, and there is even a stage where dancing is done to serve up sensuality and make the clients salivate like hungry dogs waiting for a reward.

The secretary immediately followed him to the basement of the Paradisò Hotel where the car is waiting for them. Klauss opened the car's door he brought for his Boss and the sleeping maiden. It was one of Mort's car possession, a Bugatti La Voiture Noire. He then entered the driver's seat and took the wheel. Klauss opened the car's engine and they left the place. While quietly traversing the midnight of the city's road. Inside the dim car, Mort broke the silence. "What's the schedule for tomorrow?" Mort asked as Klauss glanced at the Boss through the front mirror who is sitting in the backseat next to the maiden leaning against his shoulder and he slightly hugged her.

Viktor arrived at the apartment building as the temple bells struck ten o'clock. In the dark, one of his feet brushed against something hairy and wet. Viktor stopped and took a step back. The unearthly luminescence of the moon illuminated even the darkness of the street, where the light devoid of shades stripped the object of all its color, but in spite of that it was unmistakable. Erich's cat lay dead in the street. His skinny body was unnaturally stretched out. Hideously black blood stained his spiky ginger hair where the wagon wheel had passed over him.