Dangerous Man Book Novels & Stories

The man simply folded his hands as he leaned against the doorpost, looking calm as if he hadn't done anything improper. “What, I was just cleaning up your stuff” He replied casually without any guilt. “Why?” “You can't possibly live here anymore” He answered briefly and made me raise a confused eyebrow. “Why?” I repeated my question. “Danger.” That's all he said “danger” Would I just follow his orders because of the words “Danger”? —------------------------

“But I'm different. Charlotte. I love your ambition. I love your ruthlessness. I want you as my Donna, sitting beside me on top of New York’s underworld.” His head dropped and his teeth found my collarbone. A sharp spark of pain lit through my whole body. A low groan escaped my lips. My hands found the back of his jacket and held on. Outside, Manhattan was cold and dark. In here, in this narrow space, it was only just beginning. I knew the man in front of me was more dangerous than Leo had ever been, but I had my hand on this particular monster's leash.

That’s what he said. With his mouth. In front of everyone. In front of me. And I swear on every holy book and every dirty magazine I’ve ever hidden under my bed that my pussy fluttered. Not twitched. Not tightened. Fluttered. Because there he was, the most dangerous man in this building, covered in blood and still probably hard from ruining me against a locker, declaring to the world that I was his. Not flirt-with-me-at-your-own-risk his. No. I-will-rip-your-heart-out-and-feed-it-to-your-mother his.

He pulled me close, resting his chin lightly against the top of my head while I leaned my cheek against his chest, listening to the calm, steady rhythm of his heart. "I was dangerous back then, Nora," Damien admitted quietly, his hand gently smoothing down my spine. "I was an angry, isolated man who believed that control was the only defense against pain. I built this apartment like a vault because I thought if I let anyone in, they would use my vulnerabilities to destroy me." "And now?" I asked, lifting my head to look into his dark eyes. Damien looked down at me, his mouth softening into an expression of raw, unshielded tenderness that still took my breath away.

Her whole body was trembling and it was hard to stop it. Whoever the man is, he is dangerous. His dark eyes promised eternal misery and suffering. As though one mistake could cost her her life. How is she going to get out of this place? How is she going to run away from this dangerous man in front of her? The man's fingers were still holding her chin, his eyes penetrating her soul. She thought she could die from just being near him but she was surprised when the man squeezed her chin gently before he let out a smile.

“Was there a book you were looking for?” “A healer’s text,” he replies. “The older, rarer kind. The kind most people aren’t supposed to touch.” My throat dries. “I wouldn’t know where those are.” “Wouldn’t you?” he says, but it’s not a question. We stare at each other for a bit. His tone never lifts above polite. His expression never shifts into overt threat. But every instinct in me screams that this man is dangerous. I’m suddenly very aware of how alone I am in the room.

I glanced at him with a frown, which he ignored, smiling at the man as he stood to his feet. "I hope he does it because he doesn't seem like one who is willing to let go of that girl, and it is really dangerous seeing that he is the vampire prince and future king of the vampires. I thought he should know by now how dangerous it is to have such feelings for werewolves." The shaman sighed, shaking his head as he stared at me with disappointment in his eyes. He seemed to know just everything, and it's irking the shit out of me. How did Jake know about this man here? Can he read my mind too? Fuck it!

It's kind of funny seeing a guy as confident and powerful and dangerous-looking stuttering like a 5 year old, but the situation is stopling me from laughing. He sits there and he doesn't say, or do anything, just sits there for a few long moments; I'm not even sure if he's breathing. And then, all of a sudden, he stands up, pushing the chair bacwards so hard that it falls over, and covers his face with his palms. "Motherfucker." he mumbles to himself and then gives me that dangerous look he has when he's planning to kill someone. Oh boy. "With who? You're pregnant with who?" he roars out and I want to sink into the ground because everybody's eyes are on us.

“I stood there watching him. He was going to run a path through the floor if I don't go over there and stop him. So I walked over to him, touching his arm. He looked down at his arm, then looked up at me. “Vegas, look. I think I need to send you back home to the pack house. This is going to get real dangerous, and I don't want you getting hurt. It's bad enough that Kayla got taken; goddess knows what this motherfucker is doing to her right now.” I was stunned when he said that. What is this man thinking? Dangerous? I chuckled to myself. That's my middle name, Dangerous. He waited for me to say something. I guess me not saying anything means he thinks I agreed to go home.

He pushed himself off the car and finally stepped back. “Do you know what I saw in there?” No one answered. “I saw a man who lost everything…” “…and decided he was going to take it back.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “And the worst part?” He let out a quiet breath. “He’s not even using force.” That’s what made it worse. That’s what made it dangerous. Damian wasn’t commanding. Wasn’t threatening. Wasn’t controlling. He was changing. Adapting. Being patient. And somehow… That made him more dangerous than before.