Dark Confessions Novels & Stories

*** I woke up from my long nap and turned to wake Dan but he was fast asleep, he told me Gabriel had cancelled coming and I have never felt that much relief. I walked to the bar downstairs with just my red net see-through bra and panties, I always love to look sexy and sex appealing. I just got to the bar and poured a cognac for myself still shivering at the thoughts of my early morning adventure. “ You really like that bar.” A voice called from the side “ What the heck! Who is that?” I blurted out, eyes scanning the room. “You look so damn sexy on this set too,” Gabriel said walking into the light his eyes fixed on my tits

she whispered between gasps. “I feared I couldn’t stop if I started.” “Then don’t stop.” They fucked through the storm. Drenched. Drunk on each other. When she came again, she screamed his name. Back in the confession room, damp and trembling, Damon picked up the black confession ledger. "Tonight I saw myself. Not the mask. Not the myth. But the man. And she touched every part of him. I confess: I don’t want her for a night. I want her for every unspoken desire I’ve buried. I want her in and out of the Garden.

"You can't possibly do that. What about school?" "I don't care as long as you learn that your confessions are non-negotiable." "You're fucking crazy." I shoved his chest, but he didn't move an inch. He leaned into me. "Tell me the truth dorogoy. What are you really afraid of? Are you afraid that you don't like it or is it that you're afraid that you like it too much? That it makes you wet?" I gaped at him. "You're delusional." I tipped my chin and straightened my back. I didn't falter as I took determined steps towards his confession room.

He asked. She shrugged and nodded. “Whatever floats your boat.” “I am serious. He confessed it to me himself and from what he said, there are more like him in this school…” Daniel paused and his eyes widened in sudden realization. “ …Oh my goodness.” He gasped. “ What is it?” Ann looked worriedly at him. “ The bat, the sudden and mysterious deaths of those two men.” Daniel whispered as he stared into space. “ Those men. The bite marks on their necks. They weren’t killed by wild animals. They were killed by vampires!!”

Iza spun around, the folder in her hand slipping to the floor, papers scattering like autumn leaves. Dark was standing in the doorway. He was still in his suit, his tie pulled loose, his silhouette blocking the only exit. He didn't look angry. He looked... empty. The "Devil" had returned, and the mask of the lover had been discarded on the floor of the boardroom. "You lied to me," Iza whispered, her voice cracking. "Everything... the debt, the contract... it was all a lie." Dark walked into the room, his boots sounding like a death knell on the hardwood. He stopped in front of her, his gaze dropping to the photo of her father on the wall.

“You just confessed everything, on record, and I’m done. Touch my family again and you won’t just lose the project, you’ll lose everything.” I turned and walked out, legs shaking. The recorder in my bag felt like a lifeline, his confession was there...raw, unfiltered, deranged. Outside on the street, I leaned against the building, sucking in deep breaths. Tears burned my eyes. I felt violated, exposed. The intensity of his obsession was worse than I’d imagined. Not mild feelings, not a simple crush. Something dark and possessive that had been growing in the shadows for months. I called Damon with trembling fingers. “I have it, his confession. All of it. He’s completely unhinged.”

Instead, his grip on my arm tightened until I felt the bone groan. "Please," I whimpered. "I was just sent to clean the room. I don't even know who you are." He leaned in, his face inches from mine. He smelled of expensive cologne and the bitter tang of drugs. How much are they paying you? Tell me, “I’ll pay you double to tell them you saw nothing.” I stared at him, Confused. “what is he talking about"? who are they? Before I could ask, his eyes glazed over.

The man whose Lycan beast was now irrevocably spliced into the very fabric of my soul. “Dominic...” The name tasted like ash on my tongue. My voice was a fragile, trembling whisper that cracked against the frozen stone walls. “Tell me he’s lying. Look at me and tell me it’s a game.” Dominic didn’t look at me. He stood frozen in front of me, his massive back rigid, his shoulders taut as steel cables. The brilliant, triumphant gold light that had radiated from his chest just moments ago choked out, replaced by a dark, suffocating shadow of absolute guilt. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t deny it. The heavy, dead silence stretching between us was a louder confession than any scream could ever b

The confessional booth was a small, dark wooden box tucked into the shadowy corner of St. Augustine’s cathedral. It smelled of old incense, polished oak, and the faint, lingering scent of sweat and shame. Father Marcus, known to his parishioners as a stern but compassionate man of God, sat inside, waiting. His heart beat a slow, heavy rhythm in his chest. It was past midnight, a time when no official confessions were scheduled, but he had received a private, handwritten note slipped under his office door earlier that day. It read simply: “I need to confess. Not during daylight. Midnight. Alone.”