Dark Romance Books To Read Novels & Stories

No matter how much I tossed and turned and cussed, my mind wouldn’t just shut off. With a frustrated sigh, I sat up and reached for the book on my nightstand—Death’s Obsession. A dark romance. I had picked it up a few days ago but hadn’t had time to start it. I'd heard from countless people how good a read it was, considering it was just a few hundred pages. Now seemed like a good time to read for myself. I curled up under my blanket and flipped to the first page. The story pulled me in instantly. A brutal, obsessive villain. A heroine caught in his twisted love. The tension, the darkness—it was exactly the kind of escape I needed.

His breath was fire against my skin. Damian’s body pinned me to the mattress, his grip bruising, his movements relentless. His scent clouded my senses, flooding my lungs, drowning me in him. His lips crushed mine, a kiss that wasn’t gentle. It was raw, possessive, claiming every gasp, every moan, every last shred of resistance I had left. I arched beneath him, my fingers digging into the taut muscles of his back, nails raking against his burning skin. His body was a furnace, hard and unyielding, pressing me deeper into the silk sheets.

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The curly blonde-haired girl, on the other hand, was just confused as she sized me up with her eyes. My eyes were locked on the handsome Alpha prince, so sexy and domineering with his Alpha aura filling the air. He had that bad boy enticing appearance that most ladies would love and his dreamy hazel eyes cute, but right there, I knew he wasn't for me. His eyes were brimming with disgust and anger as they gawked at me even with my mate scent.

"Love is the strongest weapon we have against darkness," he had said. Eli turned to the girl he loved and took her hand. With all his heart, he poured his love into her, and suddenly, the darkness began to recede. The other vampires joined in, pouring their love into the battle, and together they were able to push back the darkness.

IF YOU HAVEN'T READ CARTER BROTHERS SERIES, here's the list: (these are on Dreáme Àpp) Maddox and Bree: Saved By The Devil Dom and Kiara: Hating My Baby's Father Brandon and Elle: Obsessed with My Future Husband Alex and Scar: Scarred Knîght. Check them out, you'll like them if you love your heroes damaged and dark, and finally getting their happily ever after that they deserve. These books are dark romance and are for matured readers, check TW. You might hate them but you'll end up loving them. Thankyou once again. Until the next time! ♡

She'd found something so much better. She'd found someone who made her body sing. Who made her feel alive. Who fucked her with the same passion and rhythm he danced with. Her ex had called her boring. Dante called her perfect. And every time he made her come.....which was often.....she knew he was right.

Instead, her own hands slid into his hair, pulling his head closer as she kissed him back with the exact same desperate passion. By the time he broke the kiss and pulled away, both of them were panting, their heavy breathing echoing in the quiet hall. When Rosa slowly opened her eyes, her head spinning from his intoxicating touch, she saw his gaze swirling with a dark, intense lust that mirrored her own.

His tongue invades my mouth, and I melt against him, my body singing under his touch. The bond between us roars to life, an inferno of need, and I feel him, his desire, his fury, his terrifying, all-consuming love. Then A hand fists in my hair. Dominic wrenches me back, breaking the kiss. Adrian snarls, but Dominic ignores him, his gaze locked onto mine. He whispers in my ear "You don’t just belong to him, little wolf." His free hand slides down my chest, his fingers brushing the lightning mark. The contact sends a jolt through me, my nipples tightening painfully. "You belong to me too."

The desk, the books, the searing heat of him, it all dissolved into the oppressive, grey light of a Tuesday morning filtering through her cheap blinds. “Bloody hell…” she muttered, burying her face in the pillow. She lay there, heart hammering against her ribs, her skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat, the ghost of his touch still tingling on her lips, the echo of his groan ringing in her ears. Her chest still heaved as though she had run a mile, skin damp with sweat, lips tingling from phantom kisses. It wasn’t the first time. For weeks she had woken from near-identical dreams, each one more explicit than the last, each one starring the same man, Dr. Davis Clarke, her Literature professor.