Dark Romantic Books Novels & Stories

maybe I’d underestimated it. The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky inky black, but I hardly noticed. Alessandro was somewhere nearby, probably keeping himself busy, but I was too wrapped up in the pages of this romance novel to care. This one was about some girl—Callie, who’d gotten herself mixed up with this guy, Damian, all brooding and mysterious, the type with a past that could crush him if he let it. But he was in love with her, of course. Only he didn’t say it. Not outright. No, Damian was the kind of guy who spoke in actions, not words.

Dammit, I felt like coming already just hearing those words, but not yet, not until I saw her limp and sated. I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against her earlobe as I whispered in a raspy voice, "You're beautiful. You pleased me. The way you take me, all hungry and desperate, it's driving me insane. I want to make you scream my name until you can't remember anything else."

She was laying naked and bathing in her own blood there. From that moment whenever he felt rage he used to cut his own hand and suck the blood out thinking it was Avalyn's ,that gave him peace of mind. Damien had his eyes closed and his head hung low as he finished telling him how he did everything with her in brief. "I had buried her in that graveyard by myself, and you know what I had named her," he smirked. "Devil's Innocent Angel, She was mine and I was the Devil and she was pure Innocent Angel whom I ruined,But I don't regret a single moment spent with her, she was delicious just like her blood",he said and his laughter echoed in the whole room.

"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.

Because Arabella Rose Hamilton had somehow followed him home inside his thoughts. Again. He poured himself a drink and moved toward the tall windows overlooking the darkening hills of Craneford. Rain threatened in the distance. The countryside was calm. But Edwin’s mind was anything but. He still remembered the sight of her standing outside the bookstore earlier that afternoon. Soft curls moving gently in the wind. Pink cheeks. Wide startled eyes. Beautiful. The word returned relentlessly now. Not the polished beauty London praised so endlessly. Arabella possessed something warmer. Real. She looked like candlelight on winter evenings.

I needed to cut her off. "Look, they're doing the walking around the fire thing." She said. I hummed non committal. "I read about it in this book by Drethi Anis. Five thousand nights of obsession. The book was so good." "You read?" I asked. I had never seen any book in her apartment or caught her with a book. "Yes." She blushed, then quietly. "Romance books." "You don't strike me as the romance type." I looked at her intently. "Is it one of those raunchy books with shirtless men carrying scabbards on the cover."

And revenge. For his dangerous tattooed queen. The one who killed him. The one he would make his, no matter how many lifetimes it took. This is a streamy Dark Fantasy Werewolf Romance book you don't want to miss for anything. Believe me when I tell you, you don't want to miss this.

“He saved me once. From drowning. Left me a note. Then another one. And now he’s acting like I’m the one who bit him. What’s his deal?” She started folding my clothes from the first bag. Very slow. Very precise. Like she was trying not to throw something. “He’s… private.” “Private. Right. That’s code for ‘vampire with issues,’ isn’t it?” No answer. She just kept folding. I leaned against the desk, arms crossed. “Does he hate everyone or just me? Because the way he looked at me like I personally ruined his whole day, it felt personal.” Still nothing. “Nicole. Come on. Girl to girl. Throw me a bone.”

The textbooks slid to the floor with a loud thud, but neither of us cared. He crashed his lips onto mine, and the kiss was nothing like a teacher and a student. It was hungry, arrogant, and deep. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. I didn’t care about my grades, my parents, or the pain in my side. All I wanted was the man who was currently lifting me onto his desk, his hands moving shamelessly over my body. “Forget the book,” he whispered against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. “I think it’s time for a different kind of lesson.”