Faustus Blackwood Novels & Stories

“No.” His eyes darkened. “Out of respect, I did nothing. I let him keep his throne, but that's where I fucked up," he paused, "he sent men after me, but when they came, they found your mother, and killed her." Stephanie staggered back, the wall catching her weight. “I lost control,” Blackwood admitted, his voice trembled with something that almost sounded like grief. “That was when I took out Jace’s father and his mother. I didn’t want to, but he left me no choice.”

All the people who had ruined my life stood beneath the same cursed roof waiting for my decision like vultures around a dying thing. My chest hurt violently. The silver marks beneath my skin climbed higher along my neck now, pulsing painfully with each heartbeat. I looked at Ma Felicia. She did not even try to hide her satisfaction anymore. This was what she wanted all along. Not just my inheritance. My death. “You finally understand now,” she said softly over the thunder. “Blackwood was never meant to survive through you.” Hatred rose hot inside me. “You built all this suffering for power?” “No,” she corrected calmly. “For permanence.”

“Good to see you again, Aurelia.” Cecilia, beside him, smiled as well. “You look lovely.” “Thank you,” I managed, sliding into the empty seat. To my right sat a distinguished older man with warm brown eyes and a kind smile. He extended his hand across the table. “Gregory Blackwood. Lucian’s uncle. Welcome to our home.” “Thank you.” Beside him sat a woman with soft features and genuine warmth in her expression. “I’m Lilibel, Gregory’s mate. We’re so pleased to have you here.”

A long blackwood table gleamed beneath a chandelier woven with glass vines and crystals, the spread before me was decadent. Xareth sat at the head of the table, dressed immaculately in a deep maroon coat, his hair perfectly in place. He smiled as he saw me. “Oh, you're up,” he said warmly. “Come, sit.” I walked slowly, my body present but my mind trailing behind. The nightmare clung to me. I sat across from him, trying to avoid his eyes. “Did you sleep well?” he asked, slicing a piece of fruit like we were simply in some noble estate, not a haunted fortress.

That was precisely the point. Gasps rippled across the marble, sharp as snapping fans. One girl near the refreshments dropped her crystal flute of sparkling elderwine; it hit the floor with a crystalline shatter no one dared acknowledge. All eyes pinned to him—on his leisurely stride, on the razor-cut smile beneath his storm-colored eyes, on the insult made flesh. And then the room shifted again—not from Theo, but from across the floor. Atlas Blackwood moved. It wasn’t gradual. It wasn’t civilized. It was as though something ancient had been torn awake beneath his skin. The change in him was immediate and absolute—a command rippling through the bones of the room.

"Viktor." Both women stared. Kate finally spoke. "Who's Viktor?" "My uncle." Ophelia added, "The lunatic." "He isn't a lunatic." "He tried to assassinate our father." "He had reasons." "He used a chandelier." "It almost worked." Kate stared between us. "This family gets more normal every day." --- Viktor Blackwood lived in a place sane wolves avoided. The Dead Forest. Which sounded dramatic until you actually visited. Then it sounded accurate. Nothing grew there. No birds. No insects. No streams. Just black trees that had been dead for several centuries and somehow refused to fall.

Blackwood to do something about it. Darky was a womanizer, a useless one at that. He wasn’t even good at the job but Mr. Blackwood had given it to him because he owed Darky’s uncle a favor. However, he was not going to let a favor owed be the reason for his multi million project to fail.

He moved with effortless confidence, like someone who'd never questioned his right to own everything he surveyed. Maya actually gasped and grabbed my arm. "Holy shit," she breathed. "Is that another Blackwood?" Harrison's posture stiffened slightly. "That would be Mr. Damien Blackwood, the first son of the Blackwood family." he said quietly.

But he didn’t look like he had been asking if I wanted to do it. My father stood from his desk, palms flat on the wood. “Aurora. I messaged him already. He’s expecting you tomorrow morning.” My stomach dropped to the center of the earth. Damian Blackwood. The man CEOs feared. The man who ruined entire companies before breakfast. My father’s cold, dangerous best friend. Rumored to have killed his wife—never proven, never cleared either. Everything about him radiated danger. “Daddy, you can’t be serious,” I tried.

“Or are you just that stupid you can’t---!” Damn, this man was never going to let me finish an insult! My rib broke under the onslaught of blows, and I was finding it harder and harder to breathe. But still, I couldn’t help but be a little disappointed… I mean--- This was THE Blackwood Pack! The biggest and strongest pack in the south, with so much money they could use it like freaking toilet paper! Alpha Christian Blackwood was infamous for how he led his pack with an iron fist, and he was rumored to be absolutely ruthless and a coldhearted bastard. But I must say, that if everything he’d done to me so far was his worse…