Faustus Blackwood Novels & Stories

He nodded. The Blackwoods—the most feared mafia family in the city. Their patriarch, Don Vito Blackwood, ran the most notorious criminal empire in the country. His sons were equally infamous: Damian, the charismatic yet cruel eldest; David, arrogant and aggressive; Denzel, the flirt and womanizer; and Dominique—the youngest and most feared of them all. Cold. Calculated. Merciless. They called him The Devil. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. “Dad... of all people… the Blackwoods?”

Panic-stricken, crying in fear, I grabbed a hold of my clothes, covering what was left of my body. I saw it now, his eyes. They were fully red. The fangs. He had fangs prowled out from his mouth. His fingers, now claws. Asher Blackwood was more than mysterious. He wasn’t human!

VINCENT MOREAU It was not surprising, then, when Damian Blackwood started to pay me attention. I knew he admired me—not in the way I would like, but he was impressed by how I managed to find out about Wesley Black and curb her kidnap just as it happened. So when he reached out to me for drinks a week later. I had a number of spies keep tabs on the Blacks, and waited for any tug of some unfortunate prey over the new web I had cast.

Now I stood in the private lair of the three men who owned half the city’s skyline, and apparently they wanted to own me too. “Miss Voss,” a deep voice rumbled from the shadows near the bar. “You’re late.” I turned, and there he was—Damien Blackwood, the eldest of the Blackwood brothers. Tall, broad-shouldered, with midnight hair and eyes like polished obsidian that seemed to strip me bare without even trying. He wore a black dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle. The kind of man who commanded boardrooms and bedrooms with equal ease.

The aroma made the blood in every vein boil and his soul wept with longing. "Alpha Julian..." The whispers of admiration exploded like ocean waves. From the top of the marble stairs, descended a figure of a man who seemed to have been sculpted by the hand of a war god. Julian Blackwood. At only twenty-three years old, he has become the CEO of The Blackwood Empire as well as a deadly Alpha whose cruelty is unmatched in both the business and supernatural worlds. His face was like a Greek god carved from ice, cold and emotionless, with gray eyes as sharp as the blade of a beheading axe.

His presence was intimidating, his aura exuding malevolence. Ava knew who the man was. He was the original bearer of the Blackwood name, a retired marine soldier, Albert Blackwood. Albert pointed his fancy walking stick at Ava, saying gruffly “I haven't seen this one before” “She's new,” said Liam. Albert narrowed his eyes on her. “I can see that.” he gave Ava a once-over, scrutinizing her from head to toe. Ava swallowed hard, she could barely hold eye contact with him. Albert asked “What were doing to him? Taking advantage of the fact that he can neither see nor walk”

It meant I have all the best people around me to pull me up if I lost all hope - my workers, Cora, Sebastian. But amidst all the happiness and excitement, there was still a lingering sadness within me, caused by Tyler fucking Blackwood. I saw his true colour now, to the world, he lives under the pretense of a formidable, easy going business man, but really, he was a blackmailer, a fraud, a sex fiend and the most horrible man I ever met in my entire life.