Headmaster Black Novels & Stories

"Why?" "Because I hate his guts." If she hated him, then I had reason to believe that he knew some secret about her. So could she be the one behind the attack on my life or was I just overthinking it? No one said anything else and I got to my feet. "This assembly is dismissed. Jon will give you all instructions on when the next session will be." I walked out and Jon was waiting. "Where is Maren?" "Obviously busy with the slaves in their pen," Jon said.

But this is a completely different world. Then he heard the person at the podium clearing his throat and it captured the attention of the students. “Ahem. Good, good. I can see that this year’s freshmen are full of passion and a burning desire to conquer. Whether it is for power, love, and knowledge, each one of you has its reason. Let me introduce myself. My name is Christopher Hawkins. I am your headmaster. I major in all parts of learning. I have been the headmaster for 40 years.”

The way he looks at me makes my knees want to give in. I hadn't even realised how sexy he looked in his all black suit which I knew all too well was Armani and his matching dress shoes. His dark hair was disheveled, giving him that 'bed head' look which I knew was intentional. I wasn't going to admit it but it was the best and sexiest bed head I had laid eyes on. Everything about him was just annoyingly gorgeous. Oh jeez Did I just think that!? "You mean Mr. Scott?" He asks squinting his eyes at me slightly, like he was trying to look through me.

Just as the game is about to start, a bald, coal-black, slender man comes marching into the field. "Good Morning, Mr. Emeka. "The black man greets our coach, with anger on his face. " Good morning sir. "Our coach replies to him. " Who's that? "I question Johan. "That black, short man devil, is our headmaster. "Johan replies, and it takes a great deal for me not to snicker. "Is anything the matter sir? "Our coach questions the black man now know as the school's headmaster, and he replies,

The old man was nearly choking with anger. "Do you think that just because he’s here, I can’t do anything to you?" "Dominic Blackwood may be a bit of a rogue, but he’s not so far gone that he can't tell right from wrong." My words came with a barrage of insults directed at the old man. The old man sneered, "Today, I'll show you who the real master of the Blackwood family is." He then shot a glance at his bodyguard, and they surged into the room. The door was slammed shut behind them. I raised an eyebrow. "Old man, are you planning to take me out before Dominic Blackwood arrives?" "Hah, you should have died three years ago!" Isabella Blackwood leaned closer to the old man, adding fuel to the

"More than anything I've felt. More than you. More than all of you combined." The faculty exchange worried glances. "Could it be Blackclaw?" Professor Thorne asks. "No," I say. "This feels... different. Older." The Headmaster raises his hands and chants something in a language I don't recognize. The air shimmers, and suddenly we can all see beyond the wards. A figure walks through the forest. Tall. Elegant. Moving with impossible grace. Not threatening. Not aggressive. Just walking. Like they're taking a casual stroll. "Stop," the Headmaster commands, his voice magically amplified.

~Damien's POV~ I found the man in a parking garage two blocks from Blackwood's downtown offices, waiting by his car with the particular unhurried confidence of someone who had never once in his career been made to answer for anything, the confidence of a man who had spent years learning that other people always cleaned up his messes for him. Marcus Whitfield. Adrian's head of corporate strategy, a name I had pulled off three years of conference attendee lists before finally matching a face to it, and the kind of executive who existed specifically to keep his boss's hands clean.

Rafael replies, his dark eyes softening into something so intensely devoted and heavy that it makes my breath catch in my throat. The headmaster looks between the four of us, realizing that his intimidation tactics are completely useless against a girl who has already died once and come back with an army of obsessed alphas wrapped around her finger. His hands begin to shake uncontrollably, the heavy rifle slipping from his sweaty grip and clattering loudly against the polished marble floor. "You are completely insane, all of you, the council will slaughter every single student who supports this coup," the headmaster whispers, sinking defeatedly against the edge of the filing cabinet.

the headmaster pointed out with a finger raised. “If the two of you are right and the lady is dead, what then?” lord Slog quickly intervened as the two seemed quite taken by their conversation. Commander Tycus and the headmaster’s face once again turned grim as a shadow loomed over their expressions. “Then it would just mean disaster for all of us,” the headmaster mutters as he laid on his chair. “Yes that would be true,” commander Tycus let out a deep breath before looking at the old adviser, “how do you think will the prince react to such a thing, lord Slog?” he tilts his head to the man.

I pushed through the hallways, ignoring the stares from students still buzzing about “the alpha who doesn’t heal.” Dominion was brutal, sure—but we were alphas. We were supposed to heal in a moment. Fast. Without flinching. That made Val a liability. Or something worse. I didn’t bother knocking when I reached the Headmaster’s office. I barged in like I owned the place. Because I kind of did. “Soren,” I said. Headmaster Soren didn’t look up right away. He was at his desk, fingers folded, eyes on some old document like he hadn’t just watched one of his students bleed like a mortal.