Marcus Black Novels & Stories

I swallowed bile as I followed him across the collapsing nave adorned with broken pews and rotting tapestries of saints. Halfway down the aisle, we froze. “Lucian Blackthorne,” drawled a familiar voice. From the shadows alongside the altar emerged Marcus, Blackthorne’s security chief, his iron-grey hair slicked back, eyes glittering with a traitor’s triumph. “Marcus,” Lucian hissed. “Move aside.” “Can’t do that, Alpha.” Marcus smirked coldly, grabbing a silver revolver and aiming it at Lucian’s chest. “Council doubled my offer. Retirement to the Scottish Highlands, a mate bond reawakened. I’m tired of serving the losing side.”

Marcus. "You don't look too happy, Mr. Marcus. Care to share why?" All eyes turned to the man with a protruding belly and receding hairline. Mr. Marcus laughed nervously again. "No, no, Master Blackwood. I..i'm elated! Truly happy. Ha ha. I'm just shocked as to how you did this without notifying the board of directors first. It seems quite unfair, don't you think?" He pointed out, glancing around the table for supportive eyes. Finding none, he gulped, adjusted his collar again and continued. "You're truly a great strategist, Master Blackwood. K... kudos to you!."

Marcus collected the glass of vodka and gulped it down in one go. “How did it feel having to protect yourself by taking a life?” Mr Blackwood asked. “I— I can’t really explain it sir” Marcus said. “I believe you came here for a reason, why don’t you tell me that?” Mr Blackwood said. “Yes sir……. I want to work for you, I want to be able to do for you more than Xavier could” Marcus said. “Now that is more like it…….those you have trusted have done nothing but fail and betray your trust, it’s high you move up the ladder and tell them who's boss and I will be happy to help you achieve that” Mr Blackwood said.

I pretended not to hear anything and walked in front of the three of them. “Is there something you need?” Marcus Black smiled at me, a contrast to the disdain from before. “Amara, it’s great that we’re in the same school again. Your hard work all these years has finally paid off.” Marcus Black, heir to the infamous Black family, a powerful name in the underground world, known for their control over international arms trafficking, money laundering, and high-stakes gambling rings. His family’s influence extended deep into politics and business, and their wealth was built on power that was often acquired through violence and manipu

I knock twice, the way Marcus taught me. The door swings open. And I freeze. Marcus is there, sitting in his usual chair by the window. But he's not alone. Standing beside him is the most beautiful Black man I've ever seen. He's tall — easily six-foot-four — with skin like polished mahogany, a shaved head that gleams under the soft lighting, and shoulders so broad they block out the light from the window behind him. He's wearing a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle and traced with veins.

Marc squats down, shoving his face in mine our noses almost touching. My lips tip to the side “Hi Marc” His eyebrows go up “Do you need an accomplice?” Huh? I go back a little because all I can see are his hazel eyes “What?” “For the little shenanigans you have planned,” he looks pointedly at my all-black outfit, making me laugh “what's wrong with my outfit? you’re wearing all black” I point out. In a black shirt, dark jeans, and black boots. He looks really attractive in an epic bad-boy persona, his hazel eyes sparkling with mischief

Blue laughs as she tells me and I cannot help but giggle, the scene immediately created by my mind, played behind my eyelids. It would be fun to watch her fall. Live, you know! "Cool! Oh, that's why she's mewling with her friend and Malcolm is laughing?!" I utter, glancing at Malcolm who is teasing Nicole. Malcolm is a roaster. He roasts everyone. He did not even leave Nicole just because they have fucked each other. Malcolm does not mercy on anyone.

She barely had time to make herself look decent before six o’clock. Outside, Blake Roberts was getting into his pickup truck when he saw Marcus’s Ferrari 458 Spider glide down the driveway. “Shit!” he muttered. He wondered if Marcus was slumming today since he wasn’t in one of his more expensive cars. Marcus loved going fast: fast cars, fast planes, and fast women, because he never stayed with one for long. Blake didn’t think Marcus was a snob. Sure, he liked fancy things and moving fast, but Blake kind of understood. Marcus secretly worked for the government while managing the Roberts’ global businesses. He traveled all over the world, but sometimes he got himself into situations that were

Damian squeezes his hand once more, then steps out of the car. The door is already open. Marcus Blackthorne stands in the entryway like a shadow made of muscle and wealth—tall, broad, silver-haired, and radiating a cold authority that makes the air feel heavy. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t blink. His eyes flick to Eli within the first second—and something sharp and assessing clicks behind them. Then he looks at Damian. “You’re late.” Damian steps forward, placing a subtle but unmistakable hand at the small of Eli’s back, guiding him inside. A clear message:

Even the smiling man’s jaw had tightened. My eyes remained fixed on the stairs. The scent grew stronger. Closer and so much nearer that I could feel it in my senses. Until finally— My heartbeat stopped. He appeared. Dressed completely in black, Marcus' expression remained calm. Cold and unreadable. The dark shirt beneath his robe was slightly open, revealing part of his collarbone. The long black robe flowed behind him as he descended the stairs. The entire room seemed to hold its breath. Even I couldn’t look away from him.