Marian Black Novels & Stories

"What are you doing?" "Thanking my savior, of course!" Mariah smiled coquettishly. "I hate owing people favors, especially handsome men—that's why I'm repaying you right now." She then pointed at the black-clad man. "He knows!" The black-clad man nodded, chuckling. "She's always been like that, getting ahead of herself whenever she runs into lookers. Don't worry—she won't bother you after this!" Frank growled coolly, "Save it. You should both be considering your defense."

But I didn’t come for them. I came for something I couldn’t name. Maybe a memory. Maybe a last chance. And then I saw her. Maria. She didn’t glide like the others. She stalked, like she owned the air around her, like the club itself bent to her will. She wore black, velvet that clung to her body with cruel precision, a slit in her dress that revealed the promise of legs that could ruin kingdoms. Her hair spilled like molten bronze, her lips a slash of red, her eyes were the kind that stripped you bare before you even spoke.

Biologic: introduce Stage-I exsanguine infusion disguised as medicine, titrated through a familiar (Maria), followed by controlled privations (fasted mornings, dulled palate), then a precipitant (wolf wound + my serum), then Stage-II binding (mirror-room, no salt, low brass, nine beats). Maria was the simplest piece. She is a pale thing with neat bones and chores that keep her small. I plucked her out of a widow’s kitchen fifty years ago and softened her with dresses and discipline. She has never asked whose blood she decants when I call it medicine. She only wipes the rim of the chalice and thanks me for keeping her warm.

Maria was in her room, feeling uncomfortable and knowing that if she did not act fast, that pretty woman that seems like a model would win Damian's heart before she gets a chance to be close to him. Maria was aware that her father could try, but they cannot force Damian to be with her. Thinking about her decision, Maria finally decided to go and see Damian in his home. She rose from her bed and paced about her bedroom since she got back with her father. She grabbed her travel box, loaded most of her important documents, and set to leave the house. She wore a black dress, assuming black was Damian's favourite colour. As she dragged her box and came downstairs to the living room, Maria met her

“What rumors.” “Oh, you haven’t heard?” Vanessa’s smile widened, delighted at my ignorance. “Damian Blackwood has quite the reputation for discretion, darling, which is a polite way of saying he keeps his real life very, very hidden. Marianne Cole isn’t the only woman who disappeared from his life without explanation, you know. There were others. Before her, after her. He has a habit of making women vanish when they become inconvenient.” The name Marianne, spoken so casually by a stranger, felt like a violation, like something private had been stolen right out of my chest and paraded in front of me as a warning.

I stopped, tilted my head like I was curious about nothing important. “What’s in there?” I asked, keeping my voice light. Maria didn’t even glance at the door. “Storage,” she said smoothly. Too smoothly. “Old things, Mr. Black prefers it kept locked.” “Which Mr. Black?” I pressed, smiling like we were girlfriends gossiping. She gave me a small, polite smile that told me nothing. “All of them.” That was all I got. But the way she hurried me past the door told me everything I needed, that room mattered.

despite our differences in social status, she's always been by my side, and we've grown so close. I nodded once. “Yes Mila, Adrian Blackwood.” Mila let out a slow breath. “Okay. Wow. That’s… wow.” She leaned back against the plush seat, crossed her arms, then leaned forward again like she physically couldn’t stay still. “I leave you alone for one interview and you come back engaged to a billionaire sociopath?” “I’m not engaged.” “Marriage contract,” she corrected. “Which is as a matter of fact, worse.” "I didn't sign it though"

Sydney Marin Sydney Marin Sydney Marin I closed my ears as the whispers turned into a shrieking noise. I don't know why am I hearing my name continuously. Something's wrong. I gotta reach my home. I left all the candles there, kept my parent's photo in my jeans pocket. Iam hearing my blue T-shirt and jeans and with the large spellbook, on one hand, a torch on the other hand. When I started running the shrieking voice follows me behind. My black hair is blown and messed up in this strong wind. Some trees around me started falling. I make my way through this wind as fast as I can. Soon on my way, a tree is about to fall. I dropped the torch and raised my hand right in the direction of the tree

Like a flood parted into two equal parts by a man holding a divine stick. And then one afternoon when she got tired and could no longer think again, she received a strange message from a woman who had wanted to talk to her. The woman was blind but she could walk almost as perfect as someone who could see clearly. She offered her a seat as she imagined a compact array of bright lights with white faces following the blind woman from behind. Of course, there was no lights. Just the smiling face of Betty Petersen as she introduced herself as a Canadian and a long time friend of James Blackwheel. At first, Maria thought she was joking when she said she was a long time friend of her ancestral fath

I perhaps and the rest of us were dead. Fortunately, bizarre as everything was, I saw the seven balls of catastrophic darkness floating in the sky, repelling just as the one I had control of. I looked forward and saw the most bad ass entry. It was Maria. She descended at once, with her hands flaming blue just like her eyes. She had no time to spend looking at me. The power she took upon killed her emotions. Clothed in a black coat with a black belt griping the coat around her waist and a free fall black hair, she turned over towards the darkness folded her fist and decreased their mass to inexistent.