Marvel Black Cat Hot Chest Novels & Stories

Scary stuff, but fuck me, he wore psychopathic serial killer very well! I checked to see if the coast was clear before I stepped into the hallway. I had made it back unnoticed, at least that's what I thought. A massive wave of shock crashed into me as I opened my bedroom door and I nearly stumbled into a body. My breath caught in my throat, the color must have been bleached from my face. I froze, a look of horror etched onto my face as I stared at the bared chest blocking my view from anything else. I could not even have a moment to admire those rippling biceps, that core of steel, that solid eight- pack, because my mind was too occupied with processing the fact that Damien Blackwood, in all

Night fell over Blackwater like a sentence of isolation, and inside the workshop garage, the silence was broken only by the sound of metal cooling. Dante Blackwood sat on a workbench, his hands stained with grease and dried blood, staring into the gloom. The golden glow in his irises, which once signaled dominance, now looked like the reflection of a fire he couldn’t extinguish. In the center of his chest, the Alpha’s heart beat with a force that suffocated him; it wasn’t the adrenaline of the hunt, but the excruciating weight of a soul wounded by guilt.

“What do you feel?” Ashen’s voice trembled. “Two pulls. One is Solven. Familiar. Cold. Heavy.” “And the other?” Hamish asked. Ashen’s breath hitched. “Hot. Wild. Fast. Like it wants to break through. Like fire trapped behind glass.” My pulse stopped. Hamish’s voice fell to a whisper. “That is the second consciousness.” Ashen’s knees buckled slightly, and I caught him, holding him upright. “Grayson,” he whispered, “it’s stronger… than I thought.”

The mood instantly changes to sexual. Oh. I slide my panties down my legs and take them off and lie down on the bed in my little black dress. He stands at the end of the bed and grabs the nape of his t-shirt slowly pulling it over his head, revealing his golden, tattooed torso. My hungry eyes drop to the rippled abdomen and the V of muscle that disappears into his jeans. He doesn’t have hair on his chest, but has a trail of sandy hair from his navel down to his pubic hair. My mouth goes dry.

Get your hands off me!" I shoved Caleb’s chest. Hard. He hit the reinforced headboard with a crack that sounded like a dry branch snapping. I didn't care. My vision was a jagged landscape of silver and white. Every pulse of my heart sent a wave of liquid fire through my veins, a metallic itch that made me want to peel my own skin off. My claws—black, curved, and dripping with a grey, viscous fluid—dug into the silk sheets, shredding them into confetti.

Red Viper Club Victor Conti, the Alpha of Black Mamba MC, stepped out of his sleek black car and onto the dimly lit street. He slicked back his shining black hair, his eyes scanning the surrounding area with a hint of paranoia. This was his favorite club, Red Viper, a place where he could let his guard down and be himself without fear of judgment. But it was also a secret he kept hidden from the rest of the world, a secret that could ruin his ruthless reputation. Red Viper was a gay club, and Conti knew that his association with it would be seen as a weakness by his enemies and even mean his death by some of his own people.

My daughter Aria was hospitalized due to nut allergy, but my Alpha mate’s Omega mistress Vivian gave Aria nut chocolate as a gift. I suppressed my anger and refused, but Marcus frowned and scolded me:"Serena, Vivian meant well. She didn't know about the allergy." My mate Marcus Blackthorne is the Alpha of Blackwater Pack. Border conflicts had erupted suddenly, forcing him to patrol our territory for several days. He returned just in time for our daughter's discharge from hospital, driving over to pick us up.

“You actually think the worst thing I could do is kill you?” I glare at him and allow my rage to build. It’s a warm rock inside my chest and it’s growing hotter. “I never thought you’d be into brown skin,” I taunt, his gut-wrenching tattoo completely forgotten. He laughs. It’s not a happy sound and it sends chills down my spine. “To me and my men,” he puts the emphasis on men and his smile disappears, “all pussy is pink where it counts.” Heat rises in my cheeks. Fucking asshole.

When Mark looked inside, he saw another black cat. "How can you tell them apart?" he asked. "The one who came out—Wentworth—has a patch of white on his chest. Darcy doesn't." "Huh." He wished he were more of a conversationalist. To his surprise, he wished his older brothers were here. Harrison always knew what to say, while Caleb could make people laugh with his droll one-liners. Even having Jubilee here would be better than this awkward silence, with her incessant chatter and questions. But Mark had never been good at small talk.

I stayed still, raising an eyebrow at her. “And the same goes to you, little vampire. Last I checked, your heart does not heal after being pulled out of your chest” I said, using my force, I punched and pushed my hand inside her chest, grabbing her heart before she could react. The one difference between us was that if I let her go, she would heal, I wouldn’t, not as fast anyway. The bodyguards and Natasha stood by the door, taking in the scene. The men held their guns, and Natasha two knives, ready to attack the woman if she decided to do anything stupid. I squeezed her heart, and wrapping her hand around my wrist, Caterina squeezed it as she closed her eyes in pain.