Marvel Carmilla Black Novels & Stories

Belle had just entered the hotel where the entire family was gathering to celebrate Carmeine's first birthday—the beloved daughter of Cassey and David—when she nearly collided with someone she knew all too well. "Belle..." the woman began before quickly correcting herself. "Oh, sorry. Dr. Belle DelValle." Belle immediately recognized the familiar face. "Miss Smith." A polite smile curved her lips as she turned to face Sylvia Smith, the former supermodel who still looked flawless despite retiring from the fashion industry years ago.

She takes her time to finish her makeup, rolls her hair up into a bun, opts for a black sleeveless dress and wears no jewellery around her neck all in a bid to show off Antonio’s mark to Tatum. “Who would have thought a time would come when the almighty alpha of the blood oak pack would be asked to wait for me and he would wait patiently like a dog for its master?” Carmela’s haughty voice fills the living room as she saunters in, taking majestic strides towards Tatum. Tatum stands up, looks at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes before his lips curl into a thin smile, his eyes falling to Carmela’s neck. “I see you carry the mark of the king, congratulations Carmela,” he says in a c

Her lips was painted a soft red, not as Isabel's whose own stood so brightly and should I saw erotic? But her sister looked so different from Carmen. While Carmen's were bright and soft, Camilla's were dark and aesthetic but in an incredibly beautiful goth way. Her eyes were dark, black even, her eyelids were black, and her lips too. It was beautiful, like something out of a dark scary book making her appear like the villian but in a cool way. "Why are you both so different from each other?" Lana said, covering her face with her aolm as Raya laughed from behind me.

Marcellus regarded his brother with a frown, "You seem to despise him." "Oh, I sure as hell do. And make no mistake, the next time I lay my eyes on him I will kill him. ; ★★★★ Marcellus walked to his car at the other end of the street after departing from his rest when a lady in black biker jacket and boots approached him. Her lips were painted black, wild shade of pink hairs cascaded down her head she spotted several piercings. "Marcellus!" She hollered at him. "Who would you be?"

Slowly, agonizingly, I turned around. Alpha Killian emerged from the shadows near the grand marble fireplace, utterly drenched in thick, dark blood. It soaked his crisp white dress shirt, turning the expensive fabric into a vivid, ruined crimson, and smeared across his sharp jawline like war paint. He walked with a slight, deliberate limp, making his way over to one of the plush leather sofas before sinking heavily into the cushions.

He had midnight-black hair and lethal, glowing amber eyes that swept over the crowd with absolute boredom. A faint, rugged scar ran along his jawline, a reminder of his dangerous time ruling the lawless offshore networks. It was Killian Blackwood—Cassian's exiled older brother, the true, feared Lycan Alpha of the Shadowlands. My heart skipped a beat, a wicked smile finally touching my lips. My perfect weapon, and my true fated match, had just arrived.

And I just took a deep breath, looking at him, at Maura, at Tiago, and I understood that something inside me had died for good — and what was born in its place was not docile. It was fury. And this time, it was mine. POV: Maura I could feel the vibration of the engine long before the car crossed the gate. Carlos was back—and with him, the chance to fix everything. Just hearing the sound of the engine was enough for the plan to form in my head. A quick movement, a precise calculation. I waited for the right moment, Camila's distracted gaze turned to the little tyrant she had created, and I let my claw slide out. The cut was clean, shallow, enough for the blood to start flowing. It burned, of

Zoe whispered. “I will.” “You better. And Cam…” Zoe pulled back, her voice firm. “Don’t let him crush you. I don’t care how rich he is, how powerful. He’s still just a man. And you...” she tapped Camilla’s chest“you’re fire.” Camilla nodded, unable to answer. At that moment, the sound of a car horn drifted from outside. A deep, impatient honk. Camilla glanced at the clock. Her stomach turned. The black car waited at the curb. Glossy, tinted windows. A driver in a dark suit standing by the door.

Spoken with a voice that was both ancient and sharp enough to slice bone. My breath caught. “Who—” The darkness in front of me shifted, forming the outline of a woman. But she wasn’t a woman anymore. Her entire body was black—burned charcoal, cracked like scorched earth with glowing red veins running through the fractures. Her eyes were hollow, and yet I felt them piercing straight into me. The Scarlet Witch. The true one. She stepped closer without walking. Like the shadows carried her. “I have the record,” she said, voice echoing like a hundred whispers layered together. “Every soul who has ever opened my book. Every hand that dared touch my magic. You, Laila Reed, are the most reckless of

The sleek black car glided to a halt before a palazzo that blazed against the Milanese night, its ancient stones warmed by the glow of a thousand lights. Jay stepped out, the weight of his tailored tuxedo feeling less like clothing and more like a suit of armor. He adjusted his cuffs, a nervous tic, as he ascended the marble steps towards the murmur of music and money.