Pretty Words With Dark Meanings Novels & Stories

And somewhere, deep in my bones, a voice, make, dark , rich, whispers, 'He’s lying.'

Walking down again into the mausoleum, the dark hallway that's not at all dangerous swallows me up again as I pass through it. It's like that dark magic that Machiv was talking about. Not necessarily dangerous, just the perception of it, I suppose. I've been somewhat scared of the dark since I was young, but gradually have come to learn through my life that it's nothing dangerous about it. Dark Magic might imply that too in it's basic concept. It's not the dark itself. It's what the dark is used by, what inhabits it, that could possibly be sinister. It's not the deep shadows themselves that want that, maybe never could want it to begin with.

Prologue When I was a child, I enjoyed listening to my mother's stories. Portraying the never-ending struggle between darkness and light. I would always look forward to her stories, which would be very entertaining. She always told me darkness represents malevolence, while light represents positivity and virtue. Her belief was that the power of light was the sole means by which darkness could be defeated. The resounding message she would consistently convey in her stories is that light will perpetually prevail over the darkness.

Grimmer snapped, not breaking eye contact with me. ​"The meaning is simple." ​His voice dropped to something darker, a tone that felt completely absolute. ​"When you ignore the warnings of the dark, the dark eventually stops warning you and starts eating.”

"You go to therapy and then you come home and you do not talk about it." "Because it is private." "Private is not the same as secret. Private means you do not have to share it with everyone. Secret means you are hiding something from the people who love you. Which is this." I look at his hand on mine. His fingers are long. His knuckles are scarred. His hands have done terrible things and beautiful things and everything in between. "I am scared of the dark," I say. "The dark?" "The winter. The cold. The short days. The long nights. The way everything dies and does not come back for months. The way I feel like I am dying too. Not physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. The way the dark makes me

The man's expression seemed to darken, like the gentle shadow of a summer cloud that seemed to cast a foreboding presence. "Arrow, or whatever your name is called," he said, his voice dripping with malice, like the soft, gentle trickle of a stream that seemed to flow with venom. "I believe everyone's prayer is to not die young," he added, his eyes glinting with a sinister light, like the soft, gentle glow of a summer moon that seemed to cast an eerie shadow.

He reached out, and for a second, I thought he was going to touch my cheek, but he just picked up a shiny little bottle from the nightstand and started fiddling with it. Then, in a solemn tone, he said, "Natalie, what would happen if the pill stopped working?" "I'd be a goner," I said flatly. The Davis family called it the 'loyalty pill,' and a person had to take an antidote every month. If they did not, by the third day, it would feel as if ants were crawling through their bones; the pain would be so unbearable that it would drive anyone insane. A week later, death would follow.

Every dirty inch of him. The words tumbled out before I could stop them, my voice hoarse and broken with need. “I want to be your slut…” I whispered, staring into his eyes with my cheeks burning with humiliation. “Your royal slut.” Soren’s grip on my throat tightened possessively, a dark, satisfied smile curling his lips. His other hand slid down to grip my ass, pulling me harder against the thick, hard ridge of his cock straining through his trousers. “That’s my sweet mother,” he murmured against my mouth, and a sweet little smirk on his fucking face. “Now show me how badly that royal cunt needs its son.”

Jeff says she’s built her wall up. It must have something to do with her past experiences. It’s okay. I can wait. At a very young age, I asked my father why our pack is called Dark Moon when the moon is clearly gold and white. My father told me because black is the most powerful color. It’s the safest and the most perceived dangerous color, and the darkness keeps us well hidden. We have to watch our prey carefully in the dark, wait, and then strike a blow. I'm very good at one-hit wonders. I’m good at waiting too.

Darkness closed in. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------