Romance Obscuro Mga Nobela at Kwento

The one who could burn him alive and kiss the wound better. You stuck through the silence, the pain, the almosts, and the push-pulls. And when I was on the edge of giving up, you were the reason I didn’t. So here I am. Still writing. Still pushing. Still pouring my soul into every word because you deserve that. Dark romance isn’t everyone’s thing. But if it’s yours, then you get it. You get how love can be painful and beautiful. How obsession can look like devotion. How the line between “I need you” and “I might destroy you” can be so, so thin.

my eyes darted around the room trying to think of something. "Hmm, I guess not then" he spun back around, swiping his knife across the man's neck. My scream was silent as my weight became too heavy to hold, Sebastian let me fall onto my knees as I clawed at my stomach, trying to hold myself together. James and Sebastian stayed quiet, watching Noah's eyes gleam with excitement at the blood and death in the room. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, Embry, the floors all dirty, look, you've ruined your pretty dress" I followed his gaze to my dress and felt the vomit rush up my throat at the blood soaked fabric. Scurrying into the corner, my dinner spewed all over the floor.

Within seconds, he was crawling, and dragging himself forward until he could wrap his arms around my left leg like a child clinging to its mother, nuzzling his cheek against my calf. “Perdonami, mia signora (forgive me, my lady),” he gasped between kisses pressed to my skin. “Forgive me, but I cannot lie to you. Don Romano is blind, blind to such beauty.” I smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear with a dangerous slowness. “He’s not blind, Deci. I saw the way he looked at me that first night. His eyes devoured me. He wanted me so badly he could barely speak. He just won’t admit it.”

It was as if he demanded something from me, but I didn’t know what. A feeling I couldn’t shake off consumed me. Except, I couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Moya luna. Russian. The voice was speaking Russian. Could it have been Adrian? Except, he hadn’t called me that since that night in the gazebo. It was always pipsqueak and I had outgrown that nickname. The intense stranger watched me, his thick brows drawing over his eyes and something about him kept dragging me into his savage darkness. His dark eyes reminded me of the harshness of Russian winters - merciless and bone chillingly cold.

He felt cold. “I needed to see you,” he said, his voice a low rasp. He folded me into his arms, his hold tight and desperate. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his body trembling with a faint, almost imperceptible tremor. He was breathing me in, as if my scent could cleanse him of the filth of his work, as if my presence could chase away the ghosts he’d just consorted with. This was our romance, forged in the crucible of this war. It was not about flowers or whispered sweet nothings. It was about this, a profound, unspoken understanding, It was about being the one place in this violent world where he didn't have to be the king.

Bianca described everything she could remember. The height, the build, the way Max carried himself. The expensive suit he wore, the confidence in his voice. She mentioned the scar again, how it was thin and white, clearly old but still visible. As Bianca talked, Anna's face grew darker. Her jaw clenched tighter with each detail. "The scar," Anna interrupted. "Which hand exactly? And where on the hand?" "Left hand. Near his thumb, running down toward his wrist maybe an inch or two."

Pinning her to the table, he trailed rough kisses on her skin with his lips. “You asked for this, Mi amor. I will ruin you till you don't feel your legs..” He whispered in her ears. A smirk formed on her lips as she challenged him. “Ruin me, daddy. That's exactly what I want..” He smirked and slapped her ass, causing her to shiver. “Don't say I didn't warn you.” ********************* As the church members filed out of the dimly lit Catholic church, the warm sunlight spilled across the steps, illuminating the vibrant flowers and lush greenery surrounding the building.

Heat roared through me, shame and lust twisting into something explosive. “Oh god… Uncle Kale…” I couldn’t stop. My hips snapped harder, riding my fingers faster, chasing the edge. His eyes burned into me, dark and unreadable. My balls tightened. Pleasure coiled white-hot. My eyes rolled back, mouth falling open on a broken cry and I came so hard.

“If love blooms by the end of the contract and once he knots you, you’re stuck there, impaled on him while he fills you over and over. There's no pulling away, no safe word. Just you and a royal lycan beast who needs to breed.” The image flooded my mind. I imagined Victor’s gentle hazel eyes turning feral. His strong body pinning me down. That knot swelling inside me until I felt like I would break. My scar pulsed faintly under my habit, as if remembering every time I had been marked by something supernatural.

The angry, shamed part of her still wanted to push him away, suspecting he had spent his absent night with another of his companions, and she remained stiff for a long moment, until his gentle mouth and softly caressing hands smoothed away her resistance. Their lovemaking was slow, almost tenuous, as they let their bodies speak all the things they both wanted to say. Or maybe she was misinterpreting his apologetic touches and soothing kisses. Perhaps she was fooling herself so she could continue sharing her body with him. Even the doubt of that couldn’t hold back her cries of passion, and she was eager for him when he lifted her thigh and entered her carefully, drawing out his possession unt