Severus Black Novels & Stories

"The baby gets my last name. I raise the baby. He stays out of the picture." Harper stared at me like I'd just said the moon was made of cheese. Then she pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. "No fever. So why are you saying crazy things?" "I'm serious." "Cecilia, he's not some chill ex-boyfriend who'll Venmo you child support and disappear. He's Sebastian Black. Alpha of the Silver Peak Pack. You really think he's just going to let his heir be raised like some side character in your life?"

“There’s no blending in.” His voice changed slightly then. “My brothers rebuilt the Blacktop from blood and war. Why the hell would I hide who I am?” I looked down at my coffee-colored skirt quietly. That was the difference between us, Sergei had spent his life becoming more visible and I had spent mine trying to disappear. “It’s strange,” I admitted after a moment. “You’re technically my babysitter even though I’m older than you.” His expression hardened so quickly it startled me. “Age means nothing.”

I didn't want to be subjected to the torture of having to put up with this shitty attitude. "Do you even realize what you have agreed to?" Silas scoffed, looking down at me like a dumb child incapable of making decisions. "We cannot let you in on any of our business or plans without you belonging solely to The Black Rose... there will be no out for you," Silas emphasized. "Not even when Elijah's killer is found," he declared coldly—or rather, with a satisfied tone.

My body buzzed from the alcohol and the orgasm. The music thumped and I let it pull me. My arms floated at the surface. My hips swayed. My wet shirt clung to my skin, see-through now, lace visible, nipples hard beneath the soaked fabric. I didn’t care. I felt hot. Wanted. And then I looked up. And froze. There, above the pool, leaning against the iron balcony railing with a drink in his hand, was him. Chance. Professor Black. His black shirt was unbuttoned just enough to show a glimpse of ink trailing down his chest. The sleeves were rolled, forearms tensed, veins tight.

Can't a girl catch a break. I heard their bones start to crack as they shift back into their original form naked. There didn't look ashamed of standing naked instead both if them looked surprised of me not standing naked with them. In their dreams. They looked at me with pure hate,I couldn't recognize them but I had a feeling they weren't part of the midnight pack and they weren't rogues either. "So she is the famous Alpha Black, the one we were sent to kill."The skinny wolf said ,he has scars all over his body and his dick was short. You won't blame me it was so funny.

“Hi readers! Since this story has a large cast, I’m sharing the character sketch to make sure you enjoy the journey without any confusion.” Soren Rafael Blackthorn or Rafael Blackthorn Age 25, a hybrid king. King of the entire supernatural world and possesses the power of the earth. Rafael also knows how to read others’ minds. He can show memories to others and even erase people’s memories. Teleporting and making people sleep are his other specialties. He is the head of the THREE ASSASSIN BLACKTHORNS. Rafael is the mate of Saraya.

He said it in an extremely serious tone. "O-kay Dad!" I said but inside my mind, I already said a few cusses. I knew what Dad is going to say and I can no longer reason a way out of it. *** Black's POV "Black I'm so dead! I can't escape anymore!!!!!" Mich complained. She is here in my room this early morning just to complain. "What happened?" I asked confusedly because I haven't heard any explanation since she came in, she just rants and voices out how her life is doomed.

When your son's bedtime stories came from mommy because daddy was always at another business dinner? "Ladies." I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. "If you'll excuse me, I have another appointment." "Of course! Don't let us keep you from that perfect life of yours!" Mrs. Whitmore's laugh tinkled like breaking champagne flutes. I made it to the elevator before the words really hit. Perfect life. They saw what I let them see. The authentic Sera Blackwood, wife of Jonathan Blackwood, old money, new success. Mother to Oliver, the sweetest eight year old who still believed in magic and happy endings. Part-time art authenticator who worked "for fun" because surely Jonathan pr

"You really don’t know who you married, do you?" A chill ran down my spine. "Travis, if you have something to say, just say it." He hesitated. "Sebastian Black isn’t just some wealthy businessman. He’s dangerous. He doesn’t just make deals—he destroys people." I frowned. "That doesn’t make sense. If he was that bad, why haven’t I heard anything about it?" "Because he knows how to cover his tracks," Travis muttered. "Trust me, Isabelle, you don’t want to be on his bad side."

I don’t even need to turn to know who it belongs to. Still, I do. “Hi, Mr. Blackwell,” I say, forcing a bravery I absolutely do not possess when it comes to this man. As usual, he replies in that infuriatingly calm, nonchalant tone. “Lyra… what are you doing here?” Then, casually, “And please, drop the formality. Call me Soren.” God. This man’s voice is going to be the end of me. I gather myself before replying, even though my brain is already malfunctioning.