Romans & histoires Sky Dweller Black Face

A giant figure stepped into view, a woman, if the word could even apply. She towered over the entrance, hunched and monstrous. Her face was twisted by time and rot, her skin leathery, her teeth yellowed and jagged. Blood stained the corners of her mouth, and her sunken eyes gleamed with a cruel light. “Finally,” she growled, her voice low and thunderous. “Sleeping beauty’s awake.” She laughed. A deep, guttural sound that rattled the bones of the cell. It was a sound that didn’t belong to any human, or wolf.

The man standing before her was taller than she expected. Broad shoulders. Dark tailored suit. Black tie. Sharp features. Cold gray eyes. The kind of face magazines loved. The kind of face villains probably practiced in mirrors. Power radiated from him effortlessly. Danger too. He didn't look human. He looked carved from stone. Damian Blackwood. For seven years she had imagined this moment. She'd imagined shouting. Accusing. Hating. Instead, her mind went completely blank. His gaze settled on her ID badge. Then on her face.

Her face was calm, unreadable, the face of someone who had seen generations of wolves rise, claim, bleed, and fall, and no longer wasted emotion on things she had not yet witnessed. Beside the dais stood Decker. He wore black. Not ornamental black. Not the sort meant to draw the eye with decoration. This was Dark Mountain black clean, severe, fitted to strength rather than vanity. His jacket sat close across his shoulders, the line of it sharp against the breadth of him, his dark hair brushed back, his jaw set. He looked every inch what he was. Alpha.

Black, Dylan's wolf spoke up from inside. Dylan looked at the girl and walked towards her.. The girl thought Dylan was going to sex with her again but Dylan held her jaw roughly. The woman hissed in pain. "Should I break you neck along with yours?" Black his wolf spoke up again. "Listen up, you whore. I never use a body twice. Leave or I will dig you right here" Dylan said calmly but his voice full with venom. He was angry at the girl and at himself too. The woman looked at Dylan fearfully which gave Dylan a great pleasure.

In a dimly lit warehouse, shadows danced eerily across the concrete walls, casting a sinister glow on the imposing figure of Deather "The Scarface," the ruthless Don of the Scarface Cartel. Dressed sharply in a jet-black suit, his polished shoes reflected the dim light, and in his hands rested a heavy metal baseball bat slung lazily over his shoulder. His icy eyes carried a chilling, calculating gaze, their cold depths betraying no mercy. He was totally Hades himself for being as ruthless as him, and he feared nothing, not even the gods forcing together.

The wind howled so loud it felt like it was screaming. I stood still, trying to catch my breath. “Who are you?” I shouted. The man turned slowly. “Show your face,” I growled, my claws outstretched, ready to tear this fucker to shreds. I could see his lips curling into a wicked smile as his slowly raised his head up. I froze immediately, my soul leaving my body. He had no real face, his eyes were pure black, like looking into a well with no bottom. “The storm is coming,” he said.

That just … can’t be good. I shot a look at Ryan and his face was all over the map. He had absolutely no poker face and you could read his thoughts on his face. Well, I could at any rate. “I am Ash Black, the werewolf representative on the council. I believe I met you before,” the male said, pointing to Ryan. “Yes sir, briefly,” Ryan said. At least he was smart enough to be polite, the moron. Ryan and I were completely opposite people, raised differently and had totally different outlooks on life. So why the fuck was I sitting here with him, about to beg the leaders of our world for a favor you might ask?

Dominique managed to question him despite the searing pain oozing from every pore of his skin. Dylan tsked, “So many questions. All right this time I wouldn’t disappoint you. But we will go with the second part first, hmm. Now tell me have you heard about ‘The Black’?” Dominique quirked a brow at his absurd question. Nevertheless answered. “Of course, I know. He is the psychopathic Mafia Lord of America, Leader of the Night Stalkers.” He grated out. “Ouch,” Dylan feigned a hurt expression and placed his palm over his heart.

The red blood moon hung huge and bright in the sky, making everything look bloody. Dozens of werewolves stood in a circle. At the center was a tall stone platform. And on that platform stood the most terrifying man Kai had ever seen. King Darius Blackthorn. He was massive. Tall, wide shoulders, muscles covered in old scars. His golden eyes seemed to shine even from far away. He wore only black pants, his chest bare to the cold night air. A silver blade rested in his right hand. The pack mates threw Kai forward. He fell onto his knees right in front of the King. The rough stone scraped his skin badly.

Not because I was sad, but because of how badly it hurt. “I never expected to see you here, Daxxy!” her black hair was pixie cut with jean shorts and a black flowy tank top. I could see her tattoo down her arm. It was a crest moon shaped dream catcher with lines down that ended into shapes of birds. If my education is correct, this should be the Black Hawk Coven. “I never figured I would be down here, but I am on business.” I heard Dax say before I turned around. “This is Ben, Samuel, Duke Jason and Pr-”