Terminally-ill Genius Dark Knight Webnovel Novels & Stories

Lucian whispered, trailing his finger over her face. Finally, Lucian left the room. The book sat on the desk, its dark cover gleaming ominously. He could feel its pull, the promise of power and throne. But one thing rang in his mind, he had to find her, and for the first time, Lucian felt a glimmer of light. But the battle was far from over. The shadows within him stirred, restless and insistent, opposing him from making a stupid step again.

My sister and I were both reborn on the very day the marriage pacts were to be chosen. In our previous life, she was the one who married Adrian, the Black-Armored Duke whose reputation for cold brutality struck fear into all. She endured his indifference until she was cast out and sent back to the Vere family in disgrace. I married Lucian, the White Knight, gentle and gracious as carved jade. I wore the Duchess's coronet and became the envy of all. She was consumed by jealousy, convinced I had stolen her true love. So she killed me. And so, this time around, she rushed ahead of everyone else, personally tying the white stag ribbon that represented Lucian, shoving the Black Wolf that everyone

Raymond pressed. Drake's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "To whatever his ultimate plan was. The embezzlement, the trafficking, these were means to an end, not the end itself." "We need to find out what that end was," Lucious concluded, his voice hard. "Before anyone else gets hurt." In the healing room, Knight had fallen into a light doze, his wolf's senses still attuned to Annabella even in sleep. A small sound from the bed brought him instantly alert, his eyes flying open to find Annabella watching him, her amber gaze clear and steady.

They were basically rich and spoilt. Nolan had always been a terrible person until he met Kyla. When Kyla died, he became worse. He didn't even need Sasha and serenity anymore. He didn't need anyone in his life. He didn't even want to live anymore. He blamed himself over and over. Now, he doesn't even feel anything anymore. Kyla's death turned him Into a dark, heartless man. He doesn't even have a heart anymore. He doesn't smile, he doesn't give a shit about anyone, he just lives because he feels like hurting others the same way he hurts. Making them feel the hurt he felt and still feels, seemed like a way of paying life back through the pain of others.

Loud inhales and exhales seem to fill his lungs with anything but air. The anticipation of Death is what Dominque feared most; never would he have imagined he would be staring Death in its eyes; through his swollen eyes, all he could see was a tall, dark figure as it emerged into the darkness, "Please stop," he pleaded. ‘Welcome to Dark honor, where Death is more pleasant than being in the presence of Lucifer.’ Joshua and Tiffany grew up in a dangerous neighborhood because their dad ‘Lucifer,’ a well-known kingpin, wanted his kids to be street-smart.

I ran my hands across his abs taking time to observe his features, that were usually marked with authority and sternness, were now relaxed in deep sleep. The furrowed brow that commanded fear during the day was now smooth, giving way to an unexpected vulnerability. He looked extremely innocent when he slept. At that point he looked like Matteo Russo and not the dark lord, I don't know if it made any sense. I traced the lines of his sharp jaw, now relaxed, and my gaze lingered on his tattoos, his very pretty tattoos, there was one below his pecs, it was written in Italian so I couldn't understand. But on his knuckles there were roman numerals, I-X one on every knuckle, he had removed his knuc

A blinding, suffocating dark haze violently clouded his entire vision, entirely replacing the terrifying hyper-lucidity with a deeply lethal, highly toxic delirium. He violently collapsed completely backward entirely into the freezing, deep sludge. He didn't actively possess the microscopic strength to completely fight it anymore. The empire was entirely ashes. As the terrifying, freezing black sludge violently filled his actively bleeding mouth, the complete, absolute darkness finally, violently swallowed the legendary Devil of Dalal Street entirely whole.

Dominic let out a snort as if my question was the funniest joke he had ever heard. “Obviously not. I only know because I was with him when he was diagnosed with it.” Before I could even open my mouth to learn more, he beat me to it and pretend as if he was sealing his lips with his finger, “I’m in no position to tell you more. It’s his story, not mine.” I frowned, “he won’t tell me.” He shrugged, turning his attention to his phone as he started scrolling, “some things are better left in the dark, Skylar. Now go get dressed.”

Derek came out of the office, picked up his bride and took her to bed. I hoped my knight in shining armor would come carry me off soon, I mean who the hell was calling at 4am? It was real quiet and I was trying to listen but he was whispering, which made me even more curious. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Heath, of course I did! Lord knows I gave that boy enough sex for three lifetimes he’d never need to look elsewhere, but still. I was always a bit self-conscious that he could find something better.

"There are many runes, Willow. It's intricately designed on his back. It must have been very painful when doing that. I have never seen the likes of it. Frankly, I have to study more to understand. But I'm afraid this is out of my knowledge" "What do you mean out of your knowledge?" Willow voiced loudly. "This is too big for me. It looks like dark art" Willow sucked her breath. "Dark art?" "Yes. And you know I'm not versed in that" "There must be something," Willow groaned, her frustration mounting. She could feel her temper rising due to the helplessness she is feeling. Reagan's voice came from far away. "Give me that" "Not now Reagan. I'm irritated as it is"