The Woman In Black Novels & Stories

Still at the Ronaldo's mansion~~~ Tension lingered in the air, the silence sharp and suffocating. The woman in a black sheath dress still could not believe the information she had received from her secretary. She had a black lipstick on her lips and her dark raven hair hung freely around her neck. Golden accessories dangled on her body, an air of wealth surrounding her. "Get me everything you can find on Amanda Greyson," the woman barked at the man, her voice dripping with venom.

She’d rolled, reached, grabbed Bella by the hair, and jerked her up and away. And then the air changed, the taste of it going iron-rich—outside the shattered glass, the world had gone dark as ink. A white blaze struck the stone floor. Through the black dust, a woman in a flowing black dress stood, her hands empty, her hair a curtain of red silk. She smiled at Mariah, and it was the precise inverse of the Queen’s: cold, blunt, and utterly without hope. “Enough,” she said, and in a heartbeat, every candle in the great hall died.

I am the last daughter of Andora and they will feel my power. The woman in black catches my eye again, as she stares in disbelief as the echoes begin to systematically move through the enemy sucking the life forces of everyone they come in contact with. I raise my hand, finger pointed to the woman in black, “Kill her.” I command an echo. The woman in black lifts her head, nose twitching, nostrils flaring. She caught a scent of something. Her eyes shift and land on me then dart to the echo almost upon her. “Morgan! No!” I see Finn racing toward the woman in black “St

I was a woman with a bucket, a brush and a partner who was willing to bleed for me. And Kieran Blackthorne was going to find out that a woman with nothing left to lose is the most dangerous person in the room.

I asked. Her eyes opened slowly, sharp and cool. “You always follow women home, Mr. Black?” “Only the ones who lie to me.” She didn’t blink. “You must have a lot of company, then.” “Not like you,” I said, voice lower than I meant. “You’ve got tells.” “I’m not playing poker.” “No,” I leaned in a little, “you’re playing something riskier. I just don’t know if the stakes are money… or blood.”

Maybe I just needed someone to hold me. “Don’t touch me, Maya,” he said, pushing me back. I blinked at him, dazed. “Bryan… I love you. I really love you.” “What is wrong with you?” he asked sharply. The woman stood up, crossing her arms. She looked at me like I was trash. “This your so called wife just drink my wige ,” the woman said with a smirk. “It was meant for me and you tonight. It had… something extra in it.” She laughed. “Looks like your wife is more desperate than I thought.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Mago’s face darkened with a rage that chilled me to the bone. He grabbed my arm and slammed me against the wall. I gasped as the impact sent pain shooting through my shoulder. I felt trapped, his fury radiating off him like a storm. Before he could speak, the woman let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes. “Tch! What a drama,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t like to be involved in this ridiculous mess.” She tossed her hair and shot Mago an annoyed glance. “I came here for fun, not to get dragged into some pathetic soap opera.”

Today she was announcing her comeback from hibernation, the man sitting next to Robert filled him in. From his back seat Robert saw a woman with a sensuous figure wearing a strapless Mermaid illusion electric blue sparkling evening gown walk in. A diamond choker necklace, matching chandelier earrings and thick bracelet caught the light with each of her movements as her long wavy luscious hair gave her a dreamy and mesmerizing appearance. Wait!, why did she look familiar?, Robert felt his mouth open agape. Was he going mad? Why was this stunning woman reminding him of Sarah?

A woman walked in like she owned the entire building, her heels clicking with a sharp, arrogant rhythm that demanded attention, and she was holding the hand of a small girl who looked like a miniature version of the face I saw in my own mirror every morning. "Xavier, darling, the security downstairs tried to tell me you were in a meeting, but I told them that a mother doesn't need an appointment to bring a daughter to see her father," the woman said, her voice sounding like honey poured over broken glass. I froze where I stood because I knew that voice, and when she finally turned her head to look at me, the air left my lungs in a painful rush. It was Isabella, the half-sister I hadn't seen

Some conversations require isolation. The woman is waiting in the center of the warehouse. She's smaller than Alessandra expected, and younger. Maybe thirty. Black jeans, dark jacket, a gun visible at her hip like a piece of jewelry or a promise. Her dark hair is pulled back, and her eyes -- when Alessandra gets close enough to see them -- are the color of storm clouds.