This Man Isn't Black Novels & Stories

I hear a mans voice approaching me " Ana. Anastacia." I turn to him. "Who me?". He looks like he's in his early thirties. He looks white but more Italian though he doesn't have any type of accent. He has black hair,short blunt curls that fall over his forehead.He has brown eyes and a peach skintone. He looks incredibly clean cut but in a dark sense because he's wearing a black button up shirt with his sleaves rolled up revealing a tattoo of what looks like a bunch of roses covering most of his forearm surronundig a cross. If I wasn't so stressed out about finding the love of my life I would say he's one of the most attractive people I had ever seen.

Нis blаck hаir is tоusled just sо, аnd thе hint оf а smile plаys аt thе cornеrs оf his lips, sending а shivеr dоwn my sрine. Beside him stаnds аnоthеr mаn, equаlly аs аttrаctive but in а different wаy. Dressed in а slееk blаck suit. Fоr а momеnt, I'm speeсhless, cаught оff guаrd by thеir unexpeсted presenсe. Who аre thеy, аnd whаt аre thеy dоing hеre?

I wanted to run as fast as I could, but my knees wobbled, my chin trembled, and my body shivered. “He’s useless now. Nirvana, the daughter of Sophie, the descendant of Katzius. Do you know me?” His voice was echoey, as if we were in a theater. The man stopped just a yard away from where I stood. He was a black man, tall, in his fifties, but I had the feeling his age was ten times than his look, or maybe way older. He wore a classic brown suit with a scarf in its pocket. “Should I?” My voice shook.

In less than five moves, the tall man had already knocked down the guard. The other guards and Python went there when they saw their subordinate couldn't fight against him. When they came down there, they saw a tall man with a strong physique. He was wearing a completely black outfit and there was a black mask on his face. Only his forehead and eyes were visible. Python noticed that the person in front of them is not someone they are looking for. He has seen that doctor once. His physique and face were different from this man. This man is taller than that doctor.

Clearing his throat, he said, "Look Mr Man, whatever you want to do from now, count me out. I don't need your services anymore, you and your men should go and look for a better thing to do." Saying that he clenched his fist in anger and continued, "Goodbye, Mr Man and don't forget to wipe this number from your phone." He disconnected immediately, but in his mind, he was still praying that the group should continue with the job. Mr Black was hurting within himself because no man has ever intimidated him this much in his entire life. 'Who are those guys?' He asked in his mind and as he was doing that he fainted on the sofa at his back.

"I know you're in there." It's not Marcus. Relief and terror hit me at the same time, and I don't know which one wins. The shadow steps into view, and I see him. Not Marcus. Not Darius. Not anyone I want to see right now. It's a man I don't recognize—tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair slicked back by rain and a face that's too calm for someone standing in the middle of a war zone. He's wearing Blackstone colors, but he's holding something white in one hand.

the man says with a sad smile. Blossom? Where have I heard that name before? How do I know this man? Or how does he know me? He’s 5’7” with black hair that’s shaved at the sides and back, deep dark brown eyes, peachy-gold skin, a pointed nose, a sharp jawline, and rounded chin. He has a tattoo going down his left side and inside his left bicep. He’s only wearing a pair of sweatpants and he is covered in muscles.

"If you hurt her, I'll make sure you die here." The cruelty in his eyes was spine-chilling. The man in black shuddered, and his aura weakened. "Don't scare me!" He forced himself to be calm as he said, "Murder is illegal!" Kevan raised an eyebrow like he had heard something funny. "You think what you're doing right now isn't illegal?" "We're not the same!" The man in black said righteously. "I'm not a big-name president. The most that would happen to me is that I get jailed for a few years! I'm not going to lose anything!"

They leave and lock the doors. The door shuts and then this man drops me on a ground . He seriously has no manners. " I don't. " He replies. Shit. I must've said it out loud. " Yes, you certainly don't. Now, if you may excuse me , I am leaving." I make a move but an arm stops me. " Where are you going?" He asks. " None of your business. Who are you anyway?" He is dressed in black , from head to toe, something that doesn't matches with the aesthetic of this marvellous museum.

I opened the door—but didn’t step aside. He looked exhausted. Tie loosened. Jacket wrinkled. The man who never lost control looked like he’d been holding himself together with thread. “You shouldn’t be here,” I said. “I know,” he replied. “But you disappeared.” “I told you I needed space.” “You resigned from everything,” he said. “That’s not space. That’s exile.” I let out a slow breath. “It was survival.” He nodded slowly. “Then let me help you survive.” “No,” I said quietly.