Villainous Black の小説・ストーリー

She was given a shot at what love and romance can be with a villain. A villain who offered her the contract she cannot reject. The very person who is sleeping soundly against her chest. The man named Navier. When novels and stories established that bad guys can fool you for their angelic looks and irresistible charms, they were not kidding about it at all. Now, dating the villain does not seem so bad... or does it?

My heels clicked against black marble as I stepped inside, the sound echoing back at me like a warning. “Miss Voss.” The voice came from the shadows to my left, low and velvet-rough. “You’re early.” I turned, clutching my small clutch like a shield. He leaned against the doorway in a perfectly tailored black shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, revealing ink and muscle. Damien Blackwood. Forty-two, according to the sparse information I’d found. Billionaire. Recluse. Owner of half the city’s secrets and, apparently, this entire building hidden behind an unassuming downtown façade.

I lifted my chin even higher. “And I will not let anyone. Annabelle Callahan, her dead mother, Ronan, Miranda Chen, or whatever puppet master stands behind them—take anything from me.” My reflection softened, transforming back into the woman people feared, envied, whispered about. Victoria Blackthorne. Cold. Calculated. Dangerous. I exhaled slowly and crossed the room, retrieving my phone from the floor. The screen was cracked, but functional. Fitting. A war was starting—of course something had to break.

Dylan feigned a hurt expression and placed his palm over his heart. “What? Do you work with him?” Dominique questioned. Dylan smirked. He was enjoying the game, “Have you seen him?” “No, never.” Dominique gave a straight answer but a frown settled on his brows when Dylan let out a dark chuckle. “Well then hello to you. I am the psychopathic Mafia Lord you were talking about.” He asserted and flashed Dominique a small smile but that only ceased his heartbeat. “W-What? That’s not possible.” Dominique couldn’t embrace reality. He was ’The Black”.

My family had covered it up perfectly, profiting from the new alliances while I rotted in an unmarked grave. Rage boiled inside me as I read further. The Blackthorn empire had only grown stronger. Damien Blackthorn, Kael’s older brother, was portrayed as a ruthless visionary. Billionaire Alpha. CEO of Blackthorn Group, controlling vast territories, businesses, and pack alliances across Africa and beyond. Photos showed a towering, devastatingly handsome man with sharp features, golden eyes, and an aura of pure dominance. My wolf whined traitorously at the images, drawn to his power even through a screen.

Ronan’s reasonable whisper was prompt ignored when it reached my ears where I was hunched over the frail woman, tracing my fingers over her arms in an effort to calm her. This was all my fault. I did this to her…me. Tiny black threads seeped in from the corners of her eyes, making the elite wolves who stood the closest gasp. Black arts. Did she have confessor powers too? No…no, that couldn't be. Confessor powers were bright white…black had to mean something else…something from The Darkness. “What on earth?” Laziel’s cold hiss came above me and a second later, a wide circle had cleared around us…the other wolves terrified of his rage.

The Sangue Lupos (Blood Wolf) Pack is a small pack of around 200 werewolves. Among them is the Pack-warrior Valentina Ivy Black, daughter of Enforcer Jonathan Black and pack wolf Kristin Black. Valentina stumbles upon some confidential information of a rogue pack who is working on the genetic morphing of the werewolf and temper with DNA to create volatile hybrids. What happens to her when she stumbles in trap herself while discreetly trying to find out about this rogue pack?

until I told him my mate's name. "Gabriel Black?" "Who is he, Jim?" Mom asked worriedly. "The Black family, are cruel, heartless Werewolves. They're close to Royalty, but only distantly - they are a part of the Werewolf Council. I'm not just talking about reputation, I mean - really mean - that they are ruthless, powerful, cold and evil. If you are his mate that means..."

Philip was surprised by his remark. While chatting, the two arrived at the old man’s room. As soon as he reached the door, Philip noticed black energy hovering in the room. Philip was extremely sensitive to this black energy. Although his level had been reduced to one star, his experience was not affected. More importantly, he had seen this black energy in the medical book in Verge Tower. It was called the Vile Black Cloud, an extremely strong voodoo poison. “Dad, I brought the doctor,” Preston yelled as he opened the door.

A villain with a glass of apple juice in his hands—instead of a throat-grating shot of scotch, or a bowl of fresh human blood. A villain, especially one with a hefty goal should have black as his ensemble. Not multicolored boxer shorts and flip flops. He was supposed to be in his chambers, peering at the mind maps he'd drafted. Not basking in the mild Tuscan sun. A villain that likened himself to the devil should have his lips stretched in a grim line as he went through his loan over and over and over again. He definitely shouldn't be grinding lips with a scantily clad lady.