Dark Stiles Novels & Stories

"Love?... Love!" He growled and I jumped back with a scream when he smashed the flower vass on the floor. I looked at him scared when he jerked me forward. "You know what he did to my sister?" Angry tears slipped from his eyes. Oh god! "Grace is not in love with him..." He gritted. "He blackmailed her because that innocent girl wanted to pay off the loan for the man who is not even her family... Stuart took huge amount of loan from Dominick and Grace went to save him... That mothefucker blackmailed her, forced her...."

“No.” He furrowed his brows. “Sir?” “There's another club out there. Styx. Their auxiliary base. Tonight half of the lieutenants who weren't at Cage are drinking there.” He paused. “Can I warn the men?” I was already walking away before he could finish. “Severe their left hands and imprint my name on their foreheads.” Matteo nodded. We took a quicker route and soon we were there. With its flashing blue neon and magnificent structure.Styx was all glass and elegance. Externally it appeared to be just another place where wealthy people went to lose their identity. It smelled of betrayal and blood money on the inside. When I got down, some of my men were already there.

It was the kind that didn’t fall. It descended—like a predator. Every wolf went still, ears lowering instinctively. Bootsteps echoed. One-two-three. From the rear of the chamber—five figures entered. Hybrids. Not wolves. Not vampires. Something forged from both bloodlines—stronger, rarer, feared. The audience parted without instruction. Dave Stark walked at the center. Tall. Severe. His tailored black suit hugged shoulders built to carry kingdoms. His hair—dark as obsidian—fell in loose strands over eyes carved in storm-gray stone. He was the kind of beautiful that hurt to look at. Sunlight through stained glass. Death wrapped in silk.

With each sway of her hips and flick of her leg, she made sure to draw attention to the most suggestive angles, flaunting herself in front of both Kenny and Paige. From the control booth, I had been waiting for this moment. I inserted the USB drive and double-clicked the file, revealing an unedited, scandalous video on the large screen behind the stage. To enhance the shock, I muted the video's audio, leaving the lively Latin dance music to continue playing. When Paige saw the explicit scenes on screen, her expression shifted from calm to trembling fury. Lindsey, oblivious to the video playing behind her, mistook Paige's reaction for embarrassment at her mesmerizing dance.

The path to the Sacred Chamber, where the gemstone lay hidden, had been poisoned. I steadied my breath and pressed on, the handle of my blade tight in my grip. A thick mist began to roll in. From the mist, a low growl erupted. I spun to face it. A creature crawled from the shadows—skeletal, tall as two men, its body made of bone and black mist. Grave Stalker. It screeched and pounced. I barely dodged in time, rolling across cold stones. I swung my spirit-steel blade, catching its side. It retaliated with sharp claws that sliced my shoulder. I screamed and stumbled.

But the anger and heartbreak stabbed so deep that I couldn't bring myself to turn away. Enduring the torture and turmoil, I forced myself to walk toward the observatory doors. They were slightly ajar. I held my breath to press close and listen through the gap. Serena's cloying and clingy voice came from inside. She teased coyly, "Professor Thorne, you seem to especially like seeing me in red." Lucas' voice followed, low and tinged with slight exasperation. "Keep it down... Someone might stumble upon us." "What's there to be afraid of?" Serena drawled, her tone deliberately sulky. "It's so late. No one's around."

Derek Stygian’s stripper's club was bathed in a deep red light. The kind that makes everything look darker than it really was. Shadows moved along the walls as slow music played through hidden speakers, the bass low and steady like a heartbeat. The air felt hot with sin, heavy with smokes of their cigarettes, filled with sweat of the male strippers and the tables were filled with expensive alcohol. Not everyone in the city was allowed into Stygian's secret cult. Only those who are ready to sell their soul for discretion are allowed in.

‎ ‎I raised my right hand, and the Sun-Iron stairs didn't just glow—they began to shift, the metal steps twisting upward like a iron cage, sealing the twelve Stalkers onto the narrow vertical platform. ‎ ‎"Kael," I whispered. "Clear the board." ‎

Will she achieve her goal or become a pawn in his sick world? Once again, you have been warned and can turn back if you are uncomfortable with the warning. Welcome to The Silent Stalker!