Marcus Black の小説・ストーリー

"She's mine. And she's completely off-limits to a piece of trash like you." The entire room went dead silent. Even the band stopped playing. Marcus tried to laugh it off, but his voice was shaky. "Yours? You think the Blacks can just claim her? She’s nothing to you. For all I know, you all just want one thing. To use her against me. And if she had any cell left in her brain, she'd know that she's nothing but a rag you need to rub on me till I'm all dirtied. Am I wrong?”

It should be illegal to look this nerve wrecking. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a patch of clear slightly tanned skin. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off the prominent veins that ran up his back hand. I felt the breath hitch in my wind pipes as our eyes met, his mesmerizing green stare made my cheeks flush and my knees go weak, it was like I was paralyzed as I stood there while his eyes still roamed me. "I don't think I've introduced myself. Damon Blackwood" his husky voice made my heart rate pick up. A smirk crawled unto his features as he stretched out a hand for me and I just stared in awe, his words sinking in.

"If you're in there... please. It's me." The figure stepped down into the singular pool of light cast by the flickering bulb. It wasn't Mathias. Marcus Blackthorn came down the stairs smoothly, not like a wolf thumping down, but with a graceful movement that felt strange to see. He moved like water running downhill....quiet and unstoppable. He adjusted his silk cuffs as he reached the bottom landing, his expression bored, but his eyes... his eyes were flashing a deep, crimson red before slowly fading back to their usual dark, distrustful brown.

"I do," "Let's all hear it for the new Beta of the moonshine pack John Richards!" Marcus bellows out across the crowd while everyone cheers and whistles out to him. Marcus then calls the second guy onto the stage. His shoulder-length black hair is tied back in a bobble, and his eyes are a light brown and go well with his tanned skin tone, he's muscular but not as big as John but still fairly big. Marcus repeats the same conversation with Thomas only this time he's announcing him as the new Gamma and again everyone goes wild for them. Once all the formalities are out of the way and they have sat back down the music starts up and the party begins.

But instead of helping Marcus, Blackwood called me to give me the information. "Elena? This is Richard Blackwood. I hope you remember me from Sterling Investments." My heart stopped. That was my voice responding: "Of course, Mr. Blackwood. How can I help you?" "I just received the strangest phone call from Marcus Martinez. He was asking for money, claiming he needed help getting back on his feet. I wanted to let you know in case he tries to contact you directly." "Thank you for the warning. What did you tell him?" "I told him exactly what I thought of him. That he was a thief and a liar who destroyed innocent people's lives. I told him that his reputation in this city is so toxic that no leg

For a brief moment, amusement crossed his face, but he quickly pushed it away as if even that little crack in his tough exterior could unravel him. “Most people don’t race against Marcus Blackthorn,” he finally replied. “What’s so special about Marcus? Other than his charming personality and psychotic tendencies?” This time, Kane looked at me, and I caught a glimpse of gratitude in his expression before he fixed his attention back on the winding mountain road. “Marcus doesn’t like to lose,” he said. “And he has resources that make losing... complicated.” Resources. Like the men who moved too quickly, the eyes that glowed in the dark, and the shapes I had seen

This figure was moving with something different — measured, commanding, directing the wolves around him with the particular authority of someone who is not following a plan but managing one. I pushed through the smoke and got closer and my blood went cold. Marcus Black. I knew him. I had sat across a negotiating table from him twice in the last three months while his representatives outlined proposals for managing the rogue problem in the northern territories. I had committed resources to those conversations — time, intelligence, good faith. Tobias had flagged him as a potential genuine partner and I had agreed that the preliminary signals were positive. He wa

Need to talk. Marcus stared at it. His best friend. The man who'd saved his life when his heart stopped. The man who was now in his house, with his wife, looking at her with eyes that Marcus recognized because he'd once looked at her the same way. With desire. He deleted the text without responding and turned off his phone. Some conversations were better left unheard. In the darkness, Marcus Black made a decision. He didn't know what, exactly. But something was building in him, a storm of rage and grief and fear that would eventually demand release.