Avatar Colonel Quaritch Novels & Stories

Their dresses billow behind them like banners caught in wind. Kiana trips slightly but catches herself, laughing instead of complaining. Always laughing. Always shining. I watch for a long moment, letting her happiness settle inside my chest like warmth. Then I push it aside. Happiness alone will not protect her. I must act. Arven’s name has lingered in my mind for weeks now. He is noble. Strong. From a family whose loyalty to our kingdom has never wavered, even in the darkest years. More importantly… He is kind.

Asher looked hopeful until he saw me smile. “I’m sorry, but the position of King has already been filled,” and I pulled off my jacket to reveal the mark that had grown into an intricate pattern down my shoulder and on to my arm. It had been steadily growing since Chase and I mated. Asher hissed and then looked up and growled. I didn’t need to look up to see that Chase was standing on the ridge with the other hybrids at his back. “You think that you and them are enough to take my whole pack on?” Malcolm sneered. “You will all die.” I glanced at him.

I held his eyes as I walked down to him. I curtsied before him and he stood up and took my hands. He helped me to my throne beside his. The crowd stood up and everybody began to mingle. "You look breathtaking" I blushed at him. "You don't look bad yourself" A small group of people came up to us and bowed. "I'm Galen, sub alpha of the south. We pledge our allegiance to King Alcius and Queen Esmeralda" "Rise" I smiled at them and they left. The next group came and bowed.

And today, timing was everything. I stepped out of the SUV before the engine even cut off, my boots crunching into gravel, the wind catching the hem of my black coat. The Blue Ridge warriors didn’t greet me, not properly. They stared, uncertain. I gave them a small smile, the kind that never quite touched the eyes. Let them wonder if I was here to start a war. Let Colten sweat behind those gold-plated walls of his. “Alpha Rogan of Oakwood Pack,” one of the guards called out finally, “You arrive without summons.”

one of them began, his tone cautious, "we bring news from the Four Clans." I straightened in my chair, narrowing my eyes at them. "Speak." "The Alphas have chosen their candidate, and the coronation has already taken place," the second sentinel said, his words clipped. "Ronan of the Blackstone Pack has been crowned." Ronan. The name rolled through my mind like a bitter poison. That arrogant pup had bested me before, and now he had claimed a title that should have been mine. My jaw tightened, but I refused to let my anger show. "Is that so?" I said coolly, steepling my fingers. "And what of my other concern? Any news on my rejected mate?"

The first column of her tactical romantic war had successfully secured its objective. "Good morning, everyone," Rebecca said, her melodic voice carrying a delightful, conspiratorial cheerfulness. "The hearth-space looks exceptionally well-guarded today, Kiarra." Valarian stepped out of the pantry, wiping a trace of flour from his calloused hand. He looked at the Queen, his jaw tightening slightly in a brief moment of old warrior pride, but the sheer happiness radiating off his massive frame made it impossible for him to look intimidating. He offered Rebecca a respectful, deeply grateful nod.

in this pack… “Um…So does this pack has any trueblood?” Charlotte asked impatiently. She needs to know who he was. She watched Matt as his expression changed to a guarded one…. He hesitantly answered, “ Yes…we do…” Charlotte held her breath to hear the answer… “Alpha Azraiel is a Trueblood…!”

The man wearing the Lieutenant’s uniform had what appeared to be seven combat badges stuck to his left breast. “Colonel Xerxes, delivering assigned Captain Aster Likaya. Sir!” Jovin announced himself, snapping a crisp salute which Aster replicated. The old Orsim bore no expression on his face, only a blank stare that seemed as pale as the white scars that sat on his green skin. But what Aster found strangest of all, was the lack of any clan markings on the man.

The shadows covered his face—but when he stood up, she parted her lips open. “You’re late,” Archon Quarth Ortel spoke, his dark voice traveled through the wide room. He wore the same suit from the feast earlier—black doublet with a ruby gem on his chest, and the blue cape tailing him as he climbed down the steps. Larice sharpened her eyes as she gripped her sword tightly. This was bad. Where’s Estes … and the Sun Guardes? She never thought she’d only find this hypocrite waiting for them. It should’ve been the Emperor … and she’s supposed to challenge him. But he’s nowhere to be found … and dawn was approaching. No one could ever stand a chance against the Emperor once the sun’s already up.

Torches lined the black stone walls, casting flickering light across the gathered warriors, their armor scarred from countless battles. At the head of the hall, lounging in a carved obsidian throne, sat Valerian—Alpha of the Night Walker Pack. He was a sight to behold. Rugged. Uncompromising. Every inch of him spoke of raw power and the relentless life he had lived. His hair was dark, thick, and untamed, falling just past his shoulders in careless waves. A jagged scar ran from the corner of his left brow down to the edge of his cheekbone, a mark of a battle he had won—and one he wore with pride. His jaw was strong, covered in a rough stubble that did little to hide the sharpness of his featu