Avatar Marines Novels & Stories

Arther was too busy for working and unfortunately, he really just liked the work activities that he had been doing so far about right now actually. And maybe, Arther even forget how to get relaxed for a while about back then actually. Moreover, apart from taking care of his job as a mafia, Arther also has to take care of his Pack. Yes, Arther is a werewolf. Arther is an Alpha of the Blake Light Pack. After all, those two things were still Arther's responsibility to do about.

Judy’s POV I found Marlo with the rest of the team towards the back of the packhouse. I could see the worried expressions on some of their faces, and it ate away at my stomach. We were a team of Elite Gamma Warriors; nothing was supposed to worry us. But the look they were sporting wasn’t confident. “Marlo, what is going on?” I asked, approaching my team leader. Marlo was a tall and bulky man with tattoos, and he constantly wore his armor and weapons. He turned when I approached him, his stern expression never wavering.

It fueled me, even as fear clawed at my gut. Storm and Jack flanked her, weapons ready. Milo was pale, knife shaking in his grip, but he didn’t falter. They would protect her if I couldn’t. And then he stepped out. Marcus. He moved through his soldiers like a king surveying peasants, every inch of him dripping with arrogance. His armor gleamed black in the torchlight, silver etchings curling like serpents across the breastplate. His smile cut sharper than any blade. “Well,” he drawled, voice rich and poisonous. “The wolf comes crawling into my den after all. I was starting to think you’d abandoned her.”

His presence filled the space before he even spoke. “Mrs. Blackthorn,” he said smoothly, his tone refined, charming even. “I hope I’m not intruding. I do intend to come on time when it is meetings like this.” I gestured for him to sit. “Not at all. You have me at a disadvantage, though. I don’t believe we’ve met. And given your scent, I can tell that you are not from here, Alpha.” He smiled, slow and confident, the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach the eyes. “Forgive me. Alpha Lorenzo D’Amaris. But I choose to go by Mr. D’Amaris when it is amongst humans.”

But a Marine, young, trained, and seasoned in combat, diplomacy, weapons, and tactics. Data streams on the screen, with pictures of an Arabian man. He wears a blaring yellow Agbada, which closes with golden buttons on his left side and golden, runic trimmings. Calum Beauchamp: Ali Batam, a perfect specimen. He ogles over the man's cool, dark features and lustrous onyx eyes in each picture. Halo chuckles under his breath, and Calum shakes his head with a sigh. Calum Beauchamp:

Have you got any juice today? I don’t know why I feel happy receiving his chat. I think for a while and reply to him. I got one. Alright, see you at the hospital I realized this is the worst appearance that I can give to my friend that will accompany me. Should I use some tint so I do not look so pale? How I wish I could take a bath though. So yeah maybe using tint is not a bad idea. I looked at my reflection in this tiny mirror, I look awful. The nurse didn’t help me to clean myself, they just provided me warm water, and how could I wipe my body with my hand being infused? Arthur will take a bit longer. Maybe I could change my shirts, even though my hair will not in its best smell. Arthur,

We slam onto the outer docking ring—boards biting metal hard, sparks flying, gravity shifting sudden. Airlock cycles forced by my lightning—sparks dancing across panels. We step inside. Armed marines in power armor swarm the corridor—rifles up, visors down, red targeting lasers dancing on our chests. **Marine Sergeant (barking, voice amplified):** “Hands up! Identify yourselves! This is restricted military space!” I step forward slow. Crown flaring bright—violet lightning crawling the walls harmless, just enough to short their targeting systems and fry nearby cameras.

Archer stands and paces a few steps, " It doesn't make you a bad person, you're the most kind and beautiful person I met and I want you to know it is never your fault. You were too young to fight off rouges and the moon goddess understands, you're strong and compassionate and someday I'm sure you fulfill every dream of yours. You're a warrior and I am proud to have you as my mate. He doesn't think it's my fault? The tears flow from my eyes and he comes back to me wiping them from my cheeks. " You never deserved any of this guilt my goddess and I promise I'm going to walk with you as you fight your demons and heal from your pain.

Her bow and arrow aimed at the target, she drew back her bow and let the arrow loose, and it drilled the target. A man with a huge build long pitch-black hair and sharp hazel eyes, in black leather armor and black leather boots with a blood stain Claymore, walked into the training yard. All the guards present there bowed and said, “Greetings, your highness Alpha King Theon”. Amaria rolled her eyes, took another arrow from her quiver, aimed at the target once again, drew the bow back, and let the arrow loose, but this time she missed the target. “ Shit! I missed” She cursed under her breath.

His anger showed in the form of his eyes flashing from blue to obsidian and back. "What my sister is trying to say," the pale, red-head intervened with a charming grin and raised hands—for the life of me, I couldn't see how the two were related, "for hers, your packs, and your own safety, its safer for her not to be near battle when she's not prepared for it. For the love of the Goddess, I can see the fear in her eyes," he turned his gentle smile on me with an exuberant wave, "hi, I'm Sylvain. Tania is my mate."