Blackbeard Vs Ace Novels & Stories

Ace murmured knowingly, "that head of yours is too dark for you to go down that road. You're walking a fine line and you're leaning toward the dark side." I drew my lips into a thin line, not giving a thought to his words because if I did, I would realize how right those words were and guilt would creep in. Instead, I deflected the conversation, "Do you think it will work?" "Sure," Ace shrugged a shoulder, pulling up to the curb in front of a restaurant, "if I'm there I'll make the bastard hang himself in a heartbeat. And if anyone had to ask why I was at the house my response would be visiting a friend."

I braided my hair and tucked it under a cap when I needed to look like no one; I let it fall when the city wanted a story. And I stayed downwind, always downwind, so far that even his wolf, if it lifted its head, would smell only rain promising itself. The first time was at the docks. Steel skeletons clanged against a sky refusing to thunder. Men moved like chess pieces with nowhere to go but forward. Ace stood on the pier with two of his captains, black shirt sleeves rolled, forearms lined with scars earned and not spoken of. He didn’t bark. He didn’t need to. The water listened.

If I ask him to stop, I know I’ll regret it—however reckless it may sound. But this isn’t surrender. This is strategy. Instead of answering, I raise my chin and press my mouth to his—not soft, not yielding, but a clash of heat and teeth. It’s not romantic. It’s war. And Zeke kisses back like he’s claiming territory. His grip tightens. A low sound rumbles in his chest, something between a groan and a growl. When he breaks the kiss, his eyes are darker than before, darker than sin. “Well,” he breathes, “maybe you’re not just a pretty pawn after all.”

The other two wolves didn't stand a chance. Within minutes, they were running, disappearing into the forest with their tails between their legs. I sat on the ground where I'd fallen, shaking uncontrollably, unable to look away from the massive black wolf standing over James's unconscious form. This was Ace. The man who'd been so gentle with me, so careful, so kind. He was a monster. Just like James had said.

Edward shoved me and was about to struggle with me. "Please let me go! You old man!" I yelled and tried everything I could to get his hand off my neck because he would struggle me to death. I saw Ace come over to our location. He was wearing his black vest, his red mask with a flame design, and his combat gloves and weapons. He grabbed Edward on his back and punched him in the face with a straight punch; I stood up and saw him bring a baseball bat. His outfit wall was all black with a flame design; I could see the great physic of his body as he prepared to fight. **

"I was just trying to get what's rightfully…" He didn't get to finish the line as Ace untangled me from him and stormed towards him, connecting his fist with Warner's jaw. A faint crack reached my ears. With a hiss when he fell on the ground, Ace grabbed his collar and pulled him up. "You fucking piece of shit! You dared to touch my Rosebud!" His thunderous roar echoed throughout the hotel room, making me flinch. His almost dark orbs flared with untamed rage, redness spread across his face and neck when the veins of his temple stood up with him shaking with anger.

he asked, his tone light and full of mirth but his eyes sharp and assessing under his heavy brows. "Actually, he is newly mated and doing well by all accounts." Brand tried to control the anger and sarcasm in his voice. This man would surely pay for his insolence. "I'm sure they'll have young in no time at all." Brand crossed his arms over his chest, flung his hair out of his eyes and stood to his full impressive height. He may not be the Alpha of his clan, despite his machinations, but he was still a Sköll warrior. He would not let anyone insult him, or his clan – no matter their rank. His wolf paced within him in indignation. It took an extreme act of will not to simply let the beast out t

And will always be. —----------------------------------------- Ace’s POV I debated cancelling Angel's airplane ticket several times last night. I knew and recognized that she had finally realized the painful truth. The previous Ace Kingston wouldn't have cared, seeing it as an opportunity to increase the savagery. But the new Ace, George Brooks, questioned how he'd deal with her.

“Well, it's indeed a matter of life and death, Damon.” “We don't even know each other yet.” Beck sounded like he had just returned from his own world. “It's … too fast.” “You have time. Use it wisely.” Reggie took a sip of his wine, then cut another steak. Of all the people here, only Reggie still had an appetite. “So, when … will this competition start?” Ace asked confidently. I and the other Blackwood Brothers looked at the man in astonishment.

He looked down at Bluey's hand on my hip, the veins in his fists bulging until his knuckles turned a deathly white. "I don't care who or what the hell you are," Ace hissed, his voice dropping into a low, demonic Alpha register that vibrated straight through the ground beneath my sneakers. He stepped forward, his massive chest nearly brushing Bluey's shoulder as he stared him down with a murderous intent. "Take your fucking hands off my girlfriend before I make sure you never play ever again."