Captain Cold Arrow Novels & Stories

“How long have you known I’m not Marley?” “You think I’m stupid?” “No, I—” “You’re Marley’s roommate,” he continued, and how accurate he was left me gagged. “You agreed to stand in for her.” There was no way out of this. I needed to bury my pride and solve this reasonably. He was a hockey captain. He had a reputation. The looks. Possibly power. Who knew what he could do? So I huffed a laugh, then turned to face him like we were really good friends. “Of course you can’t be fooled, you’re Vinn Graham,” I forced a smile. “I was totally expecting that.”

“We need every hand ready. There is no room for hesitation when we march.” He bowed. “Understood.” I turned and walked across the yard, feeling the crunch of gravel beneath my boots. To one side, a group of archers stood in a loose line, each holding a shortbow. Their arms moved with practiced precision, drawing arrows and letting them fly into distant targets planted in the wall beyond. I recognized their Westwind wood arrows, they carried a faint golden glint, designed to blind the eye in bright daylight. “Captain Trell,” I said to the archer commander, young but hungry for victory. He stood ramrod straight, fletching arrows with care. “Your bowmen, how many can shoot true at a hundred pac

The lifeless symbols seemed to be singing some kind of sacred chant among themselves. So far, flame trident has always taken the first spot among all the Soul-Armas in terms of appearance, but now the Cursed Arrow has now stolen its spot. Despite such a phenomenal appearance, Creed didn’t even bat an eye at the poor arrow. He was busily glistening at the ball of icy blue flame, craving to burn everything that comes in contact. Inside this ball of flame sat a living, breathing creature that almost took his breath away.

The pitch black color muddled with purple glossy shimmer was singing the wails of its precision and power. A harmonious blend of two highly sought-after materials from two distinct advanced civilizations, these arrows are a true representation of what can be achieved when worlds collide. A hybrid unparalleled strength and flexibility. "Gosh!! They look gorgeous…," Creed muttered with awe while examining the arrows. "And they're quite sturdy too!" "Awesome. So, 245 arrows… hmm. If I can use one arrow three times, then it should last me 2-3 hunts," he calculated. His digital watch suddenly rang, breaking his concentration. It was Rolin, confirming the delivery. Creed answered immediately.

"My name is Roel And I work here, as a doctor and as a mentor. You don't need to panic, we are going to take care of you, and help you come to terms with who you are, while we figure out exactly what you remember. Is that okay?" He speaks so calmly, so kindly, that I can't help but relax. "We are so happy to have you home, Avila. This is truly a blessing," Crimson murmurs, clutching my hand as a single tear rolls down her cheek. Home. What a horrifying thought.

The tall one had blonde hair, brown eyes, a bag over his shoulders and daring look while the other had blue hair with blue eyes, his face was cute, like a fallen angel. “That’s Emory and Marsh, Emory is the captain of the hockey team” Xyla whispered in my eyes, it felt like talking about them openly would inquire consequences. I looked over at them, their seat were aligned. Emory sat behind Marsh. A part of the hockey team, I thought about it, seeing them made me excited, I couldn’t wait to apply for the hockey team. “Marsh is the right defenseman” Adele added. I nodded, then she leaned closer.

His knowledge for weapons and ammunition were out of this world. Arrow, also known as Aaron Nelson, nudged me with his shoulder as he sat next to me. He didn’t need to say anything. I knew I would see him later and he would fuck the anger out of me. At work we were strictly coworkers, but outside of work, he was my personal porn star. Who could say no to blonde hair and dark eyes. He looked like Justin Hartley as Oliver queen which just made his nickname even more ironic. He was the most skilled archer in the world. Guns were nothing to him. He was more lethal with an arrow. He truly was a real life superhero with not only his skill on the team, but also in the bedroom.

He snapped a wrist shot into the top corner of the net so hard the black puck rattled violently inside the twine. Ethan slammed his stick against the plexiglass in celebration, cheering. Damon coasted backward, turning toward the stands to wipe sweat from his brow with his glove. His dark eyes scanned the perimeter until they locked onto me standing by the tunnel. Even from fifty feet away across a crowded ice rink, I saw his entire demeanor shift. The ruthless, cutthroat captain melted away. A tiny, quiet smile touched his lips—a private, subtle look meant entirely for me. My betraying heart gave a sudden, painful flutter. I couldn't help it. I smiled back.