Colonel Christopher Brandon Novels & Stories

Brandon’s voice came through, entirely devoid of warmth. “It’s… It’s uh, Nathaniel. Nathaniel Price.” A long minute passed in complete silence before the command came. “Come in.” I turned the knob and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me. Brandon was seated behind a massive mahogany desk, documents scattered before him. He didn’t look up, keeping his eyes fixed on his work. The sheer aura of his dominance filled the room, making my wolf want to curl up and hide. “You have five minutes, Nathaniel,” Brandon said, finally raising his head. His expression was a mask of cold indifference. “What is so urgent that you had to blow up my phone like that?”

Is this real? ‘Brandon is going down! This is insane!’

“You may leave now.” “But Captain, your legs—” Before he could finish, Dean interrupted him. “Stop talking already. Just get back to work!” Brandon got out of the ward, his steps floaty, and he felt extremely bad. His colleague, Ollie Barker, was still leaning against the wall in the hallway, waiting for him. The two of them had a field mission this afternoon. Ollie looked at Brandon and was surprised to see him grit his teeth with reddened eyes. “What is wrong, mate? Did Captain Singleton scold you? Look at you.”

His canine teeth were still extended, wet with the evidence of his treason. "Oh, hell! Luke!" Brandon barked, his voice cracking with a coward’s despair. He threw his arms over his waist as if he could shield the truth. "It’s not what it looks like. We were just... the heat... it just happened." Just happened. Like a lunar eclipse. Like a thunderstorm. Repeatedly. On my floor. "Luke, let me explain." My ears were joining the conspiracy now. That was definitely Brandon’s voice—the quarterback of the Coastal team, the man who was supposed to be my Alpha.

He smirked down at me, the spitting image of Asher, only with messier hair and crystal blue eyes. The lights in the hallway were bright, making my eyes ache, but I could still smell the alcohol that wafted off of Brandon in waves. Rich amber and notes of thick honey, definitely some kind of whiskey. He wasn't piss drunk, not by far, but he had consumed more than enough to affect your average male wolf. "Just mumbling about a dream I had." I said a bit harsher than I meant, but he was blocking the bathroom door with his frame. Both Claire and Killian had agreed it was better not to tell Brandon the truth. At least, not until the big announcement. Apparently, the man couldn’t keep a secret to

he replied looking back at Imogen before looking down at the train, pootling down the city. “Where are you?” “The safe house.” “Okay be there in two, ” he assured. Brandon is the doctor to the pack. He is also a werewolf who is 200 years old. He looks extremely young and handsome. His short curly hair, black eye, sophisticated lips said it all. He looks very breathtaking. Oliver threw his phone on the other sofa and held his hand groaning in pain, he sprawled on the sofa and rested his back before sighing. Suddenly the table in front of him screeched. He tumbled to the back of the chair in reflex and looked at the table which was looking absolutely normal.

When Beta Chris found me in the kitchen sobbing he was clearly out of his realm. He explained what Elder Jonah had said and it wasn't even that big a deal. I wiped away my tears as I listened to him explain that Braddock has a thing about age and that he was feeling like a pervert because I wasn't 18.

In a family defined by massive egos, volcanic tempers, and enough shredded muscle to fill a stadium, you needed someone to keep the pot from boiling over. Brandon wasn't just some impulsive brawler, though. At 6’4”, with heavy shoulders and a frame built for impact, his prowess on the ice was undisputed. Along with Viktor Petrov, he formed the defensive spine of the Stormbreakers—Viktor was the silent sentinel, while Brandon was the life of the party. That lifestyle hadn't been an issue until a certain elegant journalist decided to splash Brandon’s late-night exploits across a digital front page, earning him a half-season suspension for "conduct detrimental to the pack."

“Do you know who the woman you just touched is? She’s the daughter of Arianna Mackenzie, which you know, she’s gonna rain down hell on you when she finds out what you just did. Well that aside, do you know who she is to me? Huh? She’s my wife. MY WIFE! MY WIFE!! And do you know who I am?……” Brandon paused as his look changed into an angry one. “Let me introduce myself again, my name is Brandon Colby. I run this town and I make the rules of this town, and I always win. You mess with my wife and you see the other side of me” Brandon said, this time his looks became so scary. He held Holland's hand and twisted his hands making him scream.

He's a handsome man but he's uptight because of his serious and unsmiling face. The first time I looked at him, I knew we wouldn't get along. If I could work with him we would definitely have a lot of things to fight about. "One more thing. Just like you, Brandon is a soldier too. He was born and raised in America. His father is a colonel and when Brandon grows up, he followed the foot steps of his beloved father. So for sure you two will get along, " informed Amanda and winked slightly.