Jace Targaryen Novels & Stories

“Yes. That is what I want to see. That is what you are meant to be. Now finish him.” Inside me, the reflection howled like a wild thing. Do it. Burn him. Kill him before he kills you. This is what you were born for. My heart pounded so fast I thought it would break me. Across the ruined ground, Jace stood there, bloody and torn. His chest was covered in glowing runes, brighter than fire. He did not move. He did not try to hide. He only looked at me. “Aria,” he said, his voice rough and broken, but it carried through the smoke. “Do it.”

"Go! I signaled my pilot to fly the girl and the medical team away, and I remained behind to deal with the soldiers. I had already mindlinked my beta and asked him to send the military force in case a war were to begin. I am a Lycan. I am the strongest of all, so killing all those men singlehandedly was a piece of cake for me, but still, I chose to involve my military. I knew sending back the corpses of his men would only humiliate him more because he would be left wondering why his a hundred and something men were defeated by a single person. "What brought you to my kingdom?" I asked as more of the troop trooped closer to me.

He knows more about Linda than I do, but that's only right, as he had been a part of her pack and they had grown together. Jace's father was the Alpha of the Bloodless Pack, a name chosen by his bloodline to signify their pacifism. They were the most peaceful pack in the region and only took up arms when something threatened the peace of the pack or the region as a whole. Linda's father, Grey, was the Beta to his father, and they both grew up as friends. That was until tragedy struck when Jace was seven and his father was killed in an enemy ambush—or so they say. The supposed enemies were never identified, even until now.

Was Jace really Dominic’s adopted son—or was he something far more dangerous? A pawn. A weapon. The lost bloodline of the Chevre, raised in the heart of their enemy’s house. The implications twisted through the decades of bitter feud, alliances broken, and lives destroyed. Jace Grey was no accident. He was the result of a gamble played by men who dealt in secrets. And now, knowing the truth, the observer smiled—cold, calculating. The game had just changed.

Jacob approached me as I walked into the kitchen. “So what’s the deal boss, why are we here?” I grabbed the bottle of scotch from the self and a glass. I poured myself a glass and sipped it. Jacob stared at me waiting for an answer. I flashed a devilish grin at him. “We are going to war.” He looked at me, confused. “With who and why?” I finished my drink and set the glass down. “Joseph King. He shouldn’t have double-crossed me.”

Despite being the alpha's son, Clay remained calm and composed, carefully evaluating the situation and contemplating how best to confront his future alpha. As the battle raged on, Joric's aggression persisted, and Clay maintained a poised defense. Matteo discerned Clay's calculated approach, assessing the possibility of overcoming his future alpha and strategizing accordingly. Noticing Joric's fury, Clay understood the reason behind it, having learned about Joric's misguided claim on Freya. With a knowing smile exchanged at just the right moment, Clay anticipated the impending attack from Joric.

*Why did he have to be so cruel? Jace Storm had been my tormentor for as long as I could remember, but something about this morning felt different. Worse. When I'd bumped into him—God, I was so clumsy—there had been something in his eyes that I'd never seen before. Something that made my stomach flutter in the most confusing way. Which was ridiculous. Jace Storm was everything I wasn't—confident, popular, devastatingly handsome. He was the future Alpha, destined to lead our pack, while I was just the keeper's daughter. We existed in completely different worlds, and he made sure I never forgot it.

Very overwhelming. Jace is a human lie detector. He’s never been wrong. Jace is another reason we’ve always known that the stories of ole are lies. Being selected to be a mate in a harem is a direct blessing from the Gods. We’ve always known the truth, we didn’t share it with others, but we knew.

“Convergence, bridge of realms, you seek the blade. Prove your worth, or perish.” My wings unfurl, lunar light flaring, but the construct’s gaze pierces me, and the forge shifts. I’m no longer in the citadel—I’m in a Conclave chamber, centuries ago, Elara’s lunar mark glowing, her voice pleading. “Don’t trust Taryn,” she says, her amber-silver eyes meeting Jorah’s. “His Veilbinder pact with Voren will doom us.” Jorah’s aura, primal and steady, falters as Taryn steps from the shadows, his blade striking Elara’s heart. She falls, silver blood pooling, and Jorah roars, claws slashing, but Taryn’s shadows overwhelm him. I scream, my claws slashing air, but it’s a vision, a memory, and the constr

“Go, prepare my dark shadow dagger. Get me more about this Edith Walson.” I responded as I walked away angrily and anticipating that day when I will put an end to the one man who keeps causing lot of havocs. “Can't you make peace with him instead of going up for a fight?” Snow Darcy pleaded as she walked into the room. “Make peace? I am Jace Steele, an original and I cannot be killed.” “An original, because you are a hybrid? Huh?” Her question shocked me as I squinted my eyes a bit.