Marauders Novelas e Histórias

“I need answers. Tell me who they were.” “I don't know how to explain it,” she began in a scared voice. “You probably won’t even believe me.” “Try me,” Damon whispered. Mara drew in a deep breath, and she pulled up the blanket on the bed to wrap it around her shoulders. “They were hunters. Werewolf hunters…They call themselves Vortex.” Damon frowned. The name sounded so weird and unfamiliar to him. “I’ve heard of hunters, but I've never heard of this VORTEX.”

Monolith’s death—guard her, kill! Mara moved right, cropped black hair glinting under a hood, brown eyes fierce, dagger drawn, its blade gleaming, palm scar raw but steady. Her leather tunic was slashed, arm bandage tight, guilt over Milo fueling her rage, Jasper’s warmth her root, Sam’s trust her blade. The iron scent choked her, runes’ hum a taunt, the monolith a target. Ember, her wolf, growled, fiery, tail lashing. She’s pack, Mara. Blood binds—cut, guard!

The second fought with hunger, with wicked delight, as though every blow only sharpened him. And Mara—Mara was the fire between them. Her pulse raced, her breath shallow, as she realized the truth. She wasn’t just caught in their war. She was the prize. And both of them were willing to burn for her. The fight spilled across the cabin. The table overturned, chairs splintered, the knife kicked under the bed. Thunder rolled outside, drowning their curses. The first slammed the second into the wall, teeth bared, spit flying. “She doesn’t want you—”

But at the moment, I’d much rather be involved with bringing down a werewolf-run drug running operation instead of a vampire-inflicted human homicide bordering pack lands. “Detective Fergeson, it’s nice to meet you. I’m sorry it has to be under these conditions.” I say, turning to shake his hand. “I’m Alpha Scarlett, the Alpha of the Crimson Snow Pack and these,” I point to Bree and Dax, “these are my Gamma and Lead Warrior, Bree and Dax.” Motioning to the others, I tell him, “this is Blake, Serafina, Theo and Conan, four more of my warriors. And this is Tasha and Channing, two of my trackers. Channing is the one who found the deceased.” I hear someone clearing their throat near me. “Oh, for

Mara screamed. “We were,” Torren said, cutting down an Ironwood fighter. “Then we decided we hated you more than we disagreed with each other.” The battle turned immediately. Ironwood forces found themselves surrounded. Outnumbered. Trapped between the settlement’s defenders and the alliance’s reinforcements. They broke. Ran. Scattered into the forest pursued by alliance wolves. Mara stood alone in the center of chaos. Her army destroyed. Her plans ruined. Alina walked toward her. Sword raised.

Aaron wanted me. “Come on!” Mara bellowed from the edge of the ring, throwing a dagger that struck one of the corrupted wolves. Her voice cut through the static in my skull like a blade. Fight, she seemed to say. Don’t listen. I did not listen. I burned. Fire rose not in the frantic splashes of earlier battles but in slow, measured columns, the sort of control Mara had beaten into me until my hands remembered it like a muscle. The warding glyphs flared, trying to stitch themselves to my flame, to turn it and feed. They hissed and twisted. I felt the pull at my wrists—like a leash attempting to doodle its loops into my bones—but I tugged the other way.

My grandmother was bleeding from multiple wounds, her movements becoming sluggish. We were losing. Then the factory wall exploded inward. Not from specialists. From something else. Wolves poured through the breach. Not pack wolves. Not specialists. Rogues. Dozens of them. Moving with coordinated purpose that suggested this was not random. This was planned. Leading them was a figure I recognized from Dante's club. Mara. She shifted to human form, weapons blazing. "Moretti sends his regards. And a reminder that anyone who attacks his assets faces consequences."

Mara flinched, a sound stuck behind her teeth. “This is neutralizer,” Wren said. “It won’t erase the burn, but it keeps it from spreading into the bloodstream. Silver doesn’t just cut. It contaminates.” “Contaminates what?” Mara snapped. “Everything it touches,” Wren answered, calm. “Wolves blister. As much as you will deny this, there is a chance you have wolf blood in your history. If you’re carrying anything dormant, it aggravates it.” Mara’s gaze flicked to her wrapped forearm like it had betrayed her. Good. Let her fear the right thing.

I whispered. “It is,” she said gently. Ruin remained beside me, silent and watchful. “You disappeared ten years ago,” Mara continued. “We thought you were dead.” My head spun. “I do not remember you,” I said. “You will,” she replied. “Because they are coming back for you.” “Who?” I asked. Mara looked at Ruin. “The Bratva,” she said. The room fell silent. “Ivan is only the messenger,” Mara continued. “The real hunters are already moving.”

Maya and Vishous were madly in love with each other. Mostly because of the satisfaction they received from their various s*x adventures. Both of them were werewolves. Maya was a beautiful nineteen year old girl, turning twenty in a week. She was going to find her mate then. Everyone in werewolf world was supposed to find their mate once they were twenty years old. Maya was a little shy but adventurous when it came to sex. She was is personal s*x doll. A toy that he could lick and f**k however and whenever he wanted and she would still beg him for more.