Marc X Nathaniel Novels & Stories

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but my mom doesn’t need any further stress. She just lost her husband. So, I will ask one more time, who is this?” “My name is Nathaniel. I-,” he cut me off before I could finish my sentence. “I know who you are, Nathaniel. Why are you just now calling?” he growled. “I’m sorry, but I really am just calling to check in on Dominique. I don’t mean to cause any trouble.” “She’s at Dad’s grave on the pack lands. As much as I don’t like it, I know mom would probably like to see you. So I will tell my wolves to stand down and let you pass.”

As if nothing ugly could survive exposure. “They’re wrong,” he said. “On multiple levels.” Marcus waited. “I don’t tolerate clumsy power,” Nathaniel continued. “Especially when it harms people who don’t know how to shield themselves from it.” “You want pressure applied?” Marcus asked. “Yes,” Nathaniel said. “Proportionate.” Marcus’s brow lifted slightly. Proportionate, from Nathaniel Crosswell, was a warning. “No humiliation,” Nathaniel went on. “No spectacle. I want correction. Quiet. Surgical. Enough that Margaret Hawthorne understands she misread the board.”

They are gathering, plotting, waiting. Nathaniel paces behind me, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. His arm is still in a sling, but he moves like a man who has forgotten the pain. He wants to go. He wants to leave tonight. He wants to fly to Switzerland, confront Crane, and end this once and for all. I see it in the set of his jaw, the fire in his eyes. Marcus sits across from me. His face is hard, his eyes tired, dark circles underneath. He has been staring at the photograph for five minutes without speaking, his coffee growing cold beside him. The fire crackles in the wood stove. The shadows dance on the walls.

Marcus said, glaring at me. “He is an Alpha, and you are not my elder. The wolves and Lycans have decided that long ago” “We came here with a proposal, and considering that Nathan is your friend, we believed that maybe we could learn his tricks” Marcus said confidently. I raised an amused eyebrow and watched as Katerina fought to shake her head at his choice of words.

He looked thankful to Nathaniel for helping him and I was equally relieved too. Mark, who had been watching silently, murmured, “This wasn’t our fault.” “Mark, apologize,” My uncle ordered. Mark grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue. My uncle turned to Nathaniel’s brother and said, “I’m deeply sorry for the trouble. It won’t happen again. It wasn't intended at all.” Nathaniel was still staring at me. Did he realize we were mates as well? Or was it something else? Did he recognize me as his old enemy, Alec?

He's cut off by Maximilian. "Am I wrong? Has this motherfucker really written shit about me in that stupid thrift store book?" Maximilian glances at the notepad for a moment, which prompts Alexander to make a sudden attack on him. Maximilian moves further away from the situation while dodging like the freaking Flash. He begins to read aloud. "My old friend Nathaniel Everhart is a dad. The lucky son of a bitch had a son. Lancelot Everhart. Sounds like some royal bullshit from a fairytale."

You don't move on from the person who holds half your soul. Marcus found me when I was sixteen, after my parents died in another attack. He took me in, trained me, taught me how to control the wolf inside me, how to fight, how to survive in a world that wanted us dead or enslaved. He was a good mentor, patient and skilled. But he never understood my obsession with finding Ava. "She's gone, Roger," he'd tell me, over and over. "Her family went deep into hiding. Even if you found her, approaching her would put her in danger. The hunters are still looking for you both. Your connection makes you targets."

Walking around in almost nothing, happy to do whatever was in their power to please the men… Not for her… Absolutely not for her… AJ, Tristan, Jarred and Max all showed up. They sat outside and the women all knew to be there ready for whatever way this was going to play out. “I still can’t believe it…” Jarred shook his head. Marla was serving the men drinks. Lillianna quickly poured AJ a scotch and handed it to him. “Yeah…” Tristan nodded his head. “Is he dead?” Max now. “He wishes he was.” AJ replied shrugging his shoulders. “Out of all the people in the world, he had to be a cop? I fucking liked him man…” Jarred said. It felt like somebody had spilled icy cold water down her spine. Paul? N

she pressed. Nathan hesitated, as if weighing how much to say. “The Gray cousins… Marcus and Alexander. They’re both talking to me, but not to each other. It’s like I’m the only thing preventing total silence. The air is so tense you could cut it with a knife. It’s maddening.” He let out a nervous chuckle, but quickly sobered. “Honestly, Marcus usually doesn’t try to ingratiate himself with Alexander. It’s weird. And Alexander… he talks to me, but never looks at me directly. It’s like he’s afraid to meet my eyes.”

Marcus turned on his heel and walked out of the office, letting the heavy glass door click shut behind him. Nathan stood alone in the quiet room, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths. He pulled his private encrypted phone from his desk drawer and immediately dialed Rachel Marsh. "Nathan?" Rachel answered on the first ring. "Marcus is getting bolder," Nathan said, walking over to the window and staring out over the city skyline. "He’s whispering to Pendelton. We need to slow down the secondary transfers."