Marcus Black Novels & Stories

"Look at what we built. Look at them." Marcus stood exactly a half-step behind Jack's right shoulder. He wore his immaculate dark grey combat rig, his broad chest rising and falling in a shallow, meticulously controlled rhythm. His hands were clasped behind his back, the dark, high-tech kinetic wraps completely hiding his swollen knuckles, the pink thread resting against the small of his back. He looked like the God of Honor. He looked invincible. Beneath the fabric, Marcus was slowly dying.

The paper inside is stiff, the ink dark and rust-colored: blood. Thomas Black sent this to me a few days ago. A warning in the mail. The words stare back at me, stark and threatening: [You’ve taken my son, and now I’ll take yours.] My fingers tighten on the paper. "I thought Thomas Black died in the war." Marcus shakes his head. "No, Eleanor. He’s still very much alive. And from the looks of things, he’s angry." His voice is grim. "The war isn’t over yet. I think it’s just getting started."

I asked, growing increasingly more concerned. "We don't know what happened, but Chase found them. Agent Marks was found dead at the scene." "WHAT?!" I unknowingly shouted, altering Jessica and waking Maverick from his sleep. Maverick began to cry, and Jessica picked him up, holding him in a tight hug. She looked over at me, but I didn't miss the concerned expression on her face. I could tell that she knew that something was wrong, and was desperate to find out what had happened. I switched the phone over to speaker phone, knowing that Jessica desperately wanted to know what had happened. Thankfully, Maverick was too young to understand what was going on.

"I told you, Mona. I made a promise to your mother. Today I keep it." Derek grabbed him. "Marcus, this is insane—" "This is necessary." Marcus shoved him back with newfound strength. "You want to reach Alaric? I'll carve you a path. But you have to promise me something." "Anything," I said, tears burning my eyes. "When this is over, when I'm gone, you tell the story right. Tell them Marcus Blackwood died a hero, not a bitter old wolf who lost everything." He smiled, and for a moment I saw the man he might have been if my mother had chosen differently. "Tell them I died for love."

Dominic said. He talked for an hour. I listened. And the family I had arrived into, already complicated, revealed itself in its full shape: not worse than I had thought, not better, but larger and more human and more costly than the version I'd been given in increments. Marcus Blackwood had been many things, terrible and brilliant and afraid and powerful, and the sons he had raised—and the son he had adopted—had each carried pieces of him that were still being worked out.

BLACK CHAUFFEUR FUCKS RUDE BILLIONAIRE 1 My name is Marcus "Marc" Thompson. Thirty-one, born and raised in Atlanta, Georgia—black, built like I still hit the weights every morning before shift (because I do), six-three, two-twenty pounds of muscle that fills out the black chauffeur uniform like it was tailored for a runway instead of a Rolls-Royce.

"No, no, it's not all me, there are some other media. Making money, you know, sometimes you have to do things against your conscience." Blake guiltily offers me a cup of coffee. I squinted like Antoninus and said coldly, "Tell me, what did Marcus do for you?" "Marcus? No, no, this has nothing to do with him." Blake took a sip from his coffee cup and said proudly, "Marcus is just a crazy careerist, an upstart. It is said that he was only a small-town dentist before he became rich!" "This one is different. He's the real deal."

he said to Callum, his tone all business, though I could feel the tension between us. Callum feigned a deep, exaggerated bow. “How terrible it must be to condescend to answer me, oh great Thalia Blackwood,” he teased, his tone light, but with an edge that spoke of danger lurking beneath his charm. I gave him a thin smile, not bothering to respond. My thoughts were already far ahead of this conversation, imagining what it would be like to finally leave Karnak behind. “Enough.” Marcus's voice cut through the air like a whip. “We need to keep moving.” He was all duty and order, his focus completely on the mission.

He came back to her then give it to Isabey. Isabey hesitated before grabbing it But he nodded his head. So, Isabey took the glass from his hand. She gulped it down. Marcus sits beside her on the bed. "Isabey, I am Alpha Marcus Black. This is my pack. I care about my pack so much!!! Anyone that messes up with my pack security. I can not let them flew away that easily. If there would have been anyone else. I would have killed him/her. But, you are my mate. I am giving you a chance to explain yourself. So, I want you to give answers to all my questions. I want to hear only truth." He said then heaved a sigh. He looks towards Isabey. She was fiddling with her fing

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard quite a bit.” I shook his hand, feeling slightly self-conscious in Damien’s shirt. “All good things, I hope?” Marcus’s lips twitched with dry amusement. “Mostly. Though I must admit, when Mr. Blackwood told me he was seeing Richard Holt’s daughter, my first reaction was to prepare contingency plans.” Damien chuckled darkly as he poured himself a coffee, then pulled me against his side with one arm. “Marcus has been trying to talk me out of this since the rooftop night at Eclipse. He thinks I’m playing with fire.”