Marcus Blackwood Novels & Stories

"Because it happened to me too." The admission dropped like a bomb. Marcus's dark eyes gleamed with ancient malice. "I am not the Marcus Blackwood who grew up beside Alpha Richard Silvermoon. I am the Marcus from a parallel reality where I successfully killed Zack's father and took the Alpha position. I died in my timeline during a challenge—but instead of ending, I slid here. Into a reality where I was still just a Beta, still loyal, still weak." "Moon Goddess," Zack breathed. "How long?"

I almost puked knowing what they did. My fangs slid down before I even realized it, my mouth filling with the bitter taste of disgust. Marcus Blackwood. The High Chamber’s sharpest blade. ********* Three centuries of discipline, blood, and war—and he was down there in the mud with that half-breed mistake like some lovesick animal. They were loud,careless too. The kind of loud that comes when two people forget the world exists. I dug my nails into the trunk of the pine tree beside me until the bark cracked beneath my fingers and sap bled down the wood.

the leader of their council said. There was so much hatred in the way he spoke to me, and I wondered what he was talking about. "What did you find out?" I asked him. " You possessed a dark lunar magic and this has brought about some kind of darkness to our pack, we do not accept that kind of magic here and anyone who brings such to us will be punished" he said. It sounded like some lame joke, I am never with such kind of magic, what has this got to do with me?

"Do something!" Marcus dropped to his knees beside us. He quickly tore open a medical pouch from his tactical vest and pressed a thick bandage over the wound. "Keep pressure here, ma'am," he said urgently. "Don't let go." I nodded through my tears. "I won't." Marcus spoke rapidly into his radio. "Medical team to the rooftop now! Mr. Blackwood has a gunshot wound. Repeat, he has a gunshot wound!" Static answered him before another voice came through. "ETA two minutes."

Black hole. Hamish was looking at the woman who was lying on his couch with a frown on her face. Or rather, the thief... He had carried her into his living room and then he had looked for anything on her to identify her but she had no papers so he had to take a picture of her to send to a friend to search in the American databases... He would like to have a drink but he was afraid that the young woman would run away... He wondered why he was unable to call the police... That's what all normal people do after discovering a thief in their house...

I knew that body and those hazel eyes from anywhere. I tried to walk to her but the senator appeared and grabbed my arm. “Markos, I’m glad you came,” he said as he pulled me into an unwanted hug. I had to go to hios party to show him he and I were still partners. To rule the black world of New York, you need law enforcement and a few politicians. The senator was among those on my payroll and I couldn’t fuck it up because he would screw everything about me. There was a reason they always wound up dead after they retired. They always got big heads and ewuallty big mouths.

I am not prepared for the man who rises from behind the mahogany desk. Marcus Blackwood is tall, dark-haired, and unfairly attractive in the way that makes smart women do incredibly stupid things and then write about it in their journals later. His suit is perfectly tailored, his smile is warm but calculating, and his eyes... Christ, his eyes are the color of aged whiskey and probably twice as dangerous. "Ms. Sterling." He moves around the desk with the kind of fluid grace that suggests he either does yoga or knows how to kill people with his bare hands. Maybe both. He extends his hand. "Welcome to Platinum Connections."

"I know yo‍u probably th⁠ink I'm planning someth⁠ing. That this is another manipulation but I'm not. I'm‍ just...⁠ trying to be better." Marcu⁠s's expres‌sion so‌fte⁠n⁠ed‍ sl⁠i⁠ghtly, just‌ a fracti⁠on. "Mrs. Blackwood, I'⁠ve b‌een‍ with Mr. Blac⁠kwoo⁠d for thre‌e years‍. I've never seen him like this⁠. Whatever you're doing, whatever game you're playing..."

Ivy continued, her voice tightening, “that a seventy-year-old man walked into a vineyard and murdered his own son?” Marcus tilted his head. “Victor Blackwood isn’t exactly a fragile grandfather.” That part was true. Victor had built Blackwood Global from nothing. People in the industry used words like ruthless and untouchable when they spoke about him. Still— Murdering Julian? Sebastian finally turned away from the screen. “That footage could be edited.” Marcus nodded calmly. “It could.” “And if it is,” Sebastian said, “you’re a dead man for showing it to me.” Marcus didn’t look intimidated.

Aiyana roared with approval inside me, guiding my movements with ancient precision. Another lunged for me from behind, but I spun and drove my fist into his jaw. He crashed backward with a pained howl. Aiyana’s energy wrapped around me like invisible armor, strong, steady, furious. “Stay behind me!” someone shouted. “I’m fine!” I yelled back, landing another blow. The hall vibrated with the sound of claws scraping stone, bodies colliding, growls echoing like thunder. Marcus was an unstoppable force, his Lycan form cutting through rebels with brutal, precise efficiency. Every movement radiated power, dominance, and deadly beauty.