Marcus From Lab Rats Novels & Stories

She looked at him. "Yes," she said. "Speak to him." A beat. "He'll like you." Something warm moved through his expression unguarded, genuine, the kind that appeared when he was not performing anything. "I hope so." Marcus knocked and entered before the moment could extend further. He crossed the room and placed a photograph on the desk without a preamble. Mara looked at the face. Not from the council. Not from any lycan record she had reviewed. From the hospital. From the morning she was born.

Unlike Marcus, who wore the heavy weight of a king, Jax leaned back in his chair with an arrogant, mocking grin. "I must say, King Marcus," Jax purred, his voice dripping with false diplomacy. "Your defenses look a bit... ragged today. Did Raymond’s little rats give your old bones a scare last night?" Marcus sat perfectly still, his hands resting flat on the dark wood of the table. He looked like a mountain waiting to crush a village. "The rats are dead, Jax. And their bodies are currently hanging from my eastern pikes. Speak your business, boy, before I lose my patience."

"Master Marcus, if you are truly a renowned traditional doctor, why haven't I ever heard your name in our professional circles?" Master Marcus Sr. casually accepted two dark purple walnuts from his assistant and began rolling them slowly in his palm, his expression perfectly relaxed. "I have only recently returned from overseas," he replied smoothly. "My full name is Marcus Marcus." The Shift "What... Master... Master Marcus?" If Professor Qi had been surprised before, he was now completely struck with shock. His jaw dropped, and a wave of pure, unhidden admiration swept across his face. "You... you are the Master Marcus? The legendary healer?"

All looked broken. “Moon Goddess,” Cassandra breathed. “What have they done?” We found Marcus in the last cell. A male wolf in his early twenties, emaciated and scarred. His eyes were silver, but dim, barely glowing. They had been draining his power somehow, siphoning it for their experiments. “Marcus,” Cassandra said gently. “We are here to get you out.” He looked at us with dull incomprehension. “Not real. Hallucination. They give me drugs. Make me see things.”

In fact, Dax had made it clear he would not be happy until the man was wiped from the face of the earth. Engrossed in his work, Marcus and his team were interrupted by the sound of yelling and growling from the entrance to the basement. As soon as he heard the sound of his mate, Marcus stood, running to see what was happening. He stopped dead in his tracks when he got to the entrance of the lab.

My head was throbbing and in the middle of being attended to by a lab expert, I spotted Marcus walking by the window. Just great!

"I prepared this automatic script back on the jet. I knew you would appear. That chemical perfume of yours... it’s everywhere in this bunker. You were just a pawn who thought too highly of himself." "Kill them!" Marcus shouted to two armed guards who had just entered. But before they could pull the triggers, a massive explosion tore through the laboratory roof. Sebastian Vane and his elite team rappelled down on steel cables, filling the room with tranquilizer rounds and smoke grenades. Mavric immediately snatched his gun from the floor. He shot one of Marcus’s guards in the leg, then kicked another weapon away. Mavric moved with terrifying speed, his pent-up emotions exploding into pure rag

Troy said with a smile that Marcus couldn't wait to wipe off from his stupid, ugly face. " Yes she is, although she's a rude little brat. I would give her to you tonight. " Marcus had had enough of hearing their conversation, he couldn't just hide here and listen to their disgusting conversation about his mate. He growled loudly enough for them to hear and that made both of them stop dead in their tracks. Martin couldn't help but tremble at the sound of the ferocious growl and it sounded like that of a wolf.

The light turned green, and the door clicked open. Marcus stepped into the server room. The blue light from the servers hit his face, making him look like a ghost. He looked terrible. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin looked sallow. He had lost weight. The "prince" of the city was now just a bitter man in a dark room. I watched as he set his toolbox down. He didn't know I was watching. He didn't know that three tiny, hidden cameras were recording his every move in high definition. He thought he was being a hero. He thought he was going to ruin me.

Eight minutes, thirty seconds. Dominic doesn’t touch it. He just watches me. “Why marketing?” he asks. It’s the same question he asked in the elevator, but now there’s no elevator to escape to. “Because people lie,” I say before I can sanitize it. “But their data doesn’t. And I’m good at spotting the difference.” That earns me the second flicker. “Marcus.” The door opens like he was waiting for his name. Marcus is tall, Black, mid-30s, in a suit that costs more than my rent. His eyes are cop eyes. He’s been in the room for 0.2 seconds and already decided I’m a problem.