Marcus Twilight Novels & Stories

She doubted that some eleventh-hour miracle would save her tonight. Christophe reappeared and shed his toweling robe in an untidy heap on the floor. He looked at her, blazing all-male satisfaction, and Lara shrank under the sheet. He stood half in shadow, half in light, the long, muscular planes of his golden body a glorious vision of rampant masculinity, and Lara felt her own hunger stirring, insidious as a secret invader.

He was a vampire elder who was over a thousand year. "She has to leave," another elder who's name was Marcus said. He was older than the three vampire elders Ington had.Ington is the name of their town. "You have no say in this," Vador said attacking Marcus with a rod. "Get off me," Marcus groaned his hands healing from the cut Vador gave him."How old are you. 200?" "I'm over 200 years," Vador spat. "Calm yourself Vador," Aleister shouted nodding at Vador literally telling him everything was going to be fine.

He was standing far far away from the group so he was obviously not a part of us, he was looking down all along but as he lifted his head, I saw a his eyes turn deep red before he disappeared completely leaving me shivering against Lucas's body. ¶•¶•¶•¶

~ ROWAN’S POV ~ The heavy thud of the oak door echoed through the private wing, followed by the distinct, metallic click of a deadbolt. I didn’t even turn around from the window. I didn’t need to. The scent of rain and expensive cedar told me exactly which twin had entered my golden cage. "You’re still awake," Marcus said. His voice was low, devoid of the usual sharp edge Julian carried like a weapon.

"Toby, thank you. You know that's why I love you, right? I'm sorry I was off the grid." "I'm not your friend, Ace. Just get to the hall," he mutters, hanging up before I can say anything else. I stand paralyzed under the concrete arches, the glass phone screen reflecting my pale face. My brain is screaming at me, every defensive instinct I have flaring hot. Marcus? Marcus was our second-line defenseman. He was a quiet, old-money kid who spent his weekends reviewing game footage and tracking stats. Since when does Marcus do drugs? Since when does an elite university athlete overdose on black-market crap in a warehouse district?

I looked down at my hands, afraid I would start sobbing again. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I don’t even know your name.” A small, almost shy smile touched his lips. It transformed his face, making him look younger. “Marcus. My name is Marcus.” “Thank you, Marcus,” I said, feeling his name on my tongue. It suited him. Strong. Solid. He nodded. Then he added, “Marcus Wilson.” The air left the room. I stared at him. The world tilted on its axis. Thorne.

POV: Marcus (The Rival) The fluorescent lights of the university’s athletic wing hummed with a clinical, soul-sucking vibration that matched the agitation buzzing under Marcus’s skin. He leaned against the cool metal of the lockers, his arms crossed over his chest, tracing the jagged lines of the varsity logo on his jacket. To the rest of campus, Marcus Thorne was the golden boy—the reliable, disciplined alternative to the chaotic whirlwind that was Kai Sterling. But Marcus knew better. He knew that in a world of optics, the only thing that mattered was who held the power when the lights went out.

To make Emily fall in deep slumber, Marcus has turned to the use of the substance that that has helped him for a long time. With this central nervous system depressant mixed with wolfsbane, he will do whatever he wants with her; make love to her the whole night and then mark her and she won't be able to feel a thing.

However, the main character was oblivious to the tempest that was soon approaching her; she was happily immersed in her blissful bubble. Today, Walter residence was decked with lights and glitter to celebrate the 20th birthday of Marcus. This was the first time Marcus’s birthday was celebrated in such a manner. Although this was a norm for all Walter birthday celebrations, the exceptions were Darcy and Marcus; Darcy had never wanted to celebrate a birthday since the light in his life was snuffed off whereas in Marcus’s case, Eva never allowed him to have birthday celebrations at the main house.

I followed him down, catching him on the sidewalk as he fumbled with a lighter. “Those will rot your lungs before a silver blade touches you,” I noted. “Thanks for the tip,” Marcus snapped, taking a long, shaking drag. “But Adrian will probably rip my throat out before the cancer gets a chance.” We sat on the bench, watching the traffic crawl through the rain-slicked streets. Marcus was seething. I didn't blame him. Adrian was my polar opposite—a tattooed, edgy disaster in black leather, while I stood there looking like a poster for the High Council’s elite. We were born to clash.