Marill #204 Novels & Stories

“You think you can just slide into his space, take what belongs to the Chika Whitmore line, and play the loyal pet?” Driscoll’s voice was a low growl, vibrating with pure werewolf malice as he cornered Malik Arden by the heavy oak doors. “That seat was reserved for the true mate of the Dominion’s heir, not a scavenging stray looking for scraps from Lucien’s plate.”

But it’s enough for me to notice the message on the screen. [Unknown Number: You really think he's changed?] My fingers freeze. Another vibration. [Ask him what happened in New York.] A chill creeps down my spine. Another message arrives before I can even process the last. [You're sharing a bed with a monster.] I stare at the screen, barely breathing as another notification slides right in. This time it's a photograph. It's grainy, taken from a distance. It’s Marcellus. He’s standing outside what looks like a warehouse. His white shirt is soaked in blood. Worse, his expression is just… blank.

The air vibrated with the sound, the packhouse's distant hum seeming to amplify it, as if the very structure celebrated with them. Yet, amid the jubilation, a discordant note lingered. Mara, positioned at the glade's southern edge, crossed her arms over her chest, her moss-green cloak blending seamlessly with the shadows. Her green eyes, sharp as emerald daggers, flashed with doubt, reflecting the moonlight like polished stones. At twenty-one, Mara was a beta through and through—her lithe, wiry frame built for speed and agility, her blonde hair braided tightly back to reveal a face of striking angles: high cheekbones, a determined jaw, and that faint scar across her eyebrow, a reminder of a

Gold fixtures. I splashed water on my face. Looked at myself in the mirror. Mrs. Marlowe. That's who I was now. Mrs. Sterling Marlowe. What a mess. I went back to the bedroom. Started to take off the robe to find pajamas. A knock again. This time louder. "What?" I called. "Can I come in? Just for a second?" "I'm not dressed." "I'll close my eyes." Despite everything, I almost smiled. Almost.

Marisa Miller was not polite, and told Randall Harrah where to receive water, and Randall Harrah just poured the water. Randall Harrah just poured the water, only to hear Randall Harrah "ah", Marisa Miller startled, "What's wrong Mr. Harrah?" "Ms. Miller you have a small bug on your head, you do not move, I help you take down." Randall Harrah hurriedly put down the water cup, Marisa Miller once heard there was a bug, angry and did not dare to move. Randall Harrah's movements are careful and gentle, a little different from his usual image of hanging around, Marisa Miller, who is standing in front of Randall Harrah, feels like she is being held in Randall Harrah's arms at this moment, her nose

A cheerful young man questioned as he walked into the room, he held a bottle in his hand, and on his hand were rings on his different five fingers. He wore ripped jejeansnlike Adriano's neat appearance, he had piercings on his ears too and his hair was colored ash-grey. Adriano raised his eyes to stare at Mariano, Mariano was one of Adriano's men who walked for him in shadows and behind the scenes. "You stink.", Adriano said glancing at him from head to toe. "What do I smell like? I took a shower though" Mariano remarked chuckling to himself, he raised his head and ruffled his head.

Raymond then approached the second girl, "Boss, this girl's name is Mutiara, she is from Indonesia. Her hair is straight, sharp eyes..." "She doesn't have melon-sized breasts. Next!" Sebastian cruelly interrupted. Mutiara lowered her head sadly, then turned to leave the room. Now, only one elegantly dressed girl and two super sexy ones remained. "Her butt is not big enough!" Sebastian interjected before Raymond could introduce the third girl. The girl huffed in annoyance, then turned to follow her friends. Now, only two super sexy dressed girls were left. Their curves invited the attention of every eye in the room.

My problem was standing twenty feet away near the marble fountain. Marcella. She was wearing a standard silk gown from the Westview boutique district. It looked like a rag compared to the liquid moonlight on my skin. Her fingers were wrapped around a crystal champagne flute so tightly her knuckles were dead white. "Look at her," Cooper said softly. "She looks like she wants to drink your blood." "She can try," I said. I turned my body slightly, forcing the sea-star diamonds to catch the direct beam of the moonstone ceiling. The reflection hit Marcella straight in the eyes. She flinched. Her face went from pale to a mottled, ugly purple in a fraction of a second.

Even her voice sounded like bad news. I pinched the bridge of my nose as I turned to my desk and pressed a button to signal Lydia. “She’ll let you in,” The call ended and in less than a minute, Lydia knocked and opened my door. I steeled myself, sliding both hands in my pockets as I schooled my expression to one of boredom. Marielle’s overly sweet citrus scent flooded the room before she stepped in. Perfectly curled blond hair and baby blue eyes that held the strength of her beta wolf.

The call came in the middle of laughter. Someone had burned dinner, again and the kitchen was full of smoke, teasing, and exaggerated accusations. Lily was leaning against the counter, smiling despite herself, when the standing channel chimed softly. Not an alarm. A request. Mara glanced at the slate and frowned slightly. “This one’s… unusual.” Lily wiped her hands on a towel. “Unusual how?” “It’s not from a pack,” Mara said. “It’s from a companion.”