Mark 6 Niv Novels & Stories

We barely got visitors in the house. “I’ll go get the door.” Dad said, practically jumping out of his seat before I could even think of moving a muscle. “Welcome Elders. Come in.” I heard him say from the door. Elders? I casually turned my neck to see, my blood freezing when my eyes landed on a mark I knew all too well. The steak suddenly soured in my mouth, and my stomach churned with acid. I tightened my jaw, trying to control the puke that threatened to escape.

He pressed the button on his phone and slid it into his pocket before stepping away from the door and settling down on a sectional on the opposite side of the room from where Dani was pacing, shaking his head all the while. "I knew it. I knew it. When I marked my mate the mark was maybe three quarters the size of the one on your neck. Maybe. Maybe just over half. And that was bigger than any mark I'd seen in this territory. When I saw the mark on your neck, all shiny and new I knew it had to fucking be his." Waylon laughed lightly as he said the last sentence, and Dani could tell that he was more than a little nervous.

Then, gradually, shapes begin to emerge from the darkness ahead. The pillars rise from the mist like ancient sentinels, weathered stone columns that seem to have stood here for centuries—maybe longer. There are six of them arranged in a circle, each one easily twice my height and covered in intricate carvings that seem to writhe in the uncertain light. I move closer, drawn by something I don't understand, my fear momentarily eclipsed by fascination.

“Louder this time. The walls listen.” I swallowed. “Our bodies are vessels,” I recited, voice obedient, familiar words scraping my throat. “Our blood is borrowed. Our breaths are offerings. We are the chosen keepers of the Mark, the last gate between this world and the hunger beneath it.” “And the Mark?” she prompted. The skin on my left shoulder prickled as if it heard her. “The Mark is not a curse,” I said. “The Mark is the seal.” Mother Elara’s gaze softened, but not with affection. With reverence. With fear.

“ I don't think they're after money or territory either.” I already knew what he was going to say. “They’re after her.” I nodded once. “Call Marco.” Luca stiffened. “Your cousin?” “Yes.” Marco didn’t miss the movement. He owns the northern ports, the shadows between shipments, the whispers before they become wars, nothing ever passes him by. “Have him tear through everything,” I said. “New players. Silent cargo. Old names resurfacing.” “And if nothing turns up?” My voice dropped, sharp and final.

Mark walked into his black Mercedes Benz GT 63 S car and immediately started the engine and left the yard of his father's luxury house. Previously Mark's day was very calm because in that magnificent house, only his father and himself lived. but in the last 2 years everything has changed, the woman who is currently still his father's fiancee has even come to live in the same house with Mark. "Damn it when that woman comes home!!.. I can't wait to get close to her. " Mark hit the steering wheel pressed the gas pedal and drove his car through the slippery road because it had been soaked in rain for a moment.

After our engagement, the six of us friends agreed to take one last trip together before the wedding. That night, my friend Anders Greer suggested we play a "24-Hour Couple Swap." Anyone who drew matching symbols had to act like a couple for the next twenty-four hours. Whoever drew a blank card could only take pictures and carry everyone's bags. In the first round, I drew a blank. My fiancee, Brielle Rice, and Anders both drew moons. They held hands while watching the sunrise, while I followed behind carrying three people's bags. In the second round, I drew another blank. They both drew roses. Their penalty was to hug for one minute. Everyone crowded around, cheering them on, while I sto