Mark And Me Novels & Stories

Two bodies barreled around the corner of the banister, arms flailing, laughter spilling down with them. Mark and Lawrence Dankworth. They were older now, taller, ganglier, but still had that undeniable spark of youth. Mark, all sharp angles and restless limbs, had the storm-gray eyes of his father but none of the coldness. Lawrence was more collected, a thinker, with a disarming stillness to him that made you want to ask what he was plotting. Mark reached me first, launching himself into a hug that almost knocked me back. "You're here! Finally! Mom said you might not come—"

Some faces lit up when they saw me—others stared like they weren't sure if they were seeing a memory or a person. "Ava," a voice called out, half disbelief, half excitement. I turned. And there he was. Mark. Same crooked grin, same mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Same trouble. "You’re finally here," he said, running over and hugging me, completely ignoring the stares from other students. If only they knew he was gay—or at least that his mate was a man, which made him either bisexual or gay. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. "Mark, you’re squeezing her," Amelia said, patting his shoulder.

“You have to. You’re carrying my pup now. Our pup. I can smell it on you.” Good lawd. Part of me wanted to deny it, but my body knew that it wasn't far from the truth. Damon’s fingers rubbed me through the fabric, and I nearly cried out. “Fuck, you’re still so wet. Still dripping with me.” “Damon, not now,” I moaned, even as I rolled my hips against his hand. “I need to mark you deeper,” he growled, nipping at my neck. “Before they find us.” He spun me around, pressing my chest against the wall. So roughly, he yanked my jeans and panties down to my knees. I heard his zipper, and then his thick, hard cock was pushing back inside me from behind.

She hasn’t moved, she just keeps looking up at me. My eyes dart down and make contact with the side of her neck. There, barely visible a mark, the mark that I placed there. King is howling in delight in my mind. My eyes quickly make their way back to hers to see them hardened, she swiftly turns away and heads out the door. The clearing of a throat is when I remember that there were other people in the room. “Your mark may not be gone but it is fading.” That mutt states and when he turns his collar moves and I see that mark on his neck. Did Olivia mark another male? King is thrashing around in my mind and my blood is boiling.

Caleb and I stood in Boston Common, at the top of a small hill, looking out, surveying the park. He held a map of the Freedom Trail which he’d just bought in a store, and he ran his finger along it again and again. I stood beside him, holding out both halves of the ancient scroll. “Read it again,” he said. I squinted to make out the words. I read: The Four Horsemen travel a trail to freedom. They leave common ground,

This was the world’s attempt to understand what it had failed to finish. “Unclean,” someone murmured. The word carried poorly. It thinned before it reached her fully. Another voice, lower: “Wrong.” Elizabeth did not turn. She felt the mark beneath her skin respond with a quiet steadiness. She was here. She was present. She was not asking to be forgiven. The village felt unreal now, like a place remembered rather than inhabited. She had been inside its fear too long to belong to it anymore. At the chapel door, Father Aldric stood speaking with Marta.

Mark knew both of them, but the nature of their relationship was unknown to me. "Are they relatives?" I whispered inwardly to myself, but my question hung in the air as I continued to listen to their conversation on the phone. “Tomorrow is the burial. I'm currently in Texas right now.” Mark's promising words whispered to Mia on the phone, "I will surely visit the burial ceremony tomorrow. Send me the address to my phone,” Mark declared, and Mia hung up the call on that note. Mark dropped the phone angrily on the table.

Which is exactly what Mark did, flashing me that killer smile that had spread more legs than a gynecologist. "Same here Meg, it's been awhile." As he spoke using the name that only he could get away with I looked Mark over thinking that he really was beautiful. Mark and I shared the same thick black hair and high cheek bones, but where I was fair with blue eyes, he was a bit darker and his eyes were a gorgeous shade of golden brown with flecks of green overall his features were a bit on the delicate side and he had been called "Pretty Boy" on more than one occasion. The beauty certainly did not stop at his face. Mark was slightly taller than I and was a hundred and ninety pounds of rock soli

Even as the pain made me convulse, I welcomed the feeling of my soul being stripped free and reborn. When it was finally over, I let out a long breath. My body felt unbelievably light. Far away, Marcus was shopping with Clara and the kids, laughing together. Suddenly, his chest tightened, and the suffocating sensation nearly made him collapse. But it passed in an instant. Confused, he brushed it off when Clara called his name, and he soon forgot about it altogether. They went to Firefly Woods. They took family photos and walked along the beach together. They had no idea that somewhere in the city, I had already left the pack behind, dragging my suitcase into an airport terminal.

Mark loves me. I have been visiting Mark every afternoon after school. I didn’t see Kate at school all week and Sierra was asking about her too. But like I said, I needed some time. Mark has been home for a few days now and I was hoping to spend the whole day with him, since it’s Saturday. But he told me he’s feeling too tired and weak. So I decided to help out dad. At least it gives me something to do. Cleaning often clears my mind and I love those damn animals.