Mark Bl Mga Nobela at Kwento

Brindle said as she threw a slight wink at Marko. "Hey you," Richard said without wasting much time, delivering a powerful blow that sent Marko straight to the floor. He held him up by his shirt and delivered another blow. "How could you do this to me?" he said, his voice filled with righteous anger. With clenched fists, he prepared to unleash his fury upon him, but Brindle intervened.

To the right, a picture of Harou himself; In the middle, a picture of Blake with darker eyes in a deep green and hazel; and to the right, a picture of Damian, or as Harou likes to call him, Keiran. Blake nods in disbelief. "This, can't be real. This is . . . . What is this?"

Branded. Take that, Mark

My body shivered at the memory. “You’re right not to trust him so easily, even if he is their father. Blake is a coward and has been since he was a boy. The goddess is right too though. If you mark him he will protect you against anyone, even our father.” Bolton actually spoke with no anger in his voice to me. “I don’t want to mark him to make him loyal. He should had been that way from the start. We weren’t some strangers that met on my eighteenth birthday. Blake is my oldest friend, was my oldest friend.”

Elias, however, couldn’t help but stare at him in astonishment. “You… just who are you? No ordinary butler could pull off what you just did,” Elias said, his tone a mix of awe and suspicion. Marcellus let out a low chuckle and patted Mark’s shoulder. “Mark was a former Special Forces captain. He’s been with me for years. Do you think I’d come here with just the three of us otherwise?” Elias fell silent, his gaze lingering on Mark with newfound respect, marveling at the hidden depths of the unassuming butler.

He is one of mine, loyal and careful, but he still smells like doubt sometimes. “You wanted updates,” he says, and his voice is tight. “I always want updates,” I say, and I finally turn around. “If you knocked like that, then it better be something real.” He swallows, then nods. “We got information.” There it is. That little pause before the fall. “Information of what?” I ask, even though my chest already feels hot. “Eli Blackwood,” Mark says. “We have his location.” I laugh. It comes out wrong. Too sharp. Too loud.

she yelled after me. I walked into the kitchen to see Blake standing in front of the sink, his hands soapy up to his forearms as he dipped them back into the sink. He had on a tight white tee that showed off his rippling back muscles as he moved around the kitchen. My tongue darted out to wet my lips and I gulped at the sight. I stalked over to him, making sure to be quiet so he wouldn't notice and grabbed his ass, making him jerk in fright.

Dalton called trying to get my mother's attention I don't think it working. "Do you want to know how you got that mark on your back"? She asked me still boiling in annoyance. The mark on my back, it looks cool so I don't know why she is bringing it up. When I asked her about the mark she told me it was a birth mark, I found it so cool because it looks like a dog foot print and my friends finds it cool, and looks exactly like a tattoos. So I don't understand how my birth mark relate with my father.

Even if I wanted to hide my anger right now, I wouldn’t be able to in front of him. “Another voicemail from Sasha,” I tell him, settling down on the bench on the lawn to compose myself. Mark takes a seat next to me, running a hand through his disheveled blonde hair. As a couple of freshmen girls strut past us, Mark winks at them, drawing giggles from the girls as they continue down the pathway. I roll my eyes. Out of the three of us, Mark is the most charismatic. On the outside, he’s perfect. Handsome, charming, street smart, and intuitive, not to mention an incredible dancer. But only those that really know him understand the secrets he holds within. We all have similar secrets.