Mark Chapter 15 Novels & Stories

Dante rose without another word and left the room, the folder still lying open on the desk with Emilia’s name stamped in bold on the cover. The air was colder than usual when Mark stepped off the bus near the edge of the district. The lights of the convenience stores and old lampposts flickered weakly as dusk settled in, casting long shadows over the empty street. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and adjusted his bag on his shoulder, eager to get home and avoid Vanessa’s temper. But something felt off. He paused at the corner and looked back. Nothing. Just an old woman pushing a cart a few blocks down, and a delivery bike speeding by. Still, his gut twisted.

Mark disappears into the kitchen area quietly. A few minutes later, he returns carrying two mugs of coffee. The smell alone almost hurts. Home. Comfort. Things I stopped associating with people a long time ago. He sits across from me instead of beside me. Giving me space. Giving me choice. God. That almost destroys me more than anything else tonight. For several long moments, neither of us speak. Rain crashes outside the cabin windows while firelight flickers softly between us. Then Mark reaches into his jacket pocket. And pulls out my essay.

The ground beneath her feet glowed. The mark. The Eternal Blood Mark. It was appearing again. But not on Lucien. On her. Evelyn looked down in horror. Red symbols spread across her arm. Up her neck. Across her chest. Burning. Alive. "No..." Pain exploded through her body. She fell to one knee. The mark continued spreading. Lucien's voice immediately filled with panic. "Evelyn!" She clenched her teeth. "Lucien..." "The final chain..." The ancient voice finished the sentence.

​I blinked, my eyes struggling to focus in the oppressive darkness of the alley. My head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing behind my temples like a trapped bird beating against a cage. ​I tried to push myself up, but my hands skidded on something slick. I looked down, and my breath hitched in my throat. My clothes were shredded, stained dark with dried, crusty blood. ​The gala. The music. The laughter. The way Noah and Cassian had looked at me, like I was a prize they’d finally captured. I remembered the heat rising in my blood, the golden agony of the mark on my neck, and then… nothing.

Thank you again for sticking with me and reading; Marked, Broken and Carrying his Heir.

Everyone was shocked as they stared at Mark's sudden appearance from the book's pages. Out of all the excitement, Jace suddenly staggered. It was as if his energy was being drained away. Jace hid his arm. The black rose runes on his body were increasing and expanding. Rain might not have realized it, but Jace's three colleagues were aware of Jace's increasingly critical condition. Rain needed to figure out what to expect. Excited cry? Clap? However, the atmosphere was too quiet to be broken by Adaline's words. "Mark, how did you manage to hide in that notebook?"

1…2…3 Lily turned her face to Mark. His attention was fixed on his drink as he took small gulps out of his red cup. This was her chance to slip away. She hesitated for a second, then began to rise, but a hand stopped her—Mark's hand. It firmly grasps her exposed thighs, causing a tingling sensation to shoot through her body. Instantly she froze, stunned by his unexpected touch. With a commanding pull, he brought her back to her seated position.

He only prayed that Clara could run away far enough from them and that he could find Clara and save her! ---- Mark drove through roads and lanes looking out on the road searching for Clara but he couldn’t find her even after an hour of search! He was feeling worried and scared! Never in his life did he worry about anyone like this except for his mom who was very sick! But today seeing Clara held by those dirty men, Mark couldn’t help but walk-in the den of danger! But what if they catch Clara again? What if someone else did?? He was unable to see properly because blood was dripping from her eyelashes crawling over his eyes! His whole face was covered with blood! His stomach and every part of

she whispers. “Say it,” I murmur as I take in the tips of her nipples pushing through her shirt. “Markov, Master.” “From here on out, you’re not going to make any noise. If you do make a sound, you won’t be rewarded,” I inform her. She shivers and I watch in awe as her eyes grow large and fascinated, as she stares up at me. Goosebumps cover her delicate damp skin, and I run my fingers along those beady nips. The need to feel them under my fingertips, to feel them in my mouth is almost overpowering.

As she took a seat at the table, her father soon walked over to her with the chicken. Placing in front of her, he placed a gentle hand on her head. Which made memories of her mother, flash through her thoughts. She smiled, she actually smiled when he did that. Turning to look at him, she blushed lightly realizing she wanted to actually stay here and learn more. More about the marks, and more about her father really.