Mark Of The Fool Novels & Stories

V E R A "How... how is this possible..." he then questions, shaking his head at me. "I don't know..." I answer honestly. I really don't. I know how the mark works. Every wolf knows how the mark works. A male marks a female, and the mark either remains or it doesn't. If it remains, then the Moon has accepted the bond between them, and the two wolves are mates. There has never been any confusion about that part. The problem is that the man who marked me is Cole Drakov, and that alone makes the entire situation feel impossible...

His gaze turned serious again. “You weren’t wrong to call me.” We began walking along the shore, and our conversation was masked by the rhythm of the tide. “There’s movement,” Marco continued. “It’s neither loud nor aggressive.” “From who?” “That’s the problem,” he said. “No known banner. There's no claim either. But there’s a new player pushing into smaller channels. He's buying silence and information.” My jaw tightened. “On me?” Marco shook his head slowly. “On her.”

My thoughts are interrupted because Mark’s face appeared in my vision, his expression filled with confusion and mocking. “What were you thinking about? Something dirty?” I scowled and didn't fail to come with a response “Not everyone is like you” Mark shook his head as if he were expecting my response. His eyes skimmed over the menu on his hand...his lips rolling out and in. I don't think he even realised that he looked like an idiot. I stifled my laugh and covered my mouth… his head raised up in an offensive way, expression looking incredibly curious and suspicious. “What are you laughing at? You fool” I raised my hands up in surrender. I knew that if I were to say the truth, No doubt I wou

"There they are! That shameless pair! They hurt Rick and still dare to hold a funeral here? Hypocrites!" When they saw me, it was like they'd found their target. Anything they could throw came flying my way. "This is all your fault! You set him up!" Hard, cold objects slammed into my body. I tried to stop them, but a man lunged forward and shoved me hard to the ground. In the chaos, a heavy candlestick crashed against my head. My vision went black, and I passed out. In less than ten minutes, the enraged "fans" had reduced the funeral hall to rubble.

Before I could speak, he continued, "You went a bit too far this time. As punishment, you can't see Timmy for three months." I interrupted him, "Alpha James, we only had a simple ceremony before. You didn't mark me." He seemed to chuckle and was in a good mood. "Emma, ​​do you want me to mark you that much? It's not impossible, but not now. You've made a mistake, and I won't consider it for now. Sophia is still upset about the grilled meat incident. If you come back and apologize to her, maybe I'll..." Who was Sophia? Oh, the she-wolf who asked me to grill some meat for her.

"You are Mine" He murmured across my skin. He inhaled my scent deeply and kissed the mark he gave me. I shuddered as he lightly nipped it. "Kirsten, you are mine and only mine, you understand?" Kirsten Saunders had a pretty rough life. After being heartbroken and betrayed by both her father and boyfriend, Kirsten moves to a small town to find the comfort of her mother.

For a moment, my heart ached so badly I could barely breathe, and I rushed to grab Alyssa's hand. As an Alpha, I would never bow my head to anyone or shed tears in front of anyone, yet I was crying openly for her, desperate for even one glance back. My body trembled, and my voice cracked with emotion. "Alyssa, I know I was truly wrong. I'll do anything if you'll just forgive me. When we return, we'll have the marking ceremony immediately. I'll announce to the entire pack that you're my Luna, and no one will dare disrespect you or hurt you. Please just forgive me."

Then my boot caught on something half-hidden under pallet shadow - a leather-bound ledger, its corners frayed, a list of shipments scrawled in a hand that didn’t fear ink. I pried it free. The pages were numbered, times and names recorded like a tax of sin. Pallet numbers. Courier names. Routes that slipped through the dockside like a vein. And on one of the shipment slips, tucked like a signature, was a mark - the kind of symbol you’d only use where you wanted a man to know the order came from a boss. My blood went cold and hot at the same time. The mark? A crudely drawn fox head with a vertical line through it. I had the sensation of hands closing where air had been.

Mark was slightly taller than I and was a hundred and ninety pounds of rock solid muscle, his shoulders were wide and his waist narrow, he was not muscle bound, but there was not a damn thing on him that was not exactly where it should be including a set of abs that would make a twenty year old jealous. Mark, like me in a sleeveless shirt caught a bit of attention. Both of his arms shoulder to elbow were covered in enormous tattoo's, on the right was Pan the Celtic devil; horns, hooves and red eyes glaring, on the left was an incredibly detailed image of the Pale rider of revelations fame. With his build, the tats and his five o clock shadow Mark was flaunting the "Bad Boy" look and carried

Reaching for it, it stops face up, and to the purple neon light that slowly faded, the symbol of the roman number I is shown, and to the perfect picture of the man in the middle traveling in a path, the card name is read as ‘THE FOOL’. “NO MATTER WHAT, DO NOT TRUST ANYONE.”