Mark Of The Thief Novels & Stories

I gasped through the pain. "I'm updating the insurance," Rider growled. "Now, no matter where you go, everyone will know exactly who you've been sleeping with." But as the glow faded, a look of pure shock crossed Rider’s face. He stared at the mark on my neck, then at the palms of his own hands, which were beginning to glow with the same haunting, silver light. The Mark of the Fated. Rider backed away from me as if I were a ghost, his face pale and his eyes wide with horror.

"You smell like sunshine. It's nice," Oliver muttered in a muffled voice. My body went rigid, and my mind was a complete blank. He was at it again. I cleared my throat and tried to sound authoritative. "Let me tell you something… This is a second kidnapping, and that's an extra charge. You'd better put me down right now, or when my cross-stitch kit arrives, I'll hang it right over your bed so you wake up to the majestic mountains every morning."

on the wolf. The bond pulsed faintly as she got closer. Not reacting to him directly—but to something around him. Or… on him. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “He smells wrong.” Marcus’s head snapped toward her. “What?” She took another step. “Not like us.” Rowan frowned. “Okay, that’s definitely not reassuring.” Theron moved in, his expression sharpening as he studied the wolf more closely. Then—his hand shot out, gripping the collar of the wolf’s shirt and tearing it aside. There, just below the collarbone—was a mark. Dark. Faint. But unmistakable. Not a scar. Not a wound. A symbol. Burned into the skin. The same jagged pattern Aira had felt earlier in the bond when the rival Alpha spoke. The

He’s trying not to grin and fails horribly. Marcus taps the map with two fingers. “Western ridge. The trader road.” My focus snaps down. The soft, warm part of my brain that wants to climb back into bed gets shoved into a box and locked. Marcus’s voice is steady. “Overnight escalation. Three coordinated hits. Not the usual thieves taking a sack of grain and running. Full carts missing. Two teams of guards didn’t return.” Lyra pushes off the wall. “We found blood on the stone markers. Drag marks. Like someone was taken alive.”

Like she thought I’d break if she touched too hard. When she peeled the waistband of my pants down a bit to get to the gash, she froze. “Wait… what the hell is this?” I stiffened. She’d found it. Not the rune—but the scar just beside it. An old, crescent-shaped burn. Faded, but not forgotten. “That mark,” she said slowly, “That looks like—” “An old punishment brand,” I cut in, fast. “From the south. When I was a thief.”

I only remembered about it one afternoon when I was touring one of the family estates alone, wondering whether I should call him when someone suddenly appeared before me. It was a familiar face, but the cheek was covered in stubble and his eyes filled with tears the instant he saw me. I only stopped for a moment, before I started to turn and leave. He caught my wrist, however, and took out my ring with trembling fingers. I frowned but reached for it, only for him to lift it away from my grasp. Impatient, I snapped, "Is there even a point of doing this, Duke?" "Yes. If it brings me to you," he said, his voice cracking with tears as he pulled me into his arms. "You left me because I refused to

“By the council’s order, Rae Blackthorne is to be branded with the hunter’s mark. She will be stripped of any ties to Crescent Fang. Banished beyond our borders. Any who aid her will be considered traitors.” My heart stopped. “No…” My voice came out as a whisper. “Please, no. Damon….” Something changed in his eyes, but he didn’t move. The guards pulled me up, dragging me toward the center of the chamber where a stone altar stood. The iron brand glowed in the fire, its edges burning red-hot, the symbol carved into it sharp and cruel. “No! Stop! Please!” I thrashed, my screams echoing off the walls. “Damon, don’t let them do this! Please, you know me! You know I wouldn’t….”

Faelon growled threateningly and Atlas grunted. "I'm just curious about what you find interesting about her. I can see her ex did a number on her and she has a mark on her inner left thigh. Looks like a demon bite," Atlas exclaimed in fascination. Faelon's brow rose as he recalled Lucifer saying she was demon marked. "What does a demon mark mean? Do you know, reaper?" He asked. Atlas shrugged and told him he had no idea but Rai may know. Sophia went to the sink and got a glass of water. They both watched her take a pill and sigh.

Mara’s jaw dropped, her eyes fixed on the glowing skin. "The Mark," she whispered, her knees giving way as she sank into her seat. "Kael didn't just 'take me in,'" I said, staring Thorne down until the old man lowered his eyes. "He didn't protect me out of pity, and he didn't die for a stranger. He marked me. In the clearing, before he took his last breath, he tied his soul to mine." I looked around the room, making eye contact with every person who had just been calling for my blood.

They obeyed, their hands moving over the body, checking for anything that might give us more information, their focus sharp despite the unease that had settled over them. Then one of them paused. “There is a mark,” he said. I leaned slightly closer. He shifted the fabric. And there it was. The mark of the Blood Thorne pack. My expression hardened, though I did not allow anything more than that to show, because this was not a coincidence, and it was not random, and I could already feel the threads of something larger tightening around this moment. “The Blood Thorne,” I said quietly. The guards exchanged shocked glances. “This is our pack warrior seal” one of the muttered in confusion.