Matón Novels & Stories

Now we were laying on the bed with my head resting on his left arm and his right hand around my waist, it surprised me how I didn't feel anything sleeping on the same bed with him. All I know is that I felt safe anytime I'm with him, I then remembered that he promised to tell me about the mate thing. " Derek" I called him. " Yes my love" he answered. "You promised to tell me what a mate is" I said. " You never forget do you" I heard him chuckle for the first time. " Ok I'll tell you". He said. "I'm listening" I said. " A mate is someone who you spend your life with, when our kind finds out mate we're bound to them and they are bound to us forever" he said.

they are also a team for cyber warfare as well. convoy starting toward Patrick's new house at the royal housing society

Matt's once easygoing personality has slipped away to be replaced by the stern deadly Gamma I know hides underneath constant jokes and laughter. With a final nod to me, Matt steps further into the challenge area, his aura swirling around him like a storm. The closer he gets to the center, the more his energy pulsates into the air around us, reaching out into the crowd and making the sitting members shift uncomfortably. Matt's father, Toby, meets him in the middle. Both men look like the Gods of death in their black tactical gear, their faces stoic and lethal as they shake hands.

“Down!” I had my arm around Jace’s shoulders as I pushed him forward to the floor, and my other arm was around Malachi, and I gripped Levi’s jacket tightly. “Hylja sála!” Blue flames enveloped all of us as the bullets tore through the windows of the restaurant with deafening bursts.

I nodded briefly and walked out. Soren met me at the door and we walked down to the basement together, him walking a step behind as a sign of hierarchy and respect. At the bottom of the staircase was Dane, my head warrior which was just another word for gamma. He was the unofficial third in command, taking over if for any reason both Soren and I were indisposed. He was huge and bulky with hands that could crush a skull like glass but when he was being the fearsome gamma of the Black Moon pack, he was actually soft like a teddy bear.

Lucian Moretti – POV The war room was silent save for the low hum of the holographic display. A blue-print of the Vellaro estate glowed in the air between me, Razo, and Matteo. It was a decaying starfish of a building, all crumbling wings and blocked passages. “Guard rotation is every four hours. Sloppy,” Matteo pointed to three glowing dots near the main gate. “They spend more time smoking than watching the perimeter.”

Several hunters stepped away from me. Cassian moved closer. “Ronan.” My teeth sharpened. “If you touch her, Blackthorne, your territory will need a new Alpha before dawn.” Darius did not smile this time. Aldric slammed the base of his staff against the ground. “Thirty seconds.” The remaining hunters shifted into position. Several dropped forward as their wolves pushed toward the surface. Clothes split. Bones snapped. The air filled with the scent of fur, power, and anticipation. I remained human. Barely. I wanted my hands when I caught Maeve. I wanted to feel her beneath them.

This was Sector 7—the primary water-filtration plant located on the coastal edge of the New Dar es Salaam mega-structure. "Squad Zero, comms check," Ren ordered, his voice echoing with the cold, metallic modulation of his virtual tactical helmet. "Tank, online and ready to farm," Leo’s booming voice replied. Down on the ground floor, Leo’s massive, matte-black Juggernaut armor materialized from a cluster of blue loading pixels. He unslung his rotary heavy machine gun, the weapon giving off a low, predatory hum.

The building has three hundred and fourteen cameras. I know this because I spent a week cultivating a friendship with a mid-level IT contractor who works the overnight Laurent Axis security rotation. His name is Marc. He's thirty-two, divorced, plays chess online under a pseudonym he's very proud of, and has a cat he talks about more than he probably realizes. He's also lonely — the kind of loneliness that makes a person grateful for any attention, any conversation, any small sign that someone in the world has noticed they exist.