Max Brooks Minecraft Novels & Stories

I ask playfully. He shoots me a sideways glance. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see, princess.” A smirk tugs at his lips. I’m starting to learn that there are a few different versions of Brock. There’s this one- my personal favorite. The one that’s sarcastic and snarky. The one who likes to play and laugh. Then there’s the broody guy that shuts down. The intense one. The one who is so crippled by his past that he can’t move into the future. And then there’s the one that’s completely devoid of emotion, like a goddamn robot. All business all the time. That last one scares me a little. He’s hard and ruthless- I feel like he could watch the life drain from someone’s eyes without flinching.

"I'm not running from anything." Brooks hummed low, as if he didn't quite believe me. "Right. Of course not." The room seemed to shrink, as if the walls had closed in on me while I wasn't looking. Brooks was a master of moving around people, pushing them, poking at their defenses just to see where they would crack. And currently, I could see that he was having the time of his life. "See, you know," he thought, his voice dropping slightly, "I don't know, how much of you is really you? And how much is just whatever Tristan permits you to be? Tristan can be quite controlling."

Becky rolls her eyes at me after she manages to give me the final stitch. ‘You’re the Lord of our coven, who's supposed to be strong and powerful, yet here you are being the biggest sook over a few stitches.’ ‘You just gave me six stitches on my arm and another fourteen on my chest! So that’s more than a few stitches.’ ‘The lion’s breath was supposed to make you brave and not sook the entire time. Must have been a dud bottle,’ Becky laughs.

News about him has been non-existent, so I imagine he has been killed. Soon, the whole place is emptied and I am alone once more, standing underneath the sunset. I want a drink to drown out the pain and hopelessness I feel, but I feel like too much of an intruder to do that. “Miss Houston?” I hear a voice I recognize as Brooks’ say beside me. I look at him. Brooks is a bit old. He is an Olympic sharpshooter that Howard had recruited. He has a bit of a piratical look about him, with a scar running down the side of his rugged face.

A lot. To my surprise, the responses fly in instantly. Mace: You're never bothering us, little warrior. You can message us whenever you want. Even if it's just to say you miss us as much as we miss you. Niko: What he said. I'm already pissed I haven't seen you or Zuri today, please bother us as much as you want. It might just stop me from beating your brother's ass the next time I see him. Me: As much as I don't exactly love violence, I approve.

I was supposed to be free of my brother and his psychotic best friend for the best years of my life but they are just a building away. The two of them are inseparable, although they don’t like when I make jokes that they should just marry each other because their bromance is ridiculous. But, even though Kane drives me insane and he’s the reason my index finger doesn’t bend all the way, I still care about him. He stayed with us all the time after he and Landon became best friends. I remember he showed up one night when he was around 15, he was covered in blood and crying. I’d never seen Kane cry before, but after that he came to live with us. I don’t know the extent of his home life and I nev

And they had traded him for Carl. "Don’t do this, Brooks," Carl cut in, his voice desperate as he rubbed Brooks's arm. "You still have me. I’m the blood heir. I’m the one who matters, right?" Brooks recoiled, shaking his head frantically. "Search the perimeter!" Marcus bellowed, his voice cracking. "He can't be gone! Find him!" They scrambled toward the edge of the Timberland Wall. Their designer shoes skidded on the loose gravel and grit. The wind was a predatory howl, whipping the rain into their eyes.

The man I had given myself to in a moment I could barely even remember clearly now. And now…… My stepbrother. My mate. My world tilted again just by thinking about it. I finally stopped when I reached a quiet stretch near the silver fang forest line. My legs gave out and i collapsed against a tree, gasping for air as everything caught up with me at once. “No”……. I whispered to myself. “This can’t be real”. My hands trembled as i pressed them against my chest, trying to calm the violent pounding of my heart.

“Where have you been all night, Alessia?” Marco stepped out from the hallway that connected to the kitchen. My second oldest brother, twenty-nine years old, quiet and aggressive as always. He stood there in a dark blue shirt and pants, arms crossed, eyes sharp even in the dim morning light. He had always been the observant one. The brother who noticed when things were off.

SilverClaw soldiers fell, weapons clattering to the dirt. I screamed as one lunged toward me, but before he could touch me, a blur struck him from the side. Zade. Not shifted, not a wolf, but his fists were merciless, his body moving with the desperation of a man who had nothing left to lose. He slammed the guard into the ground, punching until the man stopped moving. His head snapped up, eyes finding mine, burning, frantic. “Brooks!” For one heartbeat, hope surged through me, white-hot and alive.