Micah Black Mga Nobela at Kwento

she yelled after me. I walked into the kitchen to see Blake standing in front of the sink, his hands soapy up to his forearms as he dipped them back into the sink. He had on a tight white tee that showed off his rippling back muscles as he moved around the kitchen. My tongue darted out to wet my lips and I gulped at the sight. I stalked over to him, making sure to be quiet so he wouldn't notice and grabbed his ass, making him jerk in fright.

Takes a visible breath. "Neah." Her voice cracks on my name. "This is Micah. He is one of us." "One of us what?" My voice sounds distant to my own ears. "One of the twelve. From the list." The world tilts. The list. The USB drive. Twelve names. Most marked terminated. Two marked unknown. One of them was me. And standing in my driveway with eyes that glow gold is the other. "Micah's mother was Subject Four," Elena continues. Her words come faster now. Like she needs to get them out before she loses courage. "She died protecting him when he was sixteen. He has been in hiding since his markers activated two years ago."

"I heard you are from a different continent. Is that why…you are Black? Micah asked, looking at his very dark skin tone. Drigo was a Black man, but he knew little or nothing of his background or history; as such, he was always intrigued to learn. "Yes…" Drigo cleared his throat. "You are right." He answered, lowering his gaze. Micah darted her eyes across the room, then languidly took a few steps forward. "You are one of the king's council members, I suppose? "Affirmative." "Huh?! Micah creased her brows. "It means…yes." Drigo has learned so much he couldn't help but use some vocabulary when talking.

And that man, Nathaniel Lorentz. Micah jewel is back, but this time, as a different person__ Bianca.

Even after Micah rescued me and the new batch of kids from that man and found me a home with his family, it has never stopped. Micah is a badass assassin who works for some secret assassin guild. Of course, I only know this because he was the one that rescued me from that house of horrors. All of the assassins he works with are gorgeous and total bad assess. Seriously, all of the men are beyond gorgeous. I try not to think about it too much because of him. Who is him, you ask? Well, he’s Connor Archer.

“I sent him. I’m surprised he obeyed. I wanted you to know if he was saying the whole truth about Thomas asking him to spy on me.” “I ran his name through every channel we have access to,” he began. “No hits and no ties to Red Hand, no rogue affiliations. He has a clean history.” I raised a brow. “Too clean?” Reid nodded once. “Micah’s a nobody. Born to a minor family in a peripheral pack near Silver Hollow. Trained as a field courier. Just someone who slips in and out quietly, unnoticed.” “That sounds like exactly the kind of person Thomas would use.”

I'm just finishing sending off the text when Sophie, the receptionist, comes to fetch me. "Miss Fiona, Mr. Micah is here to see you." I brace myself as I step outside, mentally preparing for the confrontation I anticipate. Micah leans against his car, exuding an effortless confidence. He wears a black shirt that clings to his sculpted frame, sleeves casually rolled up, and his wild, untamed dark curls are tousled by the wind. He stands there like a predator, all sharp angles and rippling muscles, as if he's patiently waiting for his prey.

“That’s… that’s Micah Blackwood.” Vin’s expression didn’t change. “That’s not possible.” “He’s dead,” Damon said. “They said he died in the New Haven fire. I was seventeen—” “No,” Ava interrupted, eyes fixed on the man. “They said he died. But someone went to a lot of trouble to keep him breathing.” She stepped closer. Micah stirred. Just a twitch — then his eyes fluttered open. Bloodshot. Glazed. But conscious. He stared straight at Ava.