Mirko X Hawks Novels & Stories

One was desperate for freedom and the other terrified of the unknown. A single howl pierced the night and Lucas’ eyes immediately jumped to the source, narrowing slightly when he saw the familiar golden form of Hecate standing in front of the she wolves. He hadn’t even noticed Chloe shift, despite the fact he could hardly keep his eyes off of her, and his first instinct was to reach out and make sure that she was okay. He refrained though. It had Ares bristling and his own skin crawling but something was telling him to trust Chloe to see them through.

The next morning, the grand international stadium was once again filled to absolute maximum capacity. The crowd was a raging ocean of waving banners, screaming fans, and flashing camera lights. Today was the highly anticipated semi finals, and the pressure inside the arena was thick enough to choke on. The Hawks had survived the first round, but today, they were stepping onto the frozen sheet against an even tougher, far more terrifying opponent: The Russian National Team.

“So technically, I am alone. But not lonely, no. Just waiting.” “You mind if I wait with you, then?” He leans closer, and I catch a whiff of his cologne. Something woodsy and spicy. It goes straight to my cock. “Not at all.” “Good.” He grins, showing perfect white teeth. “I’m Hawk.” “Micah.” “Nice to meet you, Micah.” His eyes travel down to where the water hits my chest. “So these friends of yours—are they running late, or did you show up early?”

The Thunderhawks, Julian Drake’s team, were already skating, their dark jerseys a sickening reminder of the Mirkwood Pack’s creeping influence. This wasn’t a hockey game. This was the final, brutal piece of theater before the kill. Julian thought he was watching his prized pawn—the hockey star—play a meaningless game while the blackmail clock ticked down. He didn't know the player on the ice was the weapon, sharpened by Damian’s control and fueled by ten years of redirected vengeance.