Muichiro Mark Novels & Stories

JACE ‘JR’ ASHER/ TRIGGER ‘AND ON HIS RIGHT, WE HAVE MICHAEL MARKOVICH’ Marius, the occasional driver of Nicolas Amato pointed blandly at the punk seated at the lanai, sharing a cigar with the boss. The Armani suit clad guy turned twenty-four last year getting his trust fund after his father’s death and while he was new in the game, Michael Markovich was pretty well known. A business man on the outside and a shady arms dealer on the inside. AND LIKE Nicolas Amato, the Feds had nothing on him but rumors and the regular witnesses that disappeared before they could take a stand in court.

“I know you will have a lot of questions about me, so let's get this show on the road. What do you want to know?” I shrugged, “tell me about yourself.” I guessed that was as good as any place to start. He pulled out a pot and started cooking the pasta concoction, his smile growing. “Hi, I'm Marco Smith. Twenty five years old, Research assistant in the Physiology Department. I’m currently from Glasgow, although I spent most of my life in Madrid, Spain.” “Well that explains the tan,” I commented, indicating his golden bronze arms.

“I would like to have a word with you, but only…” “Who is this Omega, Alpha Leo?” I heard the voice of the lady. “My servant…” “Servant?” My head raised and I scoffed in anger. Did he just call me his servant? This beast was unbelievable. “You got yourself a new servant? Why is she not in her uniform, and why?” The lady ambled towards me. She cupped my cheeks and tilted my head a little, getting a better view of the beast mark on me. “Why does she carry your mark, Alpha Leo?”

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Tells her mother and the police that it was Stacy who invited the man named Mark to the house. According to the identification tag found by the police in his trouser pocket, the young man's name was Marco Stefanus. He is more often called by the name Mark. He is a restaurant keeper who works freelance as well as a final year student who should have been three years ago. He did not continue his studies and prefers to live life on the streets until he ends up being a restaurant keeper.

He hung his uncovered light head. Nobody addressed or even checked Daniel out. Lawrence couldnt tell whether he was annoyed by being forgotten about or whether he favored it. When she arrived at the rear of the little group, the internment was attracting to a nearby. A name was cut into a level dim gravestone: Clementine Hunter M?ller. A kid, no more established than twelve, with dim hair and fair skin and tears spilling down his face, helped his dad - her dad from this other life?- - scoop the primary hill of soil over the grave.

explained leaving me frozen “He hasn’t been the same since then, Olivia.” “Did you live in Chicago?” I asked confused. Mark and I had prepared everything to move there, but I understood that Matt lived here in New York, with his father. Mark's mother had married her first boyfriend after leaving high school and got pregnant with Matt, but three years later they divorced and that was when Gloria met Richard, Mark's father and they ended up having him soon. I met Matt when he was seventeen and Mark and I just thirteen, he lived with Gloria until he went to Columbia and moved to New York with his father.

“To be honest, I don’t really remember what I screamed. It was a little before… “Of course, a huge beast is rushing after you. I can’t even imagine how it is - a wolf puts a mark on a person, - Marta threw up her hands. - Huge mouth and thin neck! “It was more fun when she marked him,” Ba said. All the women, except those who joined us later, laughed. I was at that wedding ceremony, but I already remember the details very badly. "His mark healed much faster," Lark grumbled, adjusting the collar of his shirt to hide the bite mark. No matter how many years passed, it was still clearly visible. Wangity label, true pair label.

We made our way to two empty seats at the back. “Hey,” Liam whispered moving over for us to sit next to him. “Get lost asshole,” Macy retorted before I could say a word in response. She held my hand and made me sit. “What is going on? Why do you look so pale?” she whispered. My gaze never left his. I gulped. “Why is he here? Where is the arts professor?” “Oh, that? Didn’t you get the mail? Professor Brown retired to his hometown. Professor Sebastian got transferred as his replacement. He’s hot isn’t he? That’s the reason why you were so distracted…”

"Mr. Lucian Volkov." Lucian Volkov. Lycan. Mafia king. Ruthless bastard who controlled half the underground operations on the East Coast. "Send him in." The door opened, and Lucian Volkov walked into my office like he owned it. He was massive—at least six-foot-four, built like violence wrapped in an expensive Italian suit. Dark hair pushed back from a face that was all sharp angles and brutal beauty. His amber eyes locked onto me with an intensity that would have made the old Amara drop her gaze.