Muichiro Mark Novels & Stories

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.

For a second, I thought she might do something stupid after all. Then she straightened her shoulders under my coat and walked. Not broken. Not submissive. Just… moving forward because there was nowhere else to go. I watched until she disappeared up the stairs, the Mark on her shoulder hidden but humming at the edge of my awareness like a migraine that hadn’t fully arrived yet. Marco appeared at my side, having come in through a side door, blood still on his hands. “Well?” he asked. “Happy with your holy mess?” I exhaled slowly.

I don't answer. My room is exactly how I left it. Unmade bed. Half-empty coffee cup. Sketchbook open to a half-finished drawing of a wolf I don't remember drawing. I slam the door shut and press my back against it, sliding to the floor. My hands shake as I roll up my sleeve. The mark is still there. And for the first time, in the dim light, I realize It looks like a bite.

And that was not something that I had to end, that is, of course, if we were to keep our reign up. “We are going to have to control them, Cosimo. They keep growing stronger, and if this proceeds, then they won’t only target Italy.” Mikhail, one of my Russian partners stated. Though human, the man was stronger than his kind. It was his recessive gene that took over in his case. He couldn’t shift despite being the son of two wolves. A shame for his bloodline. “As if you need to tell me what I already know.” I stated bluntly. The man shook his head at me, and I raised an eyebrow. “You doubt my word.”

'I got this' I assured him. "Would you like to tell me about your mate?" I asked changing the topic. "What has that got to do with this?" He asked. "Is she tall and beautiful? Dark haired? kind and sweet?" I teased him waiting for a reaction and I wasn't disappointed. He struggled to break free from the chain but it only burned him more. Something told me it was silver. "She is dead" he lied. In the book I was reading when the mate of a mated wolf dies the mate mark begins to slowly fade. But his was still burning.

Lillianna cried out unable to help herself. He just imprinted his initials onto her body… He pressed it so hard holding her arm hard so she could not go anywhere. He kept it pressed for a few minutes before he pulled it off her. She was in tears. AJ assessed the result before he turned her around roughly and showed the mark to Tristan. “What does that say?” He asked. “It says AJ… AJ… She is now marked. I have branded her as my own. Is that enough for you to understand that she belongs to me!”

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”