Muichiro Marked Novels & Stories

"Wow, that's huge. It's worth it though." Why do I feel like Marco did. Although his expression isn't giving away anything suspicious. "Marco?" "Yes?" "What name did you buy in?" "Ermm.. What did you say?" "What name did you use to place your order." "What do you need the information for? It's not even useful." "Are you Hunter Mark?" "I'm Marco Lorenzo, last I checked." He says smiling. "I'm being dead serious." "Yes, I am." "Fifty bloom bottles? Really?"

The information, however, is of no help in finding her. "That's all we can do," Mark said, as if he wanted to end the case immediately. "Wait, let me see the security footage," I said to Mark. "Start from the beginning and zoom in." The video was played again. I stared wide-eyed at the three men walking down the hallway of my apartment, one of whom had a distinctive M tattoo on his wrist. I remember. It's a symbol for a special bodyguard. Mikeal's bodyguard.

Nicholas " You think Apphia is a marked wolf?" I repeat. “ We don't think. We are sure,” Mom says. I need help understanding. I look at them for elaboration. " A marked wolf is a shifter with divine powers. They possess powers that transcend human understanding," Dad explains. My mother sighs and relaxes in the chair as she begins to explain.

|Princess Zoey's Point Of View| A few days passed since I met the person who marked me, whose name is Micah. I tried my best to ignore that I was marked and forget that he existed. But the more I did, the more I remembered it. The more I tried to forget him, the more I remembered that he was in an underground dungeon. Also, as I am wearing a pheromone stopper ring, and he is wearing a similar one, it felt like we are wearing a pair of couple rings...

He had claimed her and for the rest of her life she would wear his mark just above her collar bone. She'd hardly noticed that her fingertips had trailed upward and were lightly touching the barely healed scars that fell a bit below the circular scar that wound about her neck. At least it had healed as it should, she thought with a sigh once she realized what she was doing, tilting her head back against the seat and allowing her eyes to close, her hand still pressed against the mark while Luca was apparently lost in his own thoughts.

Micky is the first to wake up, as always. He gets up, takes his clothes and goes to take a shower. His head was going round and round with what had happened. When he leaves the shower, he wraps his towel around his waist and looks for his toothbrush in the drawer of Alex's bathroom cabinet. He puts some toothpaste on it and, when he goes to brush his teeth, he looks in the mirror and sees the mark. In the crook of his neck was a white wolf lying between two black wolves, and above them a crown inside a full moon. It was a beautiful mark. One of the most beautiful he'd ever seen. He runs his fingers over the mark and shivers at how sensitive it is.

'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.

“So we reached out to Marco. He was happy to offer his help, and it turns out his wife, Musu, is a historian. She has access to records that I can’t even fathom. So… um… I’ll let her tell you the rest.” Marco’s wife steps forward with a broad smile. Her deep skin tone and wide-set eyes give her an exotic look. She hands Dad the envelope with a slight bow and waits while he opens it. He looks at the three pages from old books and scrolls that show a sigma mark that looks just like Orli’s.

“We’ve checked it several times. It’s all safe and sound, my master.” “I want to see it,” Kyle said. The man snapped his fingers, and four men ran over. They raised crowbars to the carton, and removed one of the wooden planks. They tore away at layer and layers of heavy-duty plastic. Finally, Kyle stepped up and reached in. He felt a cold, glass vial, and extracted it. He held it up, examining it under the light of a streetlamp. Just as he remembered. Microbes of the bubonic plague swarmed in his hand, perfectly intact. He smiled slowly.

Their howls died into silence, leaving only the rasp of our breathing, the stink of blood, and the broken bodies around us. Marek appeared at the treeline, flanked by his hunters. His grin was wide, proud, almost admiring. “You bleed well, rogue,” he said. “You fight well. Maybe too well.” His eyes gleamed as they fixed on me. “Let’s see how long that lasts.” And I knew — this was only the beginning.