Nathan Scott Oth Novels & Stories

Nathan snapped as soon as he head the whisper, blinking as though he hadn’t realized Owen was beside him. "Huh?" He frowned, running a hand through his hair. "I asked if you’re okay. You looked quite…lost." Owen’s tone was lighter now, but the concern was real. Nathan shook his head too quickly, nodding at the same time. "Yeah..yeah, I’m fine," he managed to say, sounding like even he did not believe the words. As expected, Owen wasn’t convinced. He dropped one hand from his waist and stepped closer. “You broke things off with Scarlett, didn’t you?"

Nathan walks into the diner and flags down an older gentleman. “Oscar,” he beamed. “Nathan!” He smiled back, “I haven’t seen you in a while. Where have you been hiding?” “Work mostly,” he answered, “You know how it is. No rest for the wicked.” Oscar laughed, “Trust me, this old man knows.” He glanced at me, “Well, who is this lovely young lady you have with you? And why have you been hiding her from me.” He smiled and winked at me.

She was … breakable. How could he have mated to a woman who could be taken away from him so easily? “I need to go for a run,” Scott said. He pushed past his men and charged downstairs heading toward the door. “What do you want us to do when she wakes up?” Nathan asked. He stopped as he opened the door. Staring up the stairs, he saw the concern on both of their faces.

"At least you're not Nathan, the Scarred Wolf." Nathan's name comes from the fact that he has a mating mark, the only Pack Alpha in Seoul with one. It used to make people think less of Nathan, a seventeen-year-old kid with an Omega's mating mark. But Nathan had since grown up and proved himself capable beyond a doubt. "It just shows how stupid these titles are," Victor says, finishing his bourbon. "No one looks down on Nathan anymore." Harry nods in agreement. "Not anymore." The two do end up talking shop, exchanging information, trading commodities, and the like.

Ewan asked rather excitedly. “Yes, sir. Is there some significance to that name?” “When we raided the witches' coven, we found a book about the soul stone. The name beside it was Nathaniel. There are plenty of Nathaniels in this country, but if this one is truly a vampire, he could be planning to steal that girl’s soul. Or who knows what else he is planning with that stone? We can’t allow him to keep it and trap someone inside it.”

She didn't want to burden her brain anymore with Scout, who in fact was a lunatic asshole who was so obsessed with her after that accidental night. God, Olivia is really sick of this guy named Scout Voyage. Lying for a long time made Olivia sore and bored. She then sat down slowly while arranging her pillow behind her back so that it could support her waist and hips. "Hmm... this is better." "Olive." As Olivia was closing her eyes to feel the soft sensation of the pillow supporting her hips, Nathan suddenly came into her room with a wide grin on his face. "Are you better?" "I guess so," Olivia replied lazily.

Nathan. The name alone made something twist in my chest. A coil of warmth, curiosity, guilt, nostalgia. He hadn’t messaged in days and I’d told myself I hadn’t noticed. A lie. Nathan: Hey, just got back from Oaxaca. Thought of you when I tried that hibiscus and guava mole. Sending the article before it goes live.

When it was finished, he held a massive sum of money, but the weight of it felt like cold, dead ash. Theo stood, his presence now filling the room. "Mr. Hill," he said with a hint of calculated cruelty, "move your things out of the villa immediately. I need to scent-mark my new den before nightfall." Nathan’s jaw worked, his pride bleeding. "I... I will." He returned home, a ghost of the Alpha he once was. Victoria walked over, her scent still clinging to him with that desperate, parasitic need. "Nathan, you look gray. Is the hunt at the office exhausting you?"

Nathan stood up. He was thirty-six years old, the oldest veteran defenseman on the roster, and the alternate captain. His face was a map of scar tissue from fifteen seasons in the dirty areas of the ice. He had an Alpha profile that smelled like old copper and burnt coal, a dark, heavy presence that usually quieted a room by just entering it. Nathan walked across the rubber floor, his skates clicking in a slow, deliberate march toward my stall. The rest of the roster watched him move. The rookie held his breath.