Ninjago Zane Cole Novels & Stories

Then… A cold voice cut through the corridor. “Who the fuck gave you both the right to be down here?” Winnie froze. Nikolas stiffened. My blood turned to ice. I looked past Winnie’s head. Zane stood at the entrance. Tall, broad and dark His presence swallowed the hallway. He looked… bigger. Heavier. Like his rage had weight. My heart twisted painfully. Nikolas and Winnie bowed slightly. Winnie’s hands trembled. Zane ignored them. He walked forward slowly.

"Bah! Why drag up that badland disgrace on a night of triumph?" Chief Obinna Okafor drowns his silver goblet of iron-laced blood-wine, his eyes flashing yellow as he turns his back on me to glare at his male partner, Kieran Ashford. "Zanele was a wild, unbonded stray. She never understood the bloodline discipline of the Okafor Moonfang Clan. She died like a rogue in the badlands, and she certainly doesn't deserve my mourning."

With that, Cliff moved out of sight and down the hall, the door clicking softly behind him, leaving me alone. "It'll be fun besides if we wipe out you're a werewolf, and you have healing abilities," Visha stated before I could say anything in response, the garage door opened again, and Zane's body filled the doorway. He wore gray guess jeans and a black T-shirt that I was sure was some other expensive brand because, well, it was Zane. The shirt hugged his toned chest and muscular arms perfectly and left his tattooed arms and neck on perfect display. His onyx hair was tousled slightly, and he had decided against shaving today as I noticed the darker stubble on his face. I clenched my thighs t

"Zane!" Zane let out a cheeky smile, pulling his jacket over to himself, his messy dark hair scattered all around his face, his dark shirt, and Nicole couldn't help but notice the inky dark tattoo that flew from across his chest down to his jawline. He was cool looking, and his hands grabbed hers immediately. "Let us leave." He winked towards her, dragging her outside the room. "Why?" Nicole felt dizzy, her whole brain left her in a turmoil. "We all have to train, before and after bed." He pulled her across the hall. "If we are late, we get punished."

Who else would be watching a normal-looking boring girl if not a gingerhead? I turned around. Standing in the foyer just outside the window was Zane. He was wearing the same dark cloak he’d had on the night before at the club. The heavy breeze made his cloak flow around him, giving him this mysterious aura. I made a mental note to draw this image of him someday. My eyes traveled down to his arms which were full of black lines like tattoos. I could see the bone handle of a knife protruding from his side. He was looking right at me, the side of his narrow mouth quirked in amusement. He was mocking me. That’s the only reason I could think of. How long has he been standing there?

Zane. Zane was the artist. He was the most dangerous-looking of the five. He had dark, messy hair and tattoos that covered his thick arms like snakes. He didn't care about suits or science. He cared about feelings, colors, and the raw beauty of the body. His studio was at the very end of the hall, and it was the only room that was always locked. That evening, the door was open.

Hair tired into two ponytails, leggings tight enough to cling to her body like a second skin. “Eyes on me, Callaghan” Zane clasped the ball between his hands. “We have a score to settle, remember?” Him and his little one-sided beef. What more did I have to do prove I just didn't care about this anymore? “Not interested—” “Like hell you're not” he spat. Zane reached for the hem of his shirt, then raised it high and displayed the bandages wrapped around his lower abdomen. “I need something you have. So, why don't we make a bet?”

A scene from a fairytale. “What do you want, Joana?” She plucked a leaf, rolled it between her fingers. “To be underestimated.” He laughed softly. “That’s not something you ask for.” “It is if it’s the weapon.” She turned her head slightly. Just enough for him to see the ghost of something dangerous in her eyes. Zane’s training began the next morning. The instructor was a man named Luka. He was stoic, brutal, and surgical in every move. By the end of the first hour, Zane’s palms were raw and his arms burned.

I ask him while grabbing his neck tightly and picking him up. “Alpha, you need to calm down,” Trevor said trying to remove my hand from his neck. “You have to calm down, Cole otherwise you will kill him and we were not able to get the information we need from him,” Zane said trying to pull me away from him which drew my attention and I closed my eyes in an attempt to calm myself.

Moving with a precision that made it look effortless even though I knew it wasn't, and he pulled his stick back to take the shot— And that's when I saw Cole abandon his position in the middle of the ice. Skating straight toward Zane with an intensity that had nothing to do with strategy and everything to do with rage.