Ronan Kree Novels & Stories

Noah The fact that Roni would believe such a thing about him spoke volumes. It was so like Kratz to make his past sound worse than it really was, but the kicker was that Roni was so ready to believe him. "So, let me see if I got this straight. This asshole comes back out of nowhere after walking out on you when your mother was dying, knowing he'd be leaving you all alone. Supposedly you're not interested in his ass anymore, even though months after you and him were through, you still had those fucking pictures up?"

With wide eyes, she looks up at mine, searching and probing. “You’re a Nero?” she asks in a breath. I nod, but realize that those listening can’t see it. “My name is Nova Ainsley. I grew up on Korpillion. I worked for Horne Energy, but for lunars before I escaped the planet, I was making illegal Neron weapons.” “The weapons maker?” Arden asks, and I can tell, her mind is reeling from all of the revelations.

If Kael felt like steady heat, this man felt like lightning waiting to strike. He leaned against one of the porch posts, arms crossed, dark hair pulled back loosely at his neck. His eyes were lighter than Kael’s — amber with flecks of green — and far less guarded. “Let me guess,” she said. “Also a werewolf. Also weirdly intense.” His grin was quick and sharp. “Ronan. Second-in-command. And I prefer ‘charmingly intense.’” She huffed a small laugh before she could stop herself. “Lena. Newly traumatized.”

It clawed at the earth, attempting to free itself, its massive body heaving with fury. Ronan seized this opportunity, leaping onto the creature’s back, his sword aimed at its heart. The creature thrashed wildly, attempting to throw him off, but Ronan held on with surprising strength. With a final, desperate lunge, he plunged his sword into the creature’s heart, a scream of pure agony echoing from the beast’s throat.

A low, dry laugh drifts in from the doorway, and every head in the room turns toward it. Ronan leans against the frame with one shoulder, sandy hair pushed back from his forehead in the careless way that takes him ten minutes in front of a mirror to fake, a heavy silver lighter turning end over end between two fingers. The burn scar along his forearm shows pale against the rolled cuff of his sleeve, the same scar he's had since the night five years ago when he tried to stop a ritual he had no power to stop. "The big bad Vane brothers, out maneuvered by a human lawyer." He says it light, easy, the practiced tone he's used on every hard conversation in this family since he learned to talk.

“Beer’s in the fridge.” Ronan dropped his keys on the entry table. Grabbed two bottles. Cracked them both. Handed one to Marek. They sat on opposite ends of the couch. Marek took a long pull. Watched Ronan over the rim. “You look like shit,” Marek said finally. Ronan snorted. “Thanks.” “Spill.” Ronan leaned forward. Elbows on knees. Bottle dangling between his fingers. “Harlan presented last night. Late-bloomer omega. Full heat. I… helped.”

And Ranon… Ranon stood apart, in nothing but black slacks, his powerful chest bare, revealing the intricate, swirling patterns of his claim tattoos, which seemed to glow faintly in the firelight, pulsating with a subtle, internal energy. His golden eyes, fixed on me, were molten pools of desire and profound tenderness. I stopped in the doorway, my breath catching in my throat, a sudden wave of warmth washing over me, flushing my skin. The sight of them, so carefully prepared, so utterly devoted, stole my words.

this blood-sucking creature is unlike anyone I've ever seen. His long dark hair is tied neatly into a bun, and his caramel eyes seem to burn into my soul as he stares at me with an unreadable expression. He looks curious and surprised to see me there, but also angry, or annoyed. "I'm Ronan, your master," he says. #

*“No…”* Kael’s voice didn’t sound human anymore. The dungeon corridor froze as the figure stepped into the torchlight. Tall, blood-soaked, wrong in every way that mattered. The face was unmistakable. Ronan Ravencrest. Kael’s older brother. The man whose death had shattered the pack ten years ago. Lyra’s pulse hammered against her ribs. Because Ronan should have been dead. She’d seen it. She’d smelled the iron in the air, felt the heat of his blood on her hands. She’d dragged herself away from his body, screaming his name until her throat tore.

Ronan managed to raise the three bodies, while Rena is standing on the edge of the cliff, she had called several officers to help bury them later. "Are you sure Alpha Nero already knows about this?" Ask one of the officers who came. His name is Roe, he is one of Riri's close friends. "I was ordered directly by Alpha Nero...just now, I just came from Arjuno's house...and Ronan, nephew of Alpha Burdak said that the two corpses below are his entourage when he last came here..." Rena explained calmly, so far a light mist..a normal natural phenomenon..nothing strange. Indeed, in this area often a thin white ark descends. Their visibility is limited but not too bad, the proof is that Rena can stil