Ronan Marvel Novels & Stories

“Ronan.” *** Thoughts??? ***

someone else sneered with self-loathing. "There is only one answer to change all of this" a powerful warrior named Ronan said to his brethren. Ronan is a bulky and very powerful wolf. He has jet black hair which is longer and reaches his shoulders. His black eyes are sharp and his nose is slightly crooked. Just a single punch from him is enough for his opponent to fall. He is loyal to his pack and is yet to find his mate. When the warriors of the Blue moon pack heard his words, they looked at him expectantly.

Donatello said, glaring at Marcus who raised an amused eyebrow. “Is that why you barged into her university event, Donatello? Or is it why you’re trying to get out of the partnership…” “What we do between one another as a company does not concern anyone. I believe that you gave us every right to have our private lives, and whatever happened last night stays between Alpha Nathan and I, especially since we chose not to harm each other, anyone around, or come forth to speak about it” Donatello said, glaring at Marcus who kept his eyebrow raised.

Victor was interested as he asked questions. “Okay, now I see why people prefer this over work,” Victor commented as one finished. “Its entertainment value is great.” “Wait till you see my favourite.” He was ready to watch another, and honestly I still had no call or even a message from Ronan, so I thought another hour of distraction would do the trick. I loved the Marvel movies. I didn’t even rest in his arms; I was on my own while Victor was on the villains’ side and I supported the heroes.

Their gazes on me were a heady mix: curiosity, wariness, respect, stubborn doubt. But no one looked away. Ronan waited in the center. Someone had gotten to him with a comb, at least. His dark hair was pushed back, the fading bruises along his jaw a bloom of yellow‑green against his tanned skin. He wore a clean shirt, the collar open enough that I could see the edge of the bandage wrapping his ribs. His usual black pants. Boots he could—and would—fight in. He’d refused any ceremonial cloak or crown. “I’m not draping myself in the symbols of a system that almost sacrificed you,” he’d said. “If they need proof I’m Alpha. They can look at the ground I’ve bled on and the choices I make. Not some

One wrong move and Ronan’s neck was gone. Ronan scrambled up, his shirt clinging to his back with sweat. He looked like someone had dumped a bucket of water on him. Every nerve in his body screamed danger, and he knew it. “I’m sorry, Mabel, but—” I hated that he was giving in. Not just to Zane’s order, but to the idea that Zane could walk in here and control everything. He wasn’t my boss. He wasn’t anyone’s boss outside his pack. Zane promised me he’d come to the festival. He didn’t. He promised me he’d show up. Instead, he disappeared with some random girl and now had the nerve to ruin the little peace I managed to carve out.

“Stormwind....break them!” The army marched forward, their claws and steel rending through the breach. For a passing moment, victory felt close. But then, a voice rolled across the battlefield. Very cold and mocking. “Well, well. My runaway Luna has finally found her claws.” That was Ronan. I froze, my blood turning to fire. My gaze snapped to the ramparts. There he stood, smug and unbothered, his armor gleaming with Ravenfall’s crest. His dark eyes locked on mine, and his lips twisted into a cruel smile.

"Mar, who asked you to say such things in front of Abigail?" Marlin stood his ground. "I wasn't making things up." In a swift move, Ronan grabbed Marlin's ear. "Who got you that Iron Man toy? I want the truth." Marlin finally gave in. "Okay, okay, I'll spill it. You didn't send me to say anything. It was Mobius who put me up to this." Releasing Marlin, Ronan turned to Abigail, looking slightly uneasy. "You heard him. It wasn't me who sent him to spread rumors. I'm content being just your friend, nothing more."

His voice was calm, confident, making my insides go weak like I wasn’t the one who’d been waiting, fuming, for thirty minutes. I stared. I froze. I might have forgotten to mention something important: Ronan Hale is… a demigod. If the gods had come down to Earth and mated with humans, creating dangerously perfect offspring… he would be the result. He was wickedly, stupidly, unnervingly handsome. And he knew it. Every inch of him radiated confidence, arrogance, and trouble. I forced myself to take a breath, clutching my notebook like it was a shield. This was going to be

A simmering flame that refused to go out. “Come on, Annabelle,” I whispered to myself. “You’ve survived worse.” A soft knock echoed against my apartment door. I frowned. “Who…?” I opened the door cautiously. Standing there was Ronan, someone I wasn’t expecting at all. He looked good as always and while moving away for him to come in I notice that he is holding a small lunch box wrapped in a cheerful yellow cloth.