Scout Falcon Atkins Novels & Stories

“Don’t you have training to do?” “It’s not nearly as fun as watching you.” I countered, pouting just a bit. My eyes found the tattoo that started at his shoulder and snaked down his back. A scaled dragon, full of razor-sharp teeth and eyes glistening with intelligence. Its tail was curled around his waist, and ended in a tuft of dangerous points. Atlas’s tattoo seemed much brighter now; definitely brighter than the faded blue it had been in the past. His dragon, it looked as though it were made from ice.

A sharp, rhythmic whistling note cut through the rumble of the wagon wheels. High above the orchard tree line, a single black-winged falcon circled twice in a tight, frantic arc before dropping like a stone toward the lead scout’s position. It was Kael’s hunting bird, its talons wrapped in a narrow strip of crimson silk that signified an approaching column. "Cavalry," Dmitry hissed, his hand instinctively dropping to the ivory hilt of his saber as his mount reared in temporary, instinctual panic. "Not cavalry," Natalia said, her acute Lycan ears filtering out the squeak of the wagon’s ungreased axles to catch a different, more mechanical sound drifting up from the southern dip of the highway

She was a weird one that one. Atlas chooses a pair of Montblanc cufflinks and places them in his cuffs. He is looking mighty fine. I’m surprised Fallon is letting him out on his own, although if they’ve had a fight I’m sure he hasn’t told her. “Do you need to check in with Fallon?” I ask him, only they’re a great couple and she is a fantastic girl. Not one of those girls who just wants to be associated with a hockey player for the prestige, fame and the money. Nah, not Fallon. She’s got a proper head on her shoulders, come from her own families money, works hard at her law degree and is going places on her own. She doesn’t need to hang off some dude’s arm.

"I saved the spot. Ryan was going to-" "I don't care about Ryan!" Jax snapped, his eyes snapping open. They were dark, reflecting the passing streetlights. "I care about the scouts. I care about getting out of this town. Do you know what happens to me if the Falcons get hit with a fraud scandal? I’m done. My name is tied to yours." "So report me then. Get it over with."

Mia purrs. “Mia, I hope that he’s ours and that we’re his.” “He would be the perfect mate, Cobalt and I talk, we only hope that we’re both right.” She purrs. Then I hear twigs snapping. I smell Alpha Wyatt; He has my knees weak at his intoxicating scent. It’s taking everything in me to not run and find him. I hear a growl and look up to see him, he’s wearing a tux, holding another flower—the twelfth one to my bouquet.

The launch of the Atmospheric Scout was a moment of crystalline tension that vibrated through every silver vine in the valley. Toby sat within the pressurized cockpit of quartz and silver mesh, his kinetic energy already humming at a frequency that made the glass glow with a faint, violet light. As the engines ignited, a roar of pure resonance echoed through the crater, propelling the vessel upward with a speed that defied the old corporate physics. I stood on the landing platform beside Killian, my Tempered Heart drumming a steady sixty beats per minute, my gold ringed eyes tracking the silver needle as it pierced the heavy fog of the lower atmosphere.

‘That’s what I thought,’ he remarked with a faint smirk tugging at his lips. Him and his Alpha’s superiority! “There’s indeed someone else’s scent -” “Whose scent is it?” Dalton cut him off. “I can’t figure it out. It’s too vague.” The pack scout stood up and dusted his pants. Dalton knelt down on one knee and got close to the bottle of antiseptic. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath of the scent. His nose twitched as though overwhelmed by the different scents mixed together.

ATHENA The foam windscreen of a microphone scraped against my chin. Sweat trickled down my spine, pooling uncomfortably beneath the polyester collar of my Ashford coaching polo. "Miss Cole, given your... controversial exit from Westbridge, how do you justify taking the reins of a bottom-tier program like the Falcons?" The reporter shoved his digital recorder closer, his breath smelling heavily of stale coffee and mints. "Are you just trying to stay relevant, or do you actually believe you can beat Luca Ryder’s championship roster?"

"Black sedan, three o'clock. It's been sitting two lanes over since the last toll plaza. Tinted windows, no plates." I glanced to the right. A sleek, high-end Audi was pacing us, its engine humming with a suppressed power that didn't match the speed of traffic. It stayed perfectly level with the trailer. I felt the familiar prickle of adrenaline at the base of my neck. Elena's reach was long, and if she had already made contact with the remnants of the Death Dealers in Florida, this was just the welcoming committee. "I see him," I replied, shifting my weight and dropping a gear. The engine of my scout bike a stripped-down Kawasaki I was using for the trek growled in anticipation. "He's measu

Falcon kissed her cheek. "I guess it's settled then," Theo sighed. DJ slammed the trunk shut. "Now if you've packed all your ghost-friendly shoes, then it's time for us to go." "Excuse me?" Falcon snapped. "My footwear is strictly high fashion. These are glitter-laced House of Delamort boots from their post-apocalyptic couture line." "Your boots are louder than a banshee with IBS," Cameron growled. "They'll get us all killed. Plus, I don't know where you think we are going that you think you’ll need a whole damn suitcase that’s probably packed with nonsense."