Soren Mcsm Novels & Stories

Directly across. Of course he does. His gaze lifts then, deliberately slow until it finds mine and locks there. For a split second, something flickers. Recognition. Calculation. Surprise, maybe, but if it exists, he buries it fast. What he offers instead is polite interest, the kind reserved for strangers who might become useful. “Nora,” McAllister says, gesturing between us, oblivious to the war detonating under the table. “I'm sure you know David Reid. He’s our… well, silent partner, for lack of a better term.”

SASR. Captain Jack McCormack crouched near the open side door, one hand on the frame, the other on the sling of his SIG MCX. Through the haloed glow of the NVGs, the dunes rolled beneath them like the backs of sleeping leviathans. He ran the checklist without looking: suppressor threaded; secondary Glock seated; encrypted comms paired; drone uplinked; beacon off; IR strobe taped. Everything ready. Everything familiar. Everything that had ever mattered to him fit inside the silhouette of his kit.

“I’m not sure which one she is. Who is her father?” “He was called Colin before he passed away,” Aaron explained. “Seana O’Malley was her great-aunt.” “Oh, that’s right. Renny’s niece,” the old man nodded. “Beautiful girl.” Aaron said nothing, only stared at his grandfather, blue eyes narrowed in anticipation. “Well, my boy, if I’m not mistaken,” he began in a softer voice than Aaron had heard in a while, “it is the Seamus O’Malley family, the one that lives near the base of Mount Torc, that is protected as members of the Order.”

“Just a jab between friends. It really is a miracle he let you out alive.” “Precious cargo,” Domenico said as he pulled me tighter to him. Malcolm sat back down. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked and we both shook our heads and thanked him. “I take it things have settled down in the Ferrante camp?” “More or less,” Domenico said with a nod. “Speaking of, I will be taking over management of some of our overseas accounts.” “Moving up, la Bestia?” Malcolm asked. “Why ask questions you already know the answer to?”

'I’ll help you tear this place down. Soren blinked and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Sorry. I just... I never thought I’d see Subject Two in person." My stomach did a sick flip. 'Subject Two?' "I’m Soren," he said, sliding into the empty chair. His knuckles were white as he gripped the table. "I work in biogenetics." "He helped make the pack vaccines," Mireille added. She watched me closely, her expression unreadable. Soren leaned toward Mireille, whispering as if I weren't there. "Can we trust her? She looks so much like him."

The packhouse's musk grew stronger on the wind, a reminder of the warmth and camaraderie that awaited them after this pivotal moment. Soren, the pack's venerable elder, stepped forward from the circle's northern arc, his presence a grounding force amid the night's mysticism. At sixty, his silver-streaked hair fell in loose waves to his shoulders, framing a face weathered by time and trials—deep lines around his brown eyes, a scar tracing his jaw from an old battle, and a posture that spoke of quiet authority. He wore a robe of dark wool, its hem embroidered with silver threads depicting the phases of the moon, and in his gnarled hands, he clutched the lunar staff: a six-foot shaft of polishe

“Even when you beat me, I was so fucking proud of you.” Soren moaned, legs wrapped tight around JR’s waist. “Love you. Fuck…. I love you so much.” They came together, loud and messy, then lay tangled on the carpet afterward. Soren traced JR’s jaw. “My agent called earlier. Seattle made a formal offer. They want me, a lot.” JR went still. “And what do you want?” Soren looked at him seriously. “I want to play with you, on the same team and same line. I want us to build something real not just survive the scandal, but thrive.”

It was 12:06pm, the sun had almost peaked. “Close your eyes,” Dad said, “Feel the Goddesses.” I followed his command and tilted my head back, the heat of the sun falling on my face. “I, Alpha Leonardo Loren of the Stella pack, grant my full power and authority to my son, Cato Loren, when the sun reaches its solar noon on his seventeenth birthday.” Now it was my line. We’d rehearsed this dozens of times. “And I, Cato Loren, pledge my allegiance to the Stella pack and oath to use this power to help its people thrive and prosper. To stand by my side, I elect Elias Smith as my Beta and introduce Jessica Michaels as my Luna.”

I froze. A man stood by the edge of the trees, lighting a cigarette with steady hands. Smoke curled around him like a crown of shadows. He looked like sin in a suit, dark, dangerous, and maddeningly composed. His eyes didn’t flinch, didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem to care that I was on the verge of collapsing, yelling, or trying to escape. He was watching me like I was a mildly interesting movie he didn’t pay to see. He was watching like he was actually enjoying it!

Lorenzo leaned in and whispered it against my ear, surrounding me with his possessive pheromones and sending a very clear message to everyone in that room. I was untouchable. I looked toward Stephanie, who was standing in the back with the press team, and she winked at me like an accomplice. I knew they were all trying to make me feel less nervous, but that wasn’t easy when the reporters started throwing questions at us and the camera flashes hit my eyes. “One more photo and this press conference is over,” Lorenzo said, covering my eyes with his hand as his voice rang out with pure dominance. The room went so still even a fly would’ve thought twice before buzzing. And honestly, Lorenzo was n