Strange Adventures Of A Broke Mercenary Novels & Stories

Nikaulas' tilted his head, appraising the trembling being in front of him. The man's hands were clasped together and his eyes were pleading for mercy. Of course, what Nik had for him was better than mercy. His urine drenched pants was offputting for sure. Nik snorted. What a waste of cock. "I..I can be very useful. I have intels on them," the man tried to negotiate in a shaking voice. Nikaulas smirked, amused.

They watched as I screamed as I ran so fast until I lost control of my legs and fell right on the sidewalk leading to the gate. My elbow rubbed against the rough, hard concrete. I felt it heated, but I didn't care about the pain because my heart was hurting more and more. I'm so broken. But there's someone approached me, I heard Travis' voice calling me as well. But there are also warriors who support me to stand up. They almost pulled me upright, until Travis told them, "Let me help her."

A bright smile played on his lips which made me even more confused and angry. “Who are you, what do you want to from!” I yelled out loud pouring out my frustration. I was tired of being pushed around by these men, I knew I needed to fight back. “Calm down, soon enough you will remember who I was and you will understand why I had to take you away from King Derek's pack” the strange man replied a smile of satisfaction playing on his lips. “Please, I beg you, please take me back to my baby, he needs me. He needs his mother, I need to breastfeed him” I pleaded with him kneeling on the floor to see if he was going to show me mercy and let me go.

the one that was better among them answered. “Hello, pretty!” The voice echoed in the warehouse. A middle-aged guy with his men, who was around eight of them, entered the warehouse prowled towards me. I arched my eyebrows looking clearly at the face that walked in the front. It was obvious that he was the boss. “Lorenzo,” I recalled this guy. The one that made Dexter pissed off at the charity event. “I can’t believe you are the one who kidnapped me!” I scowled with anger.

Don't be too long, though. It had rained heavily, the previous day, which had swept much of the accumulated waste from the cobblestones. The unpaved streets, though, were churned mud, with horse and human shit mixed in. Down on the docks, I found a mercenary I'd worked with once before, a stocky fellow named Braida. He'd obviously survived the pox as a child, but his face would always bear the scars. I didn't care about his looks, though; actually, the more fearsome the better.

A second strike followed instantly and it kept coming and coming as steel flashed repeatedly. The blade finally made a shallow cut across my shoulders. Pain burned through the cut. It was time to end this. A growl left my throat, Brook pleading to have a taste of blood. My claws lengthened, muscles expanded, fangs protruding. I shifted, but not fully. The mercenary took a step backward as the ground cracked beneath his feet. I caught his sword, snapping the blade in half. Smoke hissed through the air as silver burned my skin. I threw the broken blades effortlessly.

Warren wiped his eyes and examined the bell himself, "I wonder where they came from." "From across the ocean is my guess. Port Cities have become a hotspot for obscure magical activity. My guess is these guys hopped a boat and came in search of easier prey." "How did you become a mercenary?" Cyrus asked and then looked away. They had just met, and he felt the questions were a bit too soon. Cyrus chuckled, "I was overseas, Iraq, you know the war on terror. Anyway, we were in the middle of a hot zone when a group of things called Ghuls I Beanban appeared."

Then, a person covered head to toe in grime climbed out, hastily crying, "Hey, wait! This is all a misunderstanding! Don't attack, okay? I'm coming out right now!" After wiping the dirt off his face, Andrew finally saw him clearly. He was a skinny man with torn combat gear, and blood was still seeping from his shoulder. His appearance was shifty, and his eyes kept darting over Andrew. "You're a wasteland mercenary?" Andrew saw through him and asked directly. The man immediately forced a dry laugh. "Sir, you have sharp eyes. Yes, I am Jeremy Kramer from the Lone Wolf Mercenary Group." Andrew asked again, "Since you are a mercenary, why were you hiding in a grave? Were you looking for corpses

Soon, everything would fall into place. A few minutes later, the door opened again, and the mercenary walked in. He was exactly what I expected: Tall, broad-shouldered, with a burly frame that filled the doorway. His clothes were simple, rugged, and stained with the dirt of many roads. A thick scar ran down the side of his face, disappearing into a tangle of unkempt hair. His eyes were cold and calculating, the eyes of a man who had seen and done things that would make most people shudder.

His hand slammed into my wrist. Pain shot through my arm. My knife flew from my grasp. The next blow hit my ribs. The world tilted. I crashed into the wall hard enough to see stars. I tried to stand. Tried to fight. But exhaustion was finally catching up to me. Then I glanced toward Mel. Just for a second. The mistake cost me. The stranger closed the distance instantly. His hand locked around my arm. And the bond exploded. Atlas. The sensation hit me like lightning. Rage.