Tommy Oliver Black Dino Ranger Novels & Stories

His wolf growling. “Trevor, can you zip me up.” Oliver was by her side before Trevor could. “I got it,” offered Oliver, grabbing the zipper and trailing up her back, allowing his hands to lightly touch her. Raven shuddered at the touch. She turned around when he was done, looking at him closely. She couldn’t see anything, he had a different mask this time. Couldn’t see anything through it, and he was completely clad in black. There was a pull about him.

"I don't remember an Orange Ranger." "Yeah, no, Orange wasn't in the older shows. It's just the six of us in the photo, but if I'm remembering the colors right... The other people we were with that day were Black, Red and Purple." "Gotcha." I used the photo as a makeshift cheat sheet. "Blue Ranger is your business partner in Scope, right?"

I saw black and white roses and some funny ones, like one of Baby Yoda and a bandaite tattoo. When he turned around I realized he had a tattoo of his dogs on the top of his shoulders. “Are you checking me out?” He asked as he smirked. “Yes, I am, handsome” I replied. “Mom!” Oliver shouted embarrassed. Shit, I didn’t realize he could hear us. “Sorry Oliver. But I was just looking at his tattoo’s. They’re really cool.”

We grab our stuff and immediately appear in my living room. “Mom! Dad!” They immediately rush to the living room and I can tell mom is mind linking someone. Less than ten seconds have gone by as Dimitri appears. “What happened,” asks mom as Dimitri looks over Oliver’s injuries. “I had that feeling we were being followed again. Next thing we knew, Oliver disappeared on us and came back bleeding.” “It’s definitely a hybrid sir. I saw the black wolf use magic,” says Oliver as Dimitri uses magic to heal his arm. “Black wolf,” asks mom with a worried tone.

A busboy coolly reached under a booth seat and leveled a weapon straight at the gang’s muscle. Weapons glinted in every direction. Half the damn diner was ours. The Black Reapers froze. Tommy raised both hands slowly, face pale now despite the ink and bravado. “Easy! Easy, man! Nobody’s starting a war in here.” Darrow was already behind me, gripping my arm tight. “Damien.” I breathed hard, chest heaving, fists still twitching. My wound ached like hell, but the rage in my veins burned hotter. “I told you,” Tommy said, voice shaking just a little as he adjusted his collar. “We don’t know who she is. But we’ll work with you. We’ll ask around, call in favors. If she’s got that much money, someon

“This girl can make friends even in the bathroom.” “Guys!” a guy interrupts us. He’s not very tall and his hair is a dark brown. He’s wearing the same leather clothes I saw on the Black Tiger. I guess he just came back from a mission. “Hey, Jack!” Jayden waves to him. “Come here!”

He doesn't answer, just nods. I sigh and look around the diner. It's Saturday evening and a lot of customers are beginning to step inside. The bell on top of the door rings, signaling their new customer. I stare at this new customer and cuss underneath my breath. All of a sudden, the place seems small in the presence of my boss, Killian Black. He's dressed in a dark green denim jacket, and black pants. I don't get to stare at him for too long because his eyes meet mine at once.

- I am… My words died in my throat as the new ranger got out of the car. His tall, muscular body towered over mine, bulging biceps trying to poke out through the rolled-up sleeves of his work shirt. He wore dark blue jeans and work boots with the laces loose, and he looked like he'd just walked off the set of a Sexy Bikers calendar shoot. On the edge of his sleeve, I caught the outline of a black and gray tattoo encircling his upper arm.

He’s tall but not as wide set as the other guys, but he is no less ripped and one of the fastest warriors I have ever seen. Oliver, our future Gamma, looks like your stereotypical biker. Medium length, dark brown, almost black hair that falls forward obscuring his face and piercing brown eyes that are almost as dark give off a ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe. He has tattoos on both forearms and one on his chest, just peeking out of the collar of his shirt. He is the most quiet of the group, lending to the mysteriousness. His expression is regularly bordering on resting b*tch face.

I muttered to myself. I got up and walked to the window, cradling the baby, annoyed by the loud noise that had woken him up and made him cry. I squinted at the figure that straddled the expensive-looking bike. Whoever it was, looked as though they were going to Comic-Con, dressed as a Power Ranger. It wasn’t until he removed his helmet, I recognized who it was. It was only Tyler frickin’ Blackmore. I muttered a sentence that if Mom had heard, would’ve earned me a harsh lecture and a week’s worth of chores.