True Blood Marcus Novels & Stories

FLORA "Then I guess I'll end up in prison or dead maybe, and Antonio will end up winning after all,” Marcus responded. I thought about everything that had happened. About how Marcus had looked when he found out the truth about his father. About how he had looked when he realized what Antonio had turned him into. About how he had saved all of us when he could have just saved himself. "Marcus," I said slowly. "Yeah?" "When you were reaching into your jacket in the basement, right before I passed out. What were you going for?"

Good. The bedroom door pushed open. Marcus walked in. He was loosening his tie, one hand on the knot. He looked wrecked, but in a good way. His skin was flushed. His shirt was unbuttoned one too many times. He smelled like sex He smelled like he had been rolling in Emilia. I looked at his neck. Right there, just above the collar of his shirt, was a fresh hickey. She had marked him. My wolf snarled inside my head. “Kill him. Rip his throat out.”

"This works. You get Damon. I distract Silas. The strike team takes out their leadership before the army can mobilize. It's clean." "Nothing about this is clean." "No. But it's necessary." A knock at the door interrupted us. Darius entered without waiting for permission, his expression urgent. "We have a problem," he said. Of course we did. Because nothing could ever be simple. "What kind of problem?" Caelan asked. "Marcus is dead." The words hit like a physical blow. "What?" "Found in his cell an hour ago. Throat slit. Clean kill." Darius's voice was tight. "Someone got to him before he could tell us anything else about Damon or Silas's plans."

Rebecca: "What the hell are you talking about," I ask. "Marcus, come on! Get over here." "How," Marcus asks. He lifts his camouflage shirt and shows me his bloody chest. "Son of a bitch," I say, covering my mouth as I step back. Marcus's stab wound is worse than I expected. Even though it's wrapped, there is still blood flowing out of it. The area around the wound is black. Looking at Marcus, I finally notice him. He is barely standing straight. His body and face are drenched in sweat and he's as pale as a ghost.

"Because we're not going to hand Lily over to you, not while I'm still here." Though I couldn’t see Chris's face since I was behind him and Alice, but just the way he stands with his large stature and his chest rises and falls from his slow heavy breaths intermixed with growls was enough to explain how mych they all despise this crooked man. Marcus was a sociopath who took satisfaction in causing pain to others. Look what he did to poor Alex. “Fine.” Declares Marcus. Crossing his arms and tilting his head in a taunting manner with a smirk. “Have it your way.”

"And because they've shown me through their actions that they care about doing the right thing even when it's difficult." Marcus looked at me for a long moment and then said "I hope you're right because if you're wrong then you're going to end up just like your mother." "Don't talk about my mother," I said. "You don't have the right." "I have every right because I loved her," Marcus said and there was real pain in his voice. "And I've spent every day since she died trying to make sure you didn't suffer the same fate." "By working with hunters and experimenting on captured werewolves?" I asked. "That's not love that's obsession."

Ariana's blood turned to ice. The Rogue King was Marcus - Nicolas's father, who everyone thought was dead. "You're supposed to be dead," Ariana whispered. "I've been dead to the werewolf world for many years," Marcus said. "But I've been very much alive and building my army of rogues. And now, thanks to you, I finally have a reason to destroy the Vinci pack." "I don't understand," Ariana said, confused and scared. Marcus stood up from his chair, and Ariana could see that he was even more intimidating than she had imagined.

When the door clicked shut, Marcus’s eyes locked onto hers. "You saw him too," he said. She nodded. He took a step closer. "Lorenzo." Again, she nodded. Marcus didn’t speak for a long moment. Instead, he walked to the liquor cabinet and poured a glass of whiskey. He didn’t drink it. Just held it, like it might steady his hands. "I should kill him," he said quietly. Raven’s breath caught. "He’s not—" "He is," Marcus interrupted, turning toward her. "He’s not the man you knew anymore. That man died when he walked through the gates today with a gun aimed at my family."

I never had the chance they did to get any energy back, as every time, that I would nearly fall asleep or something similar, they would wake me. Wrath would sink his fangs into either my neck or shoulder, one to drink, then the other just to hold me in place, and then Silas would make me drink once he was finished. Marcus, on the other hand, was much more brutal and cruel. He would enter me hard and make sure to dig his claws in, no matter where his hands were. I did manage to sink my fangs into Marcus's neck a couple of times, getting a good power hit from his Royal Rogue blood.

“You talk too much.” He ignored my words, taking a step closer. “I don’t want to hurt you or your pack,” he said. “You can still end this. Lay down your magic, call off your wolves, and I’ll let them live. Marcus doesn’t want to destroy you, he wants you alive. Useful.” I spat blood and laughed bitterly. “Alive? He wants to drain me dry and wear my bones as trophies.” Bram’s expression darkened. “Marcus showed me the truth,” he said firmly, conviction burning in his eyes. “He showed me what comes after this war. The world he’s building—one where we don’t have to hide from our curses.”