Zane Skin Minecraft Novels & Stories

And why the hell does he have to look like that? Zane isn’t dressed for training the way the rest of the pack is. No loose tank. No standard issue gear. He’s wearing fitted black combat pants that sit low on his hips, clinging to thick thighs like they were designed specifically to remind women why self-control is a myth. And that outline of his package… holy hell. I’m fucking salivating. I swear my beast is purring in my head. A dark long-sleeve compression shirt moulds to his torso, stretched tight over his broad shoulders and chest. The pack sigil is stamped over his heart.

“Come on. I’m only being crowned as Luna, not getting mated. Besides, Zane and I haven’t even spoken properly about what to do with this mate bond.” Ava rolled her eyes. “You both have feelings for each other. Why suffer us with your stubbornness?” I laughed softly. “Be patient, Ava. Let Zane sort out his pack first. Then we’ll figure out this bond stuff.” She stared at me knowingly. Then suddenly snares… “He’s here.” And she disappeared. A knock followed almost immediately. I smoothed my dress, inhaled slowly. “Come in.” The door opened. Zane stepped inside. Black trousers. Black shirt. Ruby tie. Draped over his shoulder was a black fur coat almost identical to the white one I’d bought yest

But it vanishes as soon as we arrive at the hosting pack. The New Dawn pack is known for their vileness in battles and thirst for cold blood, I shudder at how cold the pack is. Zane’s cold aura adds to my anxiety and my fingers begin to tremble, maybe it’s because I’ve not been to a tournament before. The others are less concerned about the environment, they cheer their way into the arena where the fight will be fought. “There is always a cold weather in this pack so you better grab a coat and scarf,” Zane informs me with the coldest voice I’ve ever heard.

Shirley snapped her eyes open as she felt something bright enough to blind her at the moment on her face, she turns only to see it was the ray of light filtering in from the window. "Good morning, your royal Majesty" she turned to find Zane staring right at her, his hand tucked into the pocket of his neatly ironed trousers. He looks so flawless and irresistible in the navy blue shirt, black shorts and adidas sneakers he was wearing. If possible he looks more handsome than yesterday when she last saw him, the sun was playing with his sea-blue eyes, if you stare at them for so long, it will look as if it trying to suck you in. "Take a picture, It lasts longer," Zane said.

The man dodged and took a step back. “Whoa buddy, easy!” The man exclaims. Zane snaps back to reality, realizing where he is and lowers his fists. He steadies his breathing and apologized: “I’m sorry, I’m still in my survival mode. I just got here, my name is Zane.” The man, who Zane now looked at clearly was about 5 '9, a bit taller than him, had shaved blonde sandy hair, a muscular build, and large hands. He had camouflage pants and a camouflage shirt on with sunglasses so he couldn’t see his eyes and he seemed to relax a bit.

Her reflexes are unmatched. Zane looks shocked but not as shocked as he does when I snap his neck. His pale blue eyes hold only hate and then emptiness. I would have wanted him to live. He is my baby cousin, only 20, unmated. I didn’t want to, but he left me no choice.

He stopped and raised his head, looking past me. The smell of burning reached me first, and I started to feel a familiar heat slowly grow behind me. I turned around, allowing relief slowly seep into my heart. Zane stepped into the clearing, already shirtless with nothing but scraps of what must have been his shirt hanging against his skin. Lightning flashed against his skin, and every breath and poured out of his mouth was pure, silver steam. “So you dare step into this territory?” The single question appeared simple enough, but the quiet way he said it was like a threat. His ice blue eyes flashed. “Do you not know to whom this place belongs?”

Zane. Zane was the artist. He was the most dangerous-looking of the five. He had dark, messy hair and tattoos that covered his thick arms like snakes. He didn't care about suits or science. He cared about feelings, colors, and the raw beauty of the body. His studio was at the very end of the hall, and it was the only room that was always locked. That evening, the door was open.

Who else would be watching a normal-looking boring girl if not a gingerhead? I turned around. Standing in the foyer just outside the window was Zane. He was wearing the same dark cloak he’d had on the night before at the club. The heavy breeze made his cloak flow around him, giving him this mysterious aura. I made a mental note to draw this image of him someday. My eyes traveled down to his arms which were full of black lines like tattoos. I could see the bone handle of a knife protruding from his side. He was looking right at me, the side of his narrow mouth quirked in amusement. He was mocking me. That’s the only reason I could think of. How long has he been standing there?

Zane exclaimed as both our arrows flew into the deer simultaneously, instantly striking it down. “Is it dead?” I asked, but thought against it as the deer struggled where it was lying. “Hope not,” I heard Zane mutter, walking towards it. He pulled out his hunting dagger from the weapon belt around his waist, grabbed the deer's skin, and began to skin it. “What the hell, man?” I muttered, watching with wide eyes as the deer still struggled. Yet Zane didn't stop what he was doing, and the worst part was that he seemed to be enjoying it!