A Bastian Novels & Stories

​After what felt like an eternity standing in front of her parents' house, I kicked my bike into gear and rode back to the clubhouse. Riding through the wind, I couldn’t help but think about what it meant to actually have a family. I know what I am. I can be brutal viciously so.In the underworld, I have been called a lot of things. The Bull. The Devil. Iron Fist. But when it comes to family, I have a soft spot. I’m a child at heart for the people I love. But make no mistake: you do not mess with me, my brothers, or their old ladies.

"Michael!" "What's bullshit?" Timmy asked, tilting his dark head of hair as curiosity clouded his blue eyes. He had my dad's hair, brown, commonly mistaken for black when it wasn't looked at closely. Dad stiffened. "Uh...it's..." He looked at mom, but she crossed her arms and shook her head. "You got yourself into it, Mike. You can get out of it." Timmy looked between them. "What is it?" Dad cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Well, Timmy. It is a very mean thing to say about bulls. It hurts their feelings. So best we not say it, yeah?"

“Ronan sees a helpless human. So show him a warrior. I can teach you.” I stared at him, my mind reeling. The offer was so unexpected but oddly interesting. This man or wolf was so starkly different from anyone I'd encountered here. It wasn’t Finn’s flirtatious kindness or Ronan’s brutal rejection. It was a challenge. A lifeline made of grit, not sympathy. “Who are you?” I finally managed to ask. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Bastien. I train the pack’s warriors.” A trainer. A warrior. He was offering me the one thing Ronan claimed I could never have. The means to fight back.

Ehlii there. "My son-in-law," laughed Ehlii proudly. "Seedlings nurtured by Julian never fail," Armen says as Bastian begins his struggle with a tall, bulky man with a shaved head. Despite their vastly different body comparisons, Bastian had no trouble and fought aggressively from every direction against the man. In this place, Bastian was known as the Jaguar, often aloof but very savage. He looks good and generous on the outside, but he's a real demon," Ehlii boasted of his future son-in-law.

he tried to persuade. "Two other members have human mates. A few others have mates from other species but the majority have werewolf mates and they all welcomed Ren with open arms. He is much respected here and also with the demons. You are aware he is Bastian's step-son correct? He's trained with them and fought them. He isn't a weak link hence why he didn't combust when you kicked him into the wall" I explained, my eyes darkened with anger and my dad knew he was reaching a boundary that he should not cross with me but still he continued.

The bride is mine and Acasia has no right to her. I whip through the sky-my wings beating to the pulse of my anger. I surge through the realm into Bastian's territory and begin yelling his name. "Bastian, I will kill your mate for this. Return my bride." He doesn't answer, which doesn't surprise me. The love-sick coward. Why is he so special that his mate turns into a dragon? Why not Maleah, whom I loved with my entire being?

Then he would face the embodiment of terror. With supernatural speed, I darted across the street and dove into the alley between the two buildings. Bastard didn’t know he was dealing with an enforcer from the Volkovs, the notorious werewolf mafia, and my adopted family. Few outside of our pack knew we were actual werewolves and we liked it that way. My claws extended and I raked them down the side of the dumpster. I heard his heart rate speed up, and I smiled. “You stole from the wrong person,” I said, adding a growl at the end.

Bastian was on his feet before the echo died, his body suddenly all coiled muscle and lethal stillness. Another howl answered the first. Closer. Then a third. “Rogues,” Bastian said. “A pack of them. They’ve been trying to push into my territory for months.” I tried to sit up, and my arms gave out. The heat had left me useless, a puddle of fever and need. “How many?” “Doesn’t matter.” Bastian pulled the knife from his belt. The blade caught the firelight. “They smell you. Your heat. They’ll be here before dawn.”

She’d nearly forgotten about it, the so-called Prince Bastard. “That one. Why didn’t you have me try to wake it?” Bastien turned to her with curious, raised eyebrows before transferring his attention to the thing in question. When he saw what it was she spoke of, he snorted and shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. I already told you it’s a lost cause. Besides, even if it makes it out of its shell somehow, it’ll be a freak of nature. Better off dead, girl. Leave it be.”