A Warrior's Heart Book Novels & Stories

I also won't beg. I pick up one of the worn volumes and open it. In the beginning, there were two. In the beginning, one male, one female. In the beginning, no war, no famine. In the beginning, love. Within a short time, I'm enthralled. It's like reading a science fiction novel even though I know these events happened. This book is about their history. I stop myself. My history. It's told by a female Shadow Warrior named Nalista.

They had fearless warriors and skilled wolves that were always ready to stake their lives for the pack and one of them was the beautiful young grey wolf with dark blue eyes named Althea. Althea was known throughout the kingdom as one of the fiercest werewolf warriors. She was fearless in battle, and her fighting skills were unmatched by any other warrior. She also had an unwavering loyalty to her pack. She had fought in many battles and had never once faltered in her duty to protect her pack and her Alpha. She was also known for her beauty, with her long, flowing hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight. What made Althea truly special was her unwavering bravery in the

I command, my voice cutting clean through the chaos. My warriors obey instantly. They form a protective arc around me, blades flashing, teeth bared. A wolf lunges from the right—one of Keith’s chiefs—and is intercepted before he can reach me. My warrior tears out his throat with efficient brutality. The metallic scent of blood thickens the air. And beneath it— There. A pulse. Deep. Ancient. Calling to me. The Heart. My lycan stirs, her presence coiling through my mind like silver mist. Closer, she whispers, low and hungry. It beats for us.

They just fell, black smoke spilling from their wounds instead of blood. I’d fought before, bled before—but this was different. These weren’t battles for survival anymore. This was war. The Heart’s energy pulsed in my veins, begging to be unleashed. I let it rise, just enough to create a shield around us. The barrier shimmered gold, humming softly. Each time a blade struck, the light flared brighter. Sylra barked orders from the steps, her warriors joining the fray, but for every assassin cut down, two more appeared. They poured from the shadows like a tide of death.

As we neared it, the words from her premonition came to me. “What you hold close to the heart will not survive. For war is a field of no rules and morality, something you know of. But the last cards are in place as you have not changed the course of your path. In war, there are no rules but one unspoken yet agreed upon. Attack the heart. And what does an immortal man hold close to his heart that he couldn’t hold before? His mate, Vivian.”

"You have the heart of a warrior, but also the heart of a man. You must not war against either of them, for they both make up who you are. You must embrace both, and only then will you be able to do that which you fear the most." He stared at her, for a heartbeat, then two and turned around and headed for the door. He thought if he stayed in the room much longer than he had, he'd suffocate from all the emotions sizzling in the room, bubbling up inside him. Perhaps the seer was right after all, indeed he was a warrior, and he found himself warring and fighting against all within and around him. He heard Hannah get up from the chair as he opened the door and walked out of it into the cool even

It was going to be a long year once the trials started. The shift changed, and so the Warriors heading home walked back with me. It was peaceful, but I would never let anyone know that. There was no time for peace, not while there were wars raging and a vile Vampire to hunt down. There was no room for weaknesses in my Warriors. I knew they had them, but they did not let them show; Made them strong.

It was old, the pages having yellowed in time, but when he held the bound pages he felt as if his father was there beside him again. It was his voice that Jaxsen tried to simulate in his head as his eyes roamed the pages. He found himself clutching the book to his chest, but to no avail. Cora Weaverly snatched the book, an old copy of Utopia; a fifteenth century novel of political philosophy, from his small and defenseless hands. He tried to get it back but she slapped him down. He held the tears back, ignoring the stinging in his cheek. He did not want to give her the satisfaction of physical manifestations of pain. He narrowed his eyes trying to be defiant. Then in a matter of a nano-secon

It also talks about the legend and how they're to descend on earth and surprisingly, I land in the first warrior's name: Hera. Just like in my dream, the beautiful lady called me Hera and in this book, she is described as a graceful warrior, one whose weakness becomes her strength. Out of the four warriors, she has the best healing magic and she's a strong barrier creator. Not to mention that she's a strong warrior. The book describes her as calm, but horrendous when angry. Gosh, did they just describe me? I flip over to the other warriors. Aurora is the strongest warrior in terms of combat. She has the best barrier skills as well as using her aura as an offensive power.

Just real. “You were alive,” he said, like that covered everything. “There are plenty of people alive. You didn’t drag them home.” He almost smiled—just a tiny lift, the kind that changes the air. “None of them had what you’ve got in your chest.” She went still. “You can see it?” “I feel it. What is it?” She looked at her hands, neat and bandaged, cared for by someone a little too practiced. “I don’t know. Wen Lihua. I was—am?—the Wen Clan’s failed daughter. Couldn’t cultivate. Three days ago, I survived a fire. Now something in me just—” she set her hand over her heart, “burns.”