Adrien Agreste Cat Noir Novels & Stories

I will never become one of these lovesick puppies like those around me… “Yes. And this is Acelin, future leader of the Ventrel coven, and I’m sure you’ve guessed it, Alpha Adrian Da’More of the Blue Stone.” Acelin is next to shake his hand. Of course he is always so well-behaved. My eyes go to Adrian to see how their interaction will be knowing he is the more difficult one. I will not tolerate him being disrespectful to the wolf.

AUTHOR POV “She’s mine,” Adrian growled angrily while stepping toward Creigh his eyes red and oozing flames of rage, his expression was grim, and deadly that even Camille tense instinctively beside the couch. Creigh however didn’t move or flinch, he eyes hardened, he didn’t even look remotely threatened. Instead he remained seated comfortably while staring at Adrian like he was observing a wild animal slowly losing control of itself. Then finally, he lifted the corner of his mouth slightly.

Either way, I am glad he’s here. “It says here that the wolves that we acquire are classified according to their strengths. The black wolf… one of the rare kinds and one of the strongest as well. The only werewolves who acquire black wolves are those who have direct Lycan blood.” Alden nods, listening intently. “Come to think of it, you have a black wolf, right?” I ask while flipping through the pages. Alden smiles. “Yes. My wolf’s name is Noir. He can be a little shit sometimes.” He pauses for a bit and briefly closes his eyes as if he’s talking to his wolf. “But he’s very reliable.”

“Stay behind me. He’s a snake. Don’t let him get under your skin.” He crossed the room in three strides and yanked the door open, his body filling the frame like a wall. Adrian Blackwood stood there, leaning casually against the doorjamb as if he owned the hallway. He was tall—almost as tall as Jason—but leaner, with sharp, aristocratic features, dark hair slicked back, and eyes the color of cold steel that glittered with cruel amusement. His tailored suit screamed money and power, the kind that came from old family connections rather than earned merit. A faint, spicy alpha scent rolled off him—clove and smoke, aggressive in a way that made my omega instincts prickle with unease.

"I am fine. Look at me." The Lycan tilts his head. His eyes are solid black, devoid of any white or pupils, staring down at my face for three long seconds. He lets out a short, hot huff of air that smells of copper and wild pine. Then, the black fur vanishes. The massive bulk shrinks down in a split second, and Adriel collapses forward, his bare shoulder slamming hard into the turf right next to my boots. I stare down at him, my brow furrowing. "He never faints. Gage, why did he faint?"

Near the far edge of the rock shelf, half in shadow, a huge black wolf paced in a brutal, broken line. Adrian . Even if the bond hadn’t screamed it, Lisa would have known. He was bigger than she expected — shoulders broad, coat dark as wet midnight, muscles moving under fur with a restless violence that made the whole body look pulled too tight. One foreleg favored the ground. Blood marked the black fur there and along one flank. His sides heaved. His eyes— His eyes found them at once. Gold. Wild. And far too aware. Adrian froze. For one suspended second, no one moved.

Adrian stormed into the dimly lit chamber, his fists clenched at his sides. The ancient walls of his grandmother’s secluded hideout were lined with bookshelves, the air thick with the scent of burning incense and something older—something mystical. Catherine Blackwood sat in her usual chair, her piercing silver eyes meeting his with an unsettling calmness. She had been waiting for him. “Grandmother,” Adrian said through gritted teeth, the frustration and exhaustion evident in his voice. “The key didn’t work.”

"Euh, I don't particularly like parties like this." Black and his wolf were wholly unnerved by her answer. _But Mate just said..._ "Cette soirée est de pire en pire ! (#This party is getting worse and worse!"), Interrupted Augustine as he dramatically sat down across from them. Bianca laughed softly without changing her position. "Ne m'en parle pas! (#Don't tell me about it!)." _ Shit! They're talking escargot! Do something!_

He took off his hood, so I can clearly see his face now. He's really undeniably handsome, with a fair, pale complexion. His phoenix eyes were actually reddish when he took off his hood, and they were exposed to enough light. The men in black dresses immediately kneeled down in front of him, which made me even more curious. "Isn't that the man who fought against the red-lion beast too?" I asked Feirro. "I guess!" was his cold response while glaring at them. "Calm down." I know that werewolves and vampires haven't gotten along since ever.

A savage growl echoed, followed by a horrible sound of flesh being torn. Adrian, still in crow form, tilted his head on the branch, watching everything coldly. “Pathetic,” he cawed, bored. The butler tried to crawl away, his hands shaking and his face dirty with earth and blood. His eyes met those of the panther, which now walked slowly toward him, its muzzle dripping with the blood of the wolf it had just killed. “Please…” Blackwell begged. “I just wanted to live… I just wanted to be like you…”