Alastor Moody Book Novels & Stories

Office Gray says, bowing slightly alongside his partner before they both walk back to their car. I stare once again at the once upon a time vibrant environment that is now clouded with smoke and darkness. A tired sigh escapes my lips when I realise that this may actually just be the beginning. I know it's weird but I just have this feeling that the worst is yet to come and the truth is, the thought of it alone scared me like nothing else.

With one gentle prod, the whole thing imploded in my face. It's not that I don't love Alastor; believe me, I love him more than anything else in the world. He was the air I needed to breathe to keep me alive. His outward appearance was cold and stoic, but on the inside, he was broken and vulnerable. The history of Black Moon was etched all across him, hiding in plain sight in the scars that littered his body.

The light from the stone dimmed and it fell to the floor shattering into pieces. Dorothy dropped Allyson gently to the ground and walked hesitantly to open the book. "Sister." She called out to one of the cloaked women and she stepped forward towards the open book. The witch started to hum the words and as her humming became louder, Allyson's body began to spasm. The other witches joined her in the humming and Allyson was screaming. The entire castle shook beneath our feet as the humming increased, only overshadowed by Allyson's screams, as fire enveloped her body. I had to remind myself that Allyson's screams were worth it and Dorothy lying on the ground beside her as she experienced the sa

Adrian scoffs and I silently commend Atlas for ruffling his feathers. “Anyways, I’m Atlas, alpha of the Black Mist. You must be Araya.” He extends his hand to her, and she takes it smiling. I watch their interaction and realize I’m feeling a bit of jealousy. Why am I so possessive of this wolf? It is beyond me. I will never become one of these lovesick puppies like those around me…

"Upon their visage, the countenance of the celestial orb, completed by the sacred sigil upon the union with their fated's mark." Thinking about the prophecy makes my skin crawl. Any time I think about ashes, I see my home, burnt to the ground. I hear howls of pain, remembering that they came from me as I held my baby brother's burnt body. Who needs screaming birds when I have already seen the hell that The Darkness hides.

The name hit me like a sudden chill. My breath hitched before I could stop it, and suddenly the room faded around the edges as a memory surged forward unbidden. The forest. The smell of damp earth and blood. The way the shadows had seemed to move on their own. The low growl that had raised the hairs on my arms, the feeling of being watched and being chased. The Alastor. I have to know who he is. My fingers curled slightly into my lap as I forced myself to remain composed. “That devious alpha!” Granny exclaimed. “I’m not surprised. So what happens now?”

The word burned in his mind like a brand. He stalked past the familiar sections—Werewolf Histories, Lunar Cycles, Pack Law—until he reached the dimly lit alcove marked "Supernatural Relations." His claws pricked his palms as he yanked out the first relevant tome: The Bewitched & The Beastly: Supernatural Attractions. The wooden chair protested as he threw himself into it, the lamplight casting jagged shadows across the pages. Dust motes swirled around him as he flipped to the chapter on witches.

Nathaniel muttered, though without real resentment. Rick set down the letter and reached for the red volume, its leather binding warm to the touch. "Two weeks until the full moon. Three weeks until we potentially move in together. And somewhere in between, a mysterious 'heat cycle' that has both of you looking like you're walking on eggshells." He opened the book to its first page. "I should probably start reading." "Not yet," Casie said, checking her watch. "We need to head to the precinct soon. Mendoza's waiting."

I can't seem to think past the ache in-between my legs, talk less of forming coherent sentences. Images of him pinning me to this very wall, tearing my clothes off and pounding into me in the most feral way possible fill my head till they're all I can think about. But the asshole steps away, a smirk on his face. One that I'm sure will haunt my sleep tonight. “So, Little Trouble,” he begins. " I'll have you understand the full story behind the curse that's on our bond." He fishes a huge dusty book from the cupboard and places it on the table.

Before breakfast meant the tension had been sitting in the house overnight, building in the dark, and what he was hearing now was not the beginning of it but the point at which it had outgrown the space available to it. He stood in the doorway of the great room with his coffee and listened. Blackwood Manor in the early morning had a particular quality of light, grey and lateral, coming through the tall eastern windows at an angle that caught the dust in the air and made the room look both larger and emptier than it was. In that light, the two wolves currently standing in the center of it looked younger than they were. Which was the problem. Which had always been, in Marcus's assessment, the