Alpha Wolf T Shirt Novels & Stories

Granny bit my cloak before she pinned me down with her paw, eyes locking on the wolves in front of us, on guard. [She's alright now, come back, Kirsch.] Taran said in the mind link as he walked toward the seven wolves that were still able to move. They circled Taran, waiting for the right moment to attack. "Who are you?!" The scary Alpha growled at Taran furiously. If he was only pissed by me before, he was definitely steaming off anger now. He just lost his definite victory when he was so close. I was surprised to see his shirt ripped open with a huge claw mark on his chest. Though he threw Rudy into the wall, he was also injured by Kirsch?!

no doubt. A lazy smile was dancing over his lips, matching mine when I opened my eyes. Swiftly he spun, slightly up in the air and he landed in a beautiful black wolf, pure black, shining, his eyes are gorgeous in wolf-form, too. I have seen only Alphas with the same eye colours. Strange! Perhaps they hold more power and rule their community. I don't know.

"What's that?" "What's what? Oh, the wolf?"

“Yeah. As one of the wolves was completely black. Kind of like Vox. Another wolf was reddish brown which reminded me of Ash and the third one was gray like Volt. The only wolf I couldn’t pinpoint among the four was the one that was black and had white paws.” At the mention of black fur and white paws do I move to tense again. For there was only one wolf like that and he was the Alpha of another pack. The Shadowridge Pack. Aaron. Aaron Duncan. But why would Tori be dreaming of Aaron. Was Aaron one of the wolves we were fighting or was he one of the wolves helping us? My mind now quick to think of Jake and how Jake was going to handle the news.

I countered, voice turning dark, “considering a woman beat you in a competition, I imagine your pride is in shambles. Now, if you’ll excuse me — I have better things to do.” His eyes flashed—wounded pride and simmering rage. He was halfway into his wolf, shoulders trembling as he fought for control. He growled, voice dropping deeper. “Don’t think owning this place means I can’t take it down with a snap of my fingers.” “Like you’re already trying to?” I shot back. “Go on…What else can you do, hmm?” The shift of an angry Alpha was impossible to ignore—heavy, crackling, oppressive. It pressed against my lungs, squeezing the air out.

The 25-year-old werewolf, who by rights should have assumed the mantle of alpha, had been cruelly robbed of his destiny by a grievous injury sustained in a brutal pack battle. Ryker, a stalwart friend and loyal pack member, proudly bore a banner emblazoned with the inscription "Hail the Future Alpha!" in bold, golden lettering. The banner was draped majestically above the fireplace, where it fluttered proudly in the flickering candlelight.

As I scanned the audience, my gaze locked onto Damien, igniting a surge of anger and irritation within me. Of course, the bastard chose the front seat. The meeting started. Then it was time to raise questions. A man who I acknowledged as the owner of an art collections platform raised his hands from the back seat. “You may speak,” I permitted him. “The Sacred Wolf is a symbol of peace for the werewolves. Why dispute over it when we have a greater evil ahead of us?” “She is valuable to any pack and can be used for the pack’s advantage. As long as she is rebirthed to their sanctuary, she will belong to that pack permanently,” I answered as I spoke into the microphone placed in front of me.

My wolf ! Noooooo !