Angry Pomeranian Novels & Stories

Stormy started, a wolfish grin on his muzzle. He did have a point; Angeline was beautiful, and smelt so good. Except she wasn’t the same she-wolf I met a few days ago, and I could feel something changed in her. She looked tense, rugged, and extremely angry. The light of her pretty blue eyes was replaced by both emptiness and an unfamiliar fire. “Stop it, Stormy! She already thinks I am a perv!” I demanded. “I will try. I am thinking about your granny in a bikini, it always helps me to keep Stormy Junior down!” he replied. The crazy mutt even named my p.enis after himself!

The silence stretched so long it became its own living thing. I glanced sideways at him and his jaw was clenched so tightly I thought it might crack. “What is wrong with you?” No answer. By the time we reached his house, my irritation had reached boiling point, the gates opened to reveal a stunning estate tucked behind walls and iron fencing. As soon as we stepped inside, a tiny white Pomeranian came racing across the marble floor and she barked once and jumped at my legs. “Oh my God,” I gasped, scooping her up. “You little angel.”

’ For the first time since today, anger fills me instead of sadness as I think about all this, and I find myself talking out loud without even meaning to. “Well, asshole, you should have thought of that before you and your girlfriend decided to pile the jobs of five people, along with other numerous unnecessary tasks, on me for reasons best known to you both,” I declare furiously, surprising both myself and a middle-aged woman who happens to pass beside me right at that moment. She gives me an odd look and goes on her way, while I flush in embarrassment, wipe my eyes, and hurry towards the restaurant. Four or five minutes later, I’m seated at an empty table, waiting for the waiter to take my

Calm and slightly angry. Truly, just slightly angry.

"Ready to lose the existence of your pack?" Dominic's wolf, Eros, snarled, blaring at the comment. "Oh, angry? I'm sorry, I don't speak wolf." He was purposely trying to get on their nerves, Eros knew. Leo, Christian's wolf, stood next to his alpha, burning with fury and not being able to accept the disrespect. "Do it."

" Answer me first! Do you have even an ounce of shame in you!" " When you aren't ashamed doing it, why should I feel ashamed seeing it?" His anger flares but I wasn't scared. Slamming his hands beside me. Blocking me. He roars. " Look who is talking? " Moving his fingers down to caress my neck. He speaks in disgust. " The one who has the mark of that bastard death wolf on her?" " The one who has fuc"ed with our enemy." And that was it. My wolf gets on surface. Growling at him. Turning tables. To grab his neck and pin him on the cupboard behind.

In fact, his face is even more serious too. "Their time was up. I did what I had to do. Everything should go according to schedule." He gazed at her with apologetic eyes. Ava slams both hands on the table as she stands up. Going over the other side to yank his white shirt. She was breathing heavily out of rage. Her dark brown eyes lit up with bloodlust. Hands and lips trembling as she held him. Swallowing hard before she could compose herself to say a word.

BEN POV I slam the door to my office before I flip my solid wood desk with one arm. My computer monitor shatters, and I roar out my frustration into the tiny space. Ace wants to run and kill something, but I push him down. I will let my wolf out later tonight. Right now, I need to work through my own anger.

A frustrated, devouring anger. "And what's the meaning of that?" Ariana questioned, furiously, striking against the table. I roared, blazing into her eyes like the hot sunrays on the skin. I felt my wolf tearing and dying to be out. Ariana cocked her head, with her fangs bulging out. She whimpered. I know wolves don't whimper except for when they're in a form of distress or tension, pleading for mercy. And I was shocked to see one whimpering before me.

She could be anywhere by now! I angrily removed my leather jacket and slapped it on the back of my bike. My hands flew in my hair, and I tugged at the roots, muffling a yell that threatened to escape my mouth. I wasn’t an angry person… usually. It was something I had prided myself on. Not a lot of werewolves could say the same. It was in our nature to be impulsive, manipulative and possessive. But whenever it came to Max, the careful and calm demeanour I had tried so hard to work on broke and shattered, revealing this ugly and angry side of myself I didn’t know I had.