Armor Wing Novels & Stories

If it weren't for my seatbelt, I would have been thrown out of the vehicle. My heart thrashed in my chest in a wild rhythm that echoed in my ears. I clutched the steering wheel tightly in my iron grasp until my fist blanched white and I felt my eyes flash from their usual ocean blue to deadly obsidian. A warning growl vibrated the earth beneath the paws of the four wolves, showing them I wasn't an ordinary wolf. I was an alpha and they should think twice before fucking with me.

They were the mated couples, I was getting used to the feeling of bringing my mate here as I've never participated in the activities going on around here. It has always worked for me! Hola and I were staying in the alpha's wing, which is all gold and red colour themed which becomes apparent once we walk into the main area of the wing. All dark wood, black walls with wine color accents, couches, and an all-black kitchen inclusive of a black walk-in closet. But for now, I let her go to the crimson wing with her friends, her friends were going to be staying there and her temporary room was on that same floor.

Lights flashed around me as the shiny metal greaves plated themselves up my legs, ending in a pointy piece right above my knees at the same time as the corset clicked together on my back, causing oxygen to leave me briefly as it tightened. The soft white fur that created my shoulder piece and cape grew out of my back pieces, locking around my spread wings. Empowered. That is how I felt like I came home to where I belonged and knew exactly what to do, when, and where. The last piece was my headpiece. The pointy and heavy metal draped down over my nose, and the sharp wings rose up from the crown-like piece as it melted together in the back of my head. With a smile, I remember my first decades

- Colby says, leaving and closing the door. Angel sighs. He was unwilling to get up and get dressed. Perhaps a clash of cultures was what would decide his destiny. He wears white jeans with several rips, a belt from which several chains come out, a white and extra tight T with a design of two boys in a very romantic position, and he wears his white sneakers and holds his hair in a disheveled bun and leaves several loose ends that fall to the side of his face. He put on his ring and chose a bracelet made of stones in the color of the rainbow. In his ears, he puts three diamonds, one in the right ear and two in the left. He puts on blue navy eyeliner, which makes his beautiful eyes look even p

I sighed but my mother’s face told me, no matter what I said, I was not going to win, so I decided to grab the bracelet, a shawl from the hook by the door, and walked out. **** Most werewolves—women werewolves—who in Astoria wore gowns, would find it a deterrent to climb up piles but I have no shame. We have acres of land to ourselves. All ladies. So I hiked my skirt up to my thigh and began my climb up.

Arthur, the Eighth Brother. He looked like a man who had spent his life building bridges of steel while his brothers built bridges of starlight. He carried a cane topped with a simple silver wolf’s head, and behind him stood a legion of soldiers in "Null-Armor"—suits designed to absorb kinetic energy and ground it into the earth.

Ruby sends up a howl, alerting our patrols on the border and our wolves in no man’s land that we’re heading towards them. Beside me and behind me, I can hear the sounds of wolves running at a gallop and I know that Raul, Bree and Dax have all shifted as well. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bree and Raul switch places, so Bree is now beside me, with Dax on the other side and Raul is now behind me. Bree and Dax are flanking me, protecting their Alpha and Raul knew to make that swap with Bree without even being asked.

Her ladies-in-waiting nearly drop their combs. But I know that scent before I even see him. Arkan enters. He walks into the room like he owns the oxygen. His torso is wrapped in a white linen shirt with Western crest sewn into the left breastplate., sleeves rolled. He isn't wearing armour, no crown, no showiness. Just a man whose presence IS the crown. Roan stands a step half behind him, posture rigid. Anger carefully wrapped in crisp boots, thick black belt, and a gloved hand.

You two ride at the fore. Raven read the words. Nodded once—small, steady. She felt the cold place inside her rise like a tide, eager, ready. Victoria’s hand found hers under the table; fingers laced tight. They suited up in the armory—Valrosian battle armor fitted perfectly now: blackened steel plates over dark leather, obsidian scale at shoulders and chest, crimson cloaks edged with protective runes. Raven’s midnight-blue dress stayed folded in their room; today was for war, not silk.

Gleaming with a faint, icy light amid the falling snow. Behind her stood three thousand Alpha warriors. The seven territorial flags rolled slowly in the wind. Occasionally a muffled crack of fabric snapping against itself broke the silence. Freya stood at the very front of the Ice Wolf Clan formation. Her ice-blue vertical pupils pierced through the falling snow. Watching her. Her battle armor was forged from ten-thousand-year ice. The fine snow did not melt when it landed on her pauldrons. It melted *into* them. Making the ice layer thicker. Brighter.