Ashfur And Scourge Novels & Stories

They remind me of two fighting bulls with locked horns, butting each other. They remain this way, heads bent, eyes unwaveringly locked on each other, until one of them grunts and pulls back. I can't for the life of me know which is the real Ash. They're both wearing black jean pants - I hadn't realized this before - until, the one that moved back throws his head back and laughs maniacally.

We look forward to the day she can run with us. "Soon." The witch agreed with a soft smile. Some of the shadows began to dance like excited pups, their excited yips filling the air as a giant blonde man stepped out of the darkening tree-line followed by a smaller version of himself. Despite the winter months being on them, both males were golden like the husks of wheat and barley. Their white blonde hair matched that of the little girl babbling in her mother's arms. Ulf was much taller than his son and bulkier with muscles crowding his limbs and torso. His chiseled facial features could easily make the gods jealous and his blue eyes were topaz blue and as hard as ice as they surveyed the wor

"That you will have lots of kids and that you and Hunt will be happy again and for a long time." "Really?" I could feel my own eyes heat up with tears and Faye nodded so I hugged her again. ***** HUNT I stood over his body. When I found him, it was as if a beast in me had been unleashed. Kyler and Aurelia didn't anticipate what I was going to do the moment I plunged my claws deep into Damien's chest and ripped out his beating heart. I felt the blood spray across my face, but I didn't care. I simply watched as he fell to the ground, turning into his human form, before turning and glancing at the girl he was with. Kyler had his arm around her neck.

The man shakes his head, keeping his hands in his pockets like my words meant little to nothing to him. “It doesn't matter what it wants— “I have a name. Xander, given by Elysia and nothing will change it” Xander hiss, fuming with frustration. That man's eyes darken, a gaze so menacing as he sneers at the boy. “You claimed him!” I step back, at the sudden fury in his eyes.The calm demeanor gone with a flash. Drax moves in front of me, standing protectively like a shield. “A gifted wolf— but scarred for life” That man mutters, scanning Drax from head to toe like he knows him.

I would find a safe distance. Just as I was about to start running again, there was a thud. And pain. I couldn't quite understand what had happened. I rolled through the remains of the snow, the fallen tree leaves and the damp earth. There was a strong pressure on my body, throwing me sideways, and my vision spun, blurred. Only then did I understand. I was lying on the ground and the enemy alpha was standing over me. Viktor Frostbite. For generations, the Ashenfur and Frostbite clans have coexisted in a fragile peace. We maintained an alliance based on mutual agreements of non-aggression and trade in resources until Gregor led us into a territorial invasion.

Her hair spread wildly because of the evening breeze, giving her a sultry look. "You might want to keep some distance from her," I rumbled, fixing my eyes on Aurora who didn't look unfazed with my appearance. Then I realized that she was trying to spite me. "And why should I do that?" The man who was talking with her replied rudely, though his eyes flickered with fear when he sized me up. "Because I'm her bodyguard and her boyfriend won't want to meet you here with her while you have a monster rising between your legs." I said and Aurora glared daggers at me.

"Ignatius, swipe." The light grey wolf lashed out. His claws caught Ashur’s shoulder, carving three red lines through the fur. Ashur let out a sharp, pained yelp. Blood began to drip onto the grass. "And then the kill. The lock. Ashur, throat." Ashur lunged. His jaws opened wide, strings of spit flying. He snapped his teeth an inch from Ignatius’ jugular before pulling back and slamming his weight into the other wolf’s side. They went back to the dirt, snarling and snapping.

It was a crusade. "They call themselves the Ashen Paw," the scout continued, his gaze fixed on the floor, as if he could not bear to meet the King's eyes. "They are led by two figures. A witch, they call her the Weaver, a woman who walks with the fog and speaks to the ravens. And her champion. A wolf."

One still twitching, eyes wide in horror as he choked on blood. And standing over them… “Fuck,” I whispered. Rogues. Not one. Not two. Seven. Massive. Wild-eyed. Feral wolves with patches of missing fur and twisted limbs like they’d been broken and healed wrong. Their eyes glowed silver, frothing at the mouths, muscles coiled too tightly under mangled skin. One of them raised his head. And grinned. “Asher…!” I turned just as he skidded to a halt beside me, sword already drawn.

Blood stained the clearing, a crimson proof of the fight for survival. Draven, a whirlwind of silver fur and sharp teeth, moved like a predator, each strike a testament to his honed skills, each growl a chilling reminder of his might. He cut through the enemy ranks, a beacon of hope for the Howling Wind pack, a storm of fury against the darkness. Asher, a loyal wolf, moved with the grace of a panther, his eyes never leaving his target. He fought with the precision of an expert, his claws a blur of deadly accuracy.