Best Predator Books Novels & Stories

**Thank you so much for reading The Gladiator Wolf King. I truly hope you enjoyed the book. I have no set release dates but the next two books I will be working on are: Hunji: A Broken wolf & the last witch of Andora, and also Tawny's story: The Crimson Grimalkin. I hope you will follow me for the latest news and upcoming work. Please do not forget to leave me a review and thank you all for reading my stories I hope I can continue to entertain you with many more books!

The movement is soft, almost imperceptible, but it feels distinctly like a fleeting shadow. Malakai’s scouts or creatures move precisely like that. Slow. Intentional, and hungry for conflict. I slide silently behind a wide, jagged boulder, my fingers already tingling violently with the rising, summoned magic. If it’s one of his vile creatures, I should at least try to gather some tactical information before instantly killing it— Nope. Definitely, absolutely not one of his creatures. Two distinct figures: one elf warrior, one panther shifter. Doing things that under no circumstances, should be done on the precarious edge of a cliff.

In Darwin's battle, he faced off against strange feral lycans, wolves, and monsters that were labeled abominations by the general public and were imported from near and far regions: three-headed lions, twin giant bears, and even magical feral trolls, among other things. Darwin was the best at what he did because he was the most knowledgeable about beasts of prey. After all, he was a predator in his own right. And he was well-versed in how to dispatch them.

I asked him. "I will never bow to a witch. I will take pleasure in eating your heart since you chose to ruin my meal!" He spat back at me with an evil smirk. Yes, I could have easily done a killing blow, but I find a slight enjoyment in making the evil beings suffer a little. Plus, I get paid more if I deliver them alive. Mucelini here broke the law. Ghouls have centers where they can obtain flesh to survive. When several ghoul attacks started in the area and the Paranormal Enforcement Agents (PEA) couldn't find the culprit they called me. Freya Blackwood, paranormal bounty hunter. I take on hunting ghouls, vampires, werewolves, and other creatures of the night. I am the best of the best and

But prey doesn’t need to point out predators. Predators reveal themselves when they bleed. And I was about to make them bleed.

In a world full of craving wolves, she couldn't roam around like an innocent rabbit in the den's of her predator because she knows it too well, that a certain big bad wolf is preying on her. Waiting to devour every inch of her body. But instead of devouring her in a torturous way, her predator devours her in a more pleasurable and sensual manner. And she's the prey that is a willing victim. She's a prey bewitching her predator with her innocence, making her predator, the big bad wolf, breaking the rules.

It is not just me being pulled. It is us. And the predator— The predator reacts. Not with confusion. Not with hesitation. With interest. Because now— There is more than one pattern to learn. And that changes everything.

This time, faster than the first time. Prey. The predators in him stretched satisfyingly as he recognized prey. She holds his diamond ring, he is sure of it. Why won't she want to give it back? Doesn't matter. As far as it's in her possession, he will get it from her. If she wants to be chased, he will do so too. The thrill of the chase is exhilarating to a predator. His mate is about to find out what it feels like to be prey to a dangerous alpha predator.

His tattoos spread from the left side of his neck down his entire arm. “Thank you,” Elyssa replied, smiling. “They say you’re with the resistance?” “They call us that because we refuse to accept the dark,” he continued. “I am Aries, the alpha of the Palecrest pack, and we believe the wolves are to serve the gods who blessed us, not the dark.”

The underworld laws remained absolute: no matter how viciously a fool was played by a superior predator, their blind eyes would still gullibly view their handler as a benevolent savior. After dropping a few more deceptive, calming phrases into his ear, my hand cuts the connection to dead static. Let out a sharp scoff, my fingers beat a predatory rhythm against the steering wheel as a barrage of dark tactical thoughts race through my brain. Smiling wickedly into the shadows, I mutter, "To fully reward your total submission to my voice, little wolf, my blades promise to deliver an absolute masterpiece of destruction." CHIKA WHITMORE