Black Cat Marvel Novels & Stories

A familiar scent drifts and my werewolf stills for a moment. Mate As if summoned by her call, a massive black werewolf, darker than the night sky itself, appears from nowhere, and slams into the Rogue Alpha without hesitation.

“Fight it. You can. But the moment my fingers touched his arm, his body arched backward, every muscle locking. A scream ripped from his throat half-human, half-something else and suddenly, light exploded outward from him, flinging me several feet back. I hit the ground hard. When I looked up He was gone. Where he had stood, now knelt something new. His body was taller.Covered in jet-black fur streaked with silver veins. His eyes glowed And on his chest? The mark still blazed but it had split down the center, a crack like lightning. He rose slowly, breathing ragged. The Black Fang wolves hesitated. For the first time they looked uncertain. “Is that... him?” I whispered.

Marcel did not complain, as I let my fangs elongate and bit into his wrist. "I, Marcel Blackthorn, take you..." he began the part that I had obviously forgotten. "...Solana Ewan, the Alpha of the Blood moon pack, my mate, as my Alpha. May the goddess bless this bond." I was so taken with the sensation of his hand in my mouth, as I swirled my tongue over his skin, that I didn't even realize that I was sucking his blood. And he didn't stop me. From the small sigh of pleasure he let out, I knew that he was enjoying it.

I've already died once, nothing to lose or gain. An evil laughter erupted from his throat, his expression looked like a demon let out from hell. Black blood vessels appeared on his neck as he laughed, it then spread towards his arms, his eyes partially changed to black, with black claws coming out of his finger tips. Devin’s hold on my neck tightened. Surprisingly, I didn't struggle, I closed my eyes as I choked, waiting for death.

I stayed jaws dropped where the black one keeps approaching on it. " Now, we can be together. You can now act like me, think like me, and best like me!" A deep horrible voice echoes in Starks's ears until everything looks dark. As the black smoke subsided from the atmosphere, Stark gape to the sky and set a louder scream. As his head back leveling the ground, his eyes were not silver anymore, it's all res without pupil like a demon on the underworld. A strange grin was drawn on his face as he swiftly ran back to the edge of the forest going to the city.

I’ll even help you deal with any of them. “And how would I know you won’t back stab me?” “The same way I know you won’t. It’s not your reputation. Look up Black Dogs. You know of them?” “Order of mercenaries.” “Bingo,” the man said. “Asked them about Vanargand.” “I see.” “You heard of the name?” “It’s another name for Fenrir, monster-wolf of Norse mythology.” “I thought using Fenrir could be copyright infringement, or just piss the guy off.” “That would be unwise.”

I said. Shit! I cursed mentally. Why the hell did I say that? They burst out in laughter. I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "Are you done?" I asked coldly. "A girl against three gang members. You've got to be crazy." The silent one said, his voice deeper than the rest. "I'm not just 'a girl'." I confirmed. "Yeah right!" He said, rolling his eyes and removing his leather jacket, exposing a wolf tatoo on his built right upper arm. Hot!

Black titanium moonstone ring gold-veined black gold, original Chapter One ring, pulses with Manhattan moving. Kael Wolfe Blackwood kneels with me on empty stone, Tom Ford black suit torn, black shirt open, silver chain bloody, wolf tattoo collarbone running fast, gold eyes pure staring at two eyes under stone and claws moving, same gold. Burning hot hands on my shoulders burning hot and human warm alternating, cedar and rain scent sharp with first wolf fur waking.

“Jill, this is Electra. Electra, this greedy thief, is my best friend. We call him Jill.” Electra looked at the large black man covered in black ink tattoos. Just like with the wolves, she could sense his beast inside him. She never understood how she could sense shifters and the different rankings. But just as it so often happened, the two voices that were always with her confirmed what she already knew. He was from an ancient line of Siberian werecats. He was a warrior. The large black man smiled at Electra and stole another fry. “You’re gorgeous. But I’m sure you hear that a lot.”

Dante Blackwood was the key to everything, the living trace of something ancient and fierce that claimed Blackwater as its own. As she walked back, feeling Dante’s golden eyes guarding her back, Helena knew that her curiosity had led her to the edge of reason. The signs were everywhere—in the deep claw marks on the oak, in the torn leather, in the feverish heat of his skin. The supernatural was no longer a town legend; it was the breath she shared with the alpha biker. And the abyss he had spoken of no longer seemed something to be avoided, but the only possible destination for someone who had been marked by the same flame that burned in Dante’s eyes.