Black Cat Warrior Novels & Stories

ALEXANDER My father and sister were both pretty fucked-up, but, damn, Blake was sick. Because we had to make do with what was available in the casino, which wasn’t much, Blake had a bunch of his warriors holding the members of the Bois Sombre Pack down while he tortured them. They were both fully naked after being forced into their human forms. Chef’s knives were brought in from the kitchen, and Blake tested each one of them out on the men’s torsos until he figured out which one was the sharpest, their ensuing screams widening his smile, his eyes gleaming.

:Warrior, you said you had another such vision earlier. Rhychard nodded as he told them about the incident at his parents' house. "That one was real enough to singe my fingertips." He held out his hands for their inspection. Tryna slid off the table, took his fingers in her tiny hands, and inspected them as if she were a doctor. "You really should have had Kree treat these burns when they first occurred. That is part of the reason cosheys bond with Warriors, remember? Their healing powers help keep you alive."

But I could feel the tension radiating off her like heat from a blade just drawn. I stepped forward. “You all know why I’ve called this meeting,” I said. My voice echoed, sharp in the silence that followed. “There’s no need to drag it out.” Some heads turned. Some didn’t. I took Kaliah’s hand and raised it slightly. “This is Kalilah of the former Silver Moon Pack. Warrior. Survivor. The one who ended Axel.” A ripple went through them—recognition, disbelief, something like awe, then doubt. “She is also,” I continued, “my mate.”

I recognize him. Rathor of the Ashclaw Pack. A butcher. A coward. A male who rose by killing his own siblings. He grins when he sees me. “Alpha Selene Blackthorn. Still standing.” I bare my teeth. “Disappointed?” His gaze flicks past me—lands on Liam. Ah. There it is. “You should have handed him over,” Rathor says smoothly. “This war ends if you do.” My wolf explodes. I don’t remember shifting—but suddenly I’m larger, claws slicing into the earth, voice carrying with supernatural force.

He fought down a smile. Liv's breaths came quickly as her eyes locked on his body. He had muscles she hadn't even known existed. He was like a marble sculpture, all hard planes and valleys, veins popping out from his extraordinary muscles. When his thumbs tugged down his briefs, her breath caught in anticipation, but he shifted before Liv could even get a glance at what was under the black cloth. She jerked in surprise. Between one blink and the next, he'd gone from a muscled Viking warrior to a huge, white wolf. He was so large she thought he looked like one of the Dire wolves from Game of Thrones.

The street lamps began to crumble just like they had done the day of the accident, the earth crumbling as the ground quaked. “Seems you could use a little help, little vamparina.” A masculine voice resonated in the air. Vamparina? There he stood, along with my parents, his eyes red, his black dreadlocks running down along his face, his muscles big, merging perfectly with his physique, his perfectly chiseled jawline with a black cloak on. “Blood!” They groaned. “Back to the underworld.” He said as he raised his hands. The air stood still, flame engulfing the creatures in a minute. Groans filled the air as they began to disintegrate into soot, flowing along with the wind.

She’d sent an army. I didn’t wait for orders. The instant one of those bastards crossed the threshold, I shifted. Bones snapped, skin tore, fur ripped through my flesh in a burst of fire. My wolf surged forward, black and massive, claws like steel, fangs dripping venom. The first Black Fang warrior lunged at me, blade raised. I caught him mid-strike, crushed his arm until bone splintered, and tore out his throat in a spray of hot blood. The second slashed from behind. I spun, claws catching his chest, ripping through armor like paper. He gurgled, collapsed, and didn’t rise.

It was rage. "I'm not running," I hissed. I turned to the warriors of the Blood Moon who were still shaking on the floor. "You want to prove you're loyal? You want to see if your new Queen can protect you? Then get up! If you don't fight now, he’ll kill every single one of you after he's done with me!" Beta Marcus was the first to find his courage. He shifted into his brown wolf form and let out a howl, charging at the Sentinel’s flank. Five other warriors followed, a blur of fur and teeth.

I was on the roof. There was nowhere to go. I turned around. The door burst open. Marcus Blackwood stood there. He was human again. He was covered in Rian's blood. He smiled. “Nowhere left to run, little Anchor,” Blackwood said. He walked toward me. “Thorne is down. The pack is mine. And you...” He reached out. He grabbed my bleeding arm. He squeezed the wound. I screamed. “You are the battery that will power my empire.”

KATNISS Every child in the werewolf world grew up hearing stories about Hassan Blackthorn. They called him the Shadow King, a cold, ruthless warlord disguised in a billionaire’s tailored suit. He was a brilliant military strategist who had never lost a single border conflict, a man whose dark gray eyes could bring an enemy Alpha to his knees without uttering a single word. He trusted no one, cared nothing for the petty squabbles of the Alpha Council, and ruled the massive Blackthorn territory with absolute, unyielding logic. He was a monster, but he was an efficient one.