Blackened Triple Tail Novels & Stories

The thirty Black Hawks were lined up like a silent funeral procession, their rotors still radiating a shimmering heat haze that smelled of burnt fuel and desperation. Skylar stood at the base of the boarding ramp, her bare feet numb against the freezing steel. She pulled Sebastian’s trench coat tighter around her, the collar turned up to hide the fresh, dark bruises Landon had branded onto her neck. The wind whipped the heavy fabric around her legs, snapping like a black flag that refused to be lowered in surrender. The bite mark on her thigh throbbed—a rhythmic, searing ache that felt as though Landon’s teeth were still sinking into her skin with every step she took.

His fur was pure black, darker than night, and his eyes were golden, glowing even through the smoke. My breath caught in my throat. He looked like a nightmare that had been made real. But the triplets didn’t hesitate. They shifted one by one, and formed a wall in front of me with their bodies pressed together, blocking his view of me. The Alpha growled deeply and fixed his golden eyes on us.

“He was bundled up, man. Hood around his face. And it was getting dark. Then when we went down to do the transaction, he’d put on this weird elephant head thing. He was a freak, what can I say.” My blood, already rushing through me, now thumped in my temples. But I kept on point. “Did you ever see this man again? That night? Since?” “Nah, man. He’d poofed when we went back down there later to tell him only one of us had gotten off, that he’d given us bad shit. It was blotter acid, right? Well, one of the tabs, it was different than the others. It had a heart on it. The other ones had smiley faces. Dude said the heart was less intense, that if we had anyone new to tripping, they’d probably do

It was the original, uncorrupted crest of the Black Mountain Pack. ​They carried spears tipped with obsidian and bows made of dark, flexible yew. But it was their eyes that stopped my heart. They weren't the dull, weary brown of ordinary humans or the solid, terrifying gold of the Sovereigns. They were a shifting, swirling silver—the Gene in its purest, most unrefined state, burning with a life force that made the air around them shimmer.

The light of the moon was still bright and Ibekwe knew he shouldn't be alone. He moved his hand to the lesion that stood in front of his forehead. He ran his fingers around it and touched it. Although he could not see it, he knew that the scar was still the same and had not changed. He dropped his hand down, trying to remove every doubts that were growing in his mind. Osisiakalaka was right. He had to filter all the teachings he had heard from Peter Stonefield. He thought of what Osisiakalaka had told him when they sat in the shrine for his final ritual. He remembered how Osisiakalaka had pressed his lips and told him that his scar would leave his forehead within the next three days. He had

Chapter 32: Finrir The Bard pt 1 Tritan carefully guided Finrir towards the cage, allowing Joe and Bryan to observe the unique appearance of Finrir's two tone tail. Finrir's front was adorned in a pristine white shade, beautifully contrasting with the fan-like pattern of black along the back of his tail, reminiscent of the majestic orcas that roamed the ocean. Even his dorsal fin bore a stri resemblance to that of an orca, exuding power and grace.

Each of them formidable alphas from packs with unique abilities and legacies. Caius Knight Black of the Nightshade Pack was a tall man with long, sleek black hair that framed his chiseled face. His eyes were a piercing silver, sharp and calculating, often concealed under the shadow of his brow. The Nightshade Pack was known for their mastery over shadows and stealth, and Caius embodied that secrecy and quiet danger. His wolf, as dark as night itself, was a shadow among shadows, capable of blending into the darkness without a trace.

He seemed eager for a drama to unfold. She also couldn't help frowning at how terrible of an imitation the other four-tailed blackie was. His tails were each half a meter and just seemed to be there for decoration or wagging. Yes, the eyes blazed more than a Lycan's- a chilling scarlet and that build, and fur that sends shudders down one's spine. But the distinction was as clear as day and night. Even a kid like her could tell who among them was a fake.

She was the target of my wrath, a tool to be destroyed to lure her mother into my grasp for the crime of taking Valeria from me. The Treaty of the Three Nations meant nothing to me anymore. It was dead in my eyes, and the blood oath we had once sworn no longer held sway over me. I had dispatched two of my best Death Sanguines to capture her. I wanted to see the expression on the faces of the Melucci twins, prominent and powerful Alphas of their kind after Alpha King Silas; when I obliterated their mate before their eyes. One move to achieve three objectives. I wanted them to feel the agony I had endured for centuries. But as the night grew deeper, only Stefan returned.

This was a place of power, of fear, a den where mercy was a forgotten word. Alpha Zane Blackthorn sat on his throne, his lean frame coiled with menace, his amber eyes glinting like a predator’s in the dim light. His shaved head gleamed under the torchlight, the claw-mark tattoos snaking up his arms a stark contrast to his pale skin. He wore a sleeveless black tunic, the fabric stained with blood—some old, some fresh—and his fingers drummed a slow rhythm on the armrest, each tap echoing like a heartbeat in the cavern’s stillness. Around him, his pack lingered, their eyes averted, their postures tense. They knew better than to speak unless spoken to. Zane’s sister, Rhea, stood at his side, her