Blackwolf Driver Novels & Stories

Sierra agreed before: “Lucas watch out!” It was then something dashed out of the treeline right across the road and straight into their path. Lucas felt his heart leap into his throat as the wolf turned to face the truck, teeth bared and ears back. The black and sable coat was enough to let him know it was the feral but none of that mattered. He had already put his foot down on the break as a reflex and didn’t have time to correct his error. The back end of the truck spun out, dragging the whole vehicle across the slippery road before it hit something large and flipped.

The two drivers opened their doors and got out, walking towards me as well. “We don’t want any trouble, we are just lackeys in everything.” They held up their hands in surrender, holding still as I stalked past them to the van. I swung open the side door, its hinges protesting loudly. There was nothing inside except for road block equipment, vests, and someone’s half eaten sandwich. “Son of a bitch!” I slammed the door home and turned to the two wolves. I knew they were Black Haven, the stench of licorice was strong on them. The two bikers had joined the others, more than likely feeling safety in numbers. They were slight and about a good half foot or more shorter than me, making them as mor

It was a fighter, a warrior. The leader of the rogues snarled, his eyes flashing. "Who are you?" he shouted, his voice trembling with fear. "I am Darius Blackmaw. I am the Alpha of the Blackrock Pack." The black wolf did not react. He only shifted, a quiet, silent specter who attacked without warning. He was a force of nature, a whirlwind of teeth and claws. He tore through the rogues with brutal efficiency that made my blood curdle. They were no match for him. They were sacrificial lambs to the killing.

Just as my spirit is stewing in this horrible misfortune, a sleek, dark mountain transport suddenly cuts right in front of our path, performing a super aggressive manoeuvre that blocks our horse-vehicle completely. The driver slams on his leather brakes, his heart racing with pure fright and anger. He rolls down his glass window, ready to unleash a giant tirade of growls. “What kind of driving is that? Do your paws even know how to guide a transport? You…” But all his wolf anger deflates like a popped bladder when he sees two giant warriors in black leather armour step out of the transport. The driver clamps his mouth shut tightly, not daring to make another single peep.

"Our wolves are showing up to your family ranch in that massive thing? Shall my hands call the Supreme Pack Director's personal guard to give our boots an official escort into the center hollow?" "Is the machine far too much for your tracker soul?" I ask, watching his body language. "Yes," he whispers. "My wolf desires absolutely zero attention. Our spirits possess enough pack drama to handle already." The driver stands completely still, holding the iron door open, waiting for Luka's male frame to climb inside the cabin. My beast does not move a single inch. Instead, I turn my face to the warrior driver, my voice dropping to an absolute alpha command. "Bring my hands a completely different m

“Has your inner wolf lost its survival instincts entirely?” Logan slammed the cabin door shut with a deafening bang, his iron fingers wrapping around my wrists as he pulled my entire frame violently against his chest to shield me from the impact. He directed a low, rumbling command toward the driver through the partition grate. “Drive.” “State the territory target, Alpha.” The driver’s confused eyes shifted through the viewing slot, his ears twitching. It was always an immense burden for a common driver to manage a high-caste mated pair locked in a territorial dispute.

Metal screeches and I raise the gun, anger coursing through me. Time seems to slow; I see the masked driver’s eyes through the windshield, dark and focused as they meet mine. Who the fuck are you? Human or wolf? The thought is gone as fast as it came as Zion lifts his gun and fires. One clean shot. Straight through the skull. We duck as the passenger fires back. Zion twists and shoots him dead.

“Hey there, welcome to our humble abode. I’m Roberto, the beta of this pack. I’ll be your guide for today.” The driver grunted and got out of the truck. He looked around with a disdainful expression, as if he was disgusted by the sight of the forest. “Yeah, yeah, nice to meet you. I’m Hank, the head technician of Wolf Tech. We’re here to install some cameras and sensors in your backwoods. Where do you want us to start?”

KAELEN BLACKTHORNE "My wolf smells your blood all the way from the highway," I bark into my phone, my teeth grinding together so hard they click. I am tearing down the road, my hands crushing the steering wheel of my truck until the leather groans. Abbott sent me a picture from the premium wagon shop, and seeing Lyra standing so close to that rogue cab driver made my chest turn into an open furnace. The beast under my skin is screaming to tear that male's throat out.

“You don’t know who I am. My last name is Erickson. My name is Victor Erick—” “You need to leave,” Waylon says to the doctor, “We’ll handle this.” Victor Erickson, a name dipped in notoriety and fear, even to this day. The doctor blanches, scanning between the three of them as the puzzle pieces click. What kind of man comes in with a gunshot wound to the head and acts so flippant about it after the fact. It could only be that man, one and the same, the Black Wolf. “Of course,” the doctor says, bowing and ducking out of the room like a dog with its tail between its legs.