Bloodhound Without Mask Novels & Stories

He sighed and brushed his hand in his hair the other hand resting in his pocket and he stopped smiling and said in a deep voice, “Seeing you now is risking my life, you know my first name and for the first time I am not afraid to take such a step.” He turned to me and this time he looked straight in my eyes and he continues, “I will try and come back here to see you. But if I can’t and you can recognize me without my mask when we meet once again, then I won’t hesitate to be yours forever. This I promise.”

The Council’s most ruthless hunter. And it was already tracking their scent. The first scream tore through the camp like a knife. Rio bolted upright as silver-eyed vampires rushed past the window. The air was thick with the stench of blood and burning wood. “They’ve found us,” Odessa hissed, her crimson coat swirling as she unsheathed twin daggers. Claude’s voice roared outside. “TO ARMS!” The Bloodhound struck like a shadow. Seven feet tall, its black cloak shredded by thorns, its pale, eyeless face framed by a mane of tangled hair. Long, jagged claws gleamed in the firelight as it tore through two rebels in a single swipe—one headless, the other split nearly in half.

This car was thick with the smell of blood and urine from my dead abductor. “There will be an investigation into this,” I said worriedly, stepping out of the car. Who the hell fired bullets in broad daylight in this kind of upper-class town? “Under control,” was all the masked man said, as he gestured for me to step away from the car. One of his colleagues climbed into the driver's seat, and sped away with the corpse and shattered glass. I wondered what they looked like under these masks shaped like a dog's head. Must be nice to have a mask on when all the security cameras have most defiantly captured my own face at this point.

An elegant onyx-black mask, etched with faintly glowing wolf runes. My eyes narrowed. “The mask is designed to hide your aura,” He referred to Maverick. “It will help distort your voice, block scent tracking and also cloaks your magical signature and facial recognition” He said. I took the mask, staring and admiring it. A key for walking into human spaces without detection. “It’s bound to your energy,” Ardan said. “Only you can remove it. And if it breaks... we have problems.” I crossed my arms. “So you’re going to play Batman now?”

"Put the gun away and back off." He doesn't move, so this time, I take him by the arm, easing him backwards. The pitch is low. Whatever's producing the sound is big. As we retreat a few steps, the owner of the sound emerges. And he's a whopper. Black, with ginger face markings and eyebrows, this dog could be cast as 'Hellhound of the Year'. A Rottweiler, he crouches, body hanging low, ears laid flat back. His eyes are white-rimmed and his lips pulled back to display ranks of pristine teeth.

The ground bore witness to the remnants of their battle, stained with the evidence of their demise. In the aftermath of the skirmish, silence descended upon the scene. Beverly, her breaths heavy and labored, stood amidst the fallen werewolves, their lifeless bodies a testament to her indomitable power. The mask that concealed her features remained intact, leaving her true identity veiled in the shadows.

My hand slipped from Mason's grasp as I instinctively closed my eyes, shielding myself from the force with which the horse seemed to be racing towards us. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pounding of hooves ceased. The world grew still, and I hesitantly opened my eyes. Before me stood the majestic black horse, its breathing laboured from the exertion. The man who had ridden it dismounted gracefully, his gaze intense as it locked onto mine even though his face was covered with a black mask and a matching cloak that was flying because of the wind in the field. “Why is my pet bleeding ?” the man said and I instantly recognized the voice.

He counted nineteen wolves with scars while looking at their faces for their possible leader. "You like what you see?" He heard a voice say behind him, and he quickly turned to see a man wearing a mask, his black eyes glowing out through the mask. "The Luna of the Blackwood pack is so beautiful I must say. Be careful lad, someone from your pack might take her away from you," the masked man said. Alexander immediately sensed that the masked man had the same scent he had registered from his chamber. He immediately stood in chase of him when the masked man shifted into his wolf form and ran fast into the woods.

she instructed, slipping on her own sleek mask. Hound adjusted the mask, his breath slow and deliberate. As he inhaled, a shimmering purple gas filled the mask, burning his throat and dying his teeth a deep violet. Thin, branching veins surfaced around his eyes, glowing red and purple, stretching down his neck, over his chest, and spreading across his body like creeping vines. His pupils dilated, glowing an unearthly silver. The room dimmed around him, swallowed by darkness, until he could see nothing but void. Reality one

(POV: BRIANNA) The man pulled his fingers out of my mouth slowly. A thin string of saliva connected my lips to his fingertips in the dimness of that dark room. Booth seven felt like a studio entirely isolated from the rest of the world. The crimson illumination cast massive shadows across the velvet walls. I could barely make out his features. He wore a heavy black mask that covered almost his entire face. However, as he moved, the light caught his perfectly aligned, stark white teeth—a dangerous contrast to the darkness enveloping him.