Bloodhound Without Mask Novels & Stories

Calhoun said, but his humor vanished as the first of the Iron Hounds broke through the treeline. They were horrific. Massive, coal black wolves with glowing red runes etched into their fur. Leading them was a man on top a horse that looked like it had been stitched together from nightmares. He wore the silver mask of the High Council. "Calhoun Northman, Alpha of the Bloodhound pack!" the masked man shouted, his voice amplified by magic. "You harbor a Lunar Blood. Hand her over for cleansing or your lands will be salted and your empires erased." Cleansing? I do not need to be cleansed.

As they passed through the crowd, the temperature in the banquet seemed to have dropped by several degrees, leading the other guests to frown and shiver. They were people who wore silver full face masks, which left everyone with no way to know what kind of expression they were having at the moment. All that everyone could see were the cold shadowy eyes staring straight at one direction… that seemed to be towards… me? No… It was not towards me… but towards the person standing just behind me… Alpha Kain! I watched as they approached in our direction, although deep inside I was still calm. Whoever they were, they were still a part of the Blood Hound Pack, a force that I have to eliminate in the

I should have questioned him, but the lust for blood was a little too overwhelming. Breathing heavily. I crouch beside his lifeless body, ripping the mask from his face, and I turn his head to the side, looking for any marks on his flesh that could give me an indication as to who these men are or who they work for. I turn his head to the other side, and a dog tag peeks out from under his shirt. “Fucking mercenaries!” I hiss, ripping the chain from around his neck, and I shove it into my pants pocket.

Chapter three- His Mask Third-person POV She looks at the performer dumbfounded by the singer who has a hat on and a mask on his face, he smiles in her way and she can see it from the way his eyes were shining in her way. Seconds later, she holds her chest as she feels her heart beating faster and her chest tightening. So she walks towards the performers and stands at the tip of the platform, she doesn’t stop there but walks forward.

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.