Bloodhound Without Mask Novels & Stories

I gently lifted the injured leg, using my chance to take a closer glance at his face to see if I'd recognize, but the cloak and mask weren't helping. My eyes traced his hand for his crescent mark. To deduce what he was. But he also wore an armband. Was he intentionally hiding his rank? But his scent, weak and fading, didn't seem highborn. He must be one of the common wolves or maybe… an Omega? His groaning drew my attention back to the wound. “Are you just going to stare at me all night?” He shot, and I retracted. “One more witty remark from you? And I'm gone. Get it?” I warned.

Stan’s predatory sneer dissolved into a mask of pure bewilderment. He shook his head, the fur on his neck bristling. “Is that truly your kin? But the scent... the age...” Even with the obsidian mask shielding Hudson’s features, his stance radiated the vitality of a wolf in his prime. He lacked the weathered musk of a male nearing his fortieth winter.

There wasn’t the slightest hint of emotion on his face whatsoever, and that’s when I realized that he was the only person not wearing a mask. He didn’t even look like a man who had just acquired a new asset. Especially not one that cost him one billion fucking dollars. A shiver crawled down my spine. Victor’s smug voice rang out seconds later. “Sold to Mr. Bloodhound.” The gavel slammed down, and my fate was sealed.

Armor designed to look like cloth. Articulated plates so thin and so precisely fitted to the body beneath that they moved like skin. And the mask. The mask was what stopped her breath for half a second. White. Perfectly smooth. Featureless. No eye holes. No mouth. No nose. No indication of how the person beneath it could see or breathe. Just a blank white oval. A face that was no face at all. *The Wolf Without a Face,* Luna thought. And felt with absolute certainty that she was not the first to think exactly that.

‘THIS PERSON. Carefully studying the hunter and not underestimating the seemingly ordinary henchman of Ivy. She sniffs twice and in the third henchmen's direction and confirmed that he reeks of the smell of blood. Although wearing a mask with his eyes is the only one that Cath could see, added by his layers of black clothes. One distinct feature that captures Cath’s attention, is the scar on his right eye which is big enough to see behind the shadow that is casting his eyes from the cap that he is wearing. ‘THAT SCAR. I HAVE SEEN IT SOMEWHERE. WHO IS THIS PERSON?’

A mask should be worn. Blood Moon grabbed a black fox mask that covers her eyes and nose, and only her red lips are visible. She walked outside the room and met her idiotic partner in crime. "Hello, Shadow," she greeted with a bit of hesitance. "Looking great, Keisha," he greeted with a playful flirt and she closed her eyes in frustration. "Do not-- Do not call me by my name," she irritatedly commanded. "I didn't know you were coming with me," she murmured with gritted teeth. Guessing from the way he dressed, she concluded that he'll be accompanying her.

I snap back, just as the door swings fully open. The man in front steps inside, holding a cattle prod, its metal tip gleaming ominously. He moves just enough to allow another man to enter, who silently sets a jug of water down on the rickety table before turning to leave. “Wait!” I shout, my voice sharp and urgent. The men pause, glancing back. “We will negotiate. What do you want?” I ask, trying to keep my tone calm despite the tension in the air. The man at the front turns his masked face toward me. His expression is hidden, but his posture radiates control. “We want nothing,” he says, his voice distorted, processed through some kind of modulator. It’s deliberate—a calculated move to ensur

The charity event requires masks, and when Brixton pulls out his, it's an intricate black metal design resembling half of a wolf’s face, as if the other half has been torn off, with teeth bared that look as sharp as I imagine they are when he shifts… if he shifts. “Are you sure that mask is appropriate for your species?” I ask, unable to hold my tongue or my curiosity about if he really is a wolf shifter. Not that I’m experienced in knowing other species well, or even wolves for that matter, but he doesn’t seem to follow the same hierarchy as everyone else around the Stones. He produces my mask, made of brown lace that leaves only my lips uncovered with wolf-shaped ears standing at attention

With tears streaming down her cheeks again she took a few trembling and painful steps in his direction, only to have them falter as soon as she accidentally noticed the outline of a tall and bulky body steadily approaching down the road. Furrowing her brows, she took a better look, noticing his olive green attire and black army boots, along with the heavy gun strapped to his thigh. Trailing her gaze to his face, she looked at that black mask covering his nose and mouth, immediately realizing what he was. BloodHound. Her eyes widened, alarms going off in her head right before her body turned in the opposite direction on its own accord, forcing her legs to move and soon, she broke off into a s

Never expected this to happen. "No... no! It's just…" she suddenly dropped her gaze from me. "It's just. I'm still a virgin. Please, don't get mad at me." I don't know if it was a perfect opportunity for me to burst out laughing when she almost got me on that note. A virgin wanted to have sex with me. Who on earth would sell her virginity to a person wearing a black facemask? Shit. She's fucking serious. What was this girl trying to prove? I sensed her heartbeat didn't go up or down. They were steady. And as one of my gifts as a wolf, she was fucking telling the truth.