Dallas Winston Novels & Stories

I've always been competitive with my younger sister, Daphne Gibson. If she scored a 90 in her exam, I had to get a 100. When she bought a white dress, I had to buy a more expensive red one. On the drive home after our family road trip, she got carsick and threw up. I had to throw up a couple of times, too. But then I had a sudden asthma attack and collapsed in the back seat, clutching my chest. Mom sighed in frustration. "Alice, Daphne has always been frail. Can't you be a little more understanding and stop competing with her, at least for now?" Dad said earnestly, "You're a healthy, well-behaved child. Your mom and I love you, too. But stop pretending to be sick just because Daphne is

Dallas answered as he briefly glanced at James before refocussing on the performance on stage. As a sadist, he already looked like he was itching to join them. But if Dallas and Demi performed together, they would mess the sub up. In fact, compared to Demi, Dallas was an even bigger sadist. Demi chuckled when she saw the sub shake his head to ask her to continue and whipped her flogger on his bare chest, creating beautiful crisscrossing patterns on his skin. The man was so turned on that he was visibly hard. It could be seen through the cotton shorts he was wearing.

The Devotion Pack has been almost empty, after the Alpha disappeared, and rumours of Phantom Wolves roaming around scared Pack members away. Adrian crosses him from the list. "How about Grayson?" I hesitate, lifting my head from where I was brushing lint off my jeans. Grayson? "Who's that again?" I ask. The name Grayson doesn't ring a bell in my head, which is strange, since I'm familiar with most Alphas. "Alpha of Freedom," Adrian informs me. No wonder. Shaking my head, I slip off the edge of the desk, and take the pen from Adrian's hand, proceeding to draw a thick red line over the name. My blonde haired assistant stares at me as I resume my spot.

Back corners happen to be my favorite. There aren't many books on Waindale—three or four at most. I pick up one and skim through, but the majority of its contents are too focused around city planning. I grab another, and it covers all towns in Washington. Waindale has a page. Where it's fun facts are supposed to be is only a single, scrawny sentence. Waindale, the town saved by wolves. My lips part. My heart speeds up, and I read the sentence over again. That can't be it! Saved by wolves? What does that mean? Did the author feel no need to explain?

Daniel Winters stepped through the immaculately polished glass door of the Las Duex with a smile on his face. At a proud six foot four, it was hard not to take notice of him. His face was the epitome of every woman’s wet dream as he stood with his back straight and carried himself with a stride accustomed to strength and power.

All of a sudden, the buzzing sound of my phone inside the pockets of my classic trousers pulled me back into reality. “Its Dallas. When have you been back?” His voice sounded so gentle in a woman’s ears, but it did nothing to faze me, not even the slightest. Dallas Couglan is basically the most skilled researcher scientist werewolf of the entire Blood Moon Pack. He spends most of his time in the basement, and no one’s ever seen his face fully without his mask on, including me. “Yesterday night. Hey, remember that thing you offered me five years ago?” I asked eagerly.

Tyler’s POV I watched as Dalton walked through the front door of the pack house. His face was tired and his shoulders hung. He had executed Maxine and Doctor Winder this morning and then we had all helped with tending to the hurt pack members. I didn’t go with him to see them be executed. I couldn’t bring myself to do it even though she had tried to kill me, my family, and Dalton multiple times. I just didn’t want to look her in the eyes as he took her life. I was sitting at the kitchen bar when he walked in. He eyed me and made a straight path to me. When he approached he turned my chair toward him and picked me up by my waist and held me tight to him as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

Cassandra’s point of view: Dalton had all of us standing in a line, facing him. The seriousness on his face showed that his devotion to duty never wavered. Every single trace of playfulness from earlier was long gone. “We’ll start with some exercises. Jeremy, Rowan,” Dalton ordered two warriors to come forward to show us some demonstrations. Both warriors right away started illustrating the exercises that we’d have to do for the next hour or so. They did it so smoothly as though they’d done this a couple of times already.

the other one spat. I stumbled back. His words echoed in my head as I tried to regain my footing. They were wrong. Winona was the daughter of a black man . . . But we’d never looked into her mother. I strode back to the gala, back to where I could make sense of things, and scanned the crowd for Winona. How could we not have known? Dallas held his gut as he laughed at something Winona was saying. His eyes sparkled, and his smile stretched wider than it ever did with me or his boys.

The smaller immediately pouted at it and then put it down to gather his stuff. Ford really fucking wished the alpha would stop taking his damn coffee. Dallas stood, his elbow was grabbed, it was his alpha seat-neighbor, “You know, you’ve been really glowing lately. I wished I noticed sooner because you’re honestly really beautiful. You wanna go out some time? I’ll give you my number.” The omega kind of just looked at him. Was he... blind or something? Did he not just see Dallas’s hands all over him? Could he not smell Dallas Oaks on him? “U-uhm..”