Dark Hunt Novels & Stories

The darkness was absolute. When Ethan initiated the Blackout Protocol, he hadn’t just cut the power to the flower shop; he had sent a localized electromagnetic pulse through the Hawke Tower mainframe, cascading down the coast. The violet sensors of the SUVs died instantly, leaving Julian and Cassandra Reed blind in the middle of a Maine blizzard. But the darkness wasn't just an absence of light. It was a predator. The Hunter in the Garden Aria felt Ethan’s hand drop from hers. In the void, she heard the rustle of his tailored wool coat hit the porch floor. He was shedding the billionaire skin, preparing for a type of combat that didn't involve contracts or boardrooms.

I wonder what made Inker agree to seal their mate bond in the first place? "Lastly, he goes Midnight hunting across the Darkrangers pack on Sundays." My head flicks up and I pin my wide gaze on Pudim. "Midnight hunting in Darkrangers?" Pudim nods. "I'm afraid so. The anarchy in the Darkrangers pack has made it easy for him to hunt there." And by hunting, he doesn't mean the usual hunting our kind does in the woods, no. That bloody bastard Damon is out there kidnapping alpha pups in the Darkrangers pack.

Neither Hendricks nor Franks seemed capable of looking directly at him—but then, there weren’t many in the pack these days who were. Still, he’d expected better from these two, and he ran his tongue over his teeth just to be sure he was in the clear. “Be careful,” they replied in unison, looking relieved to be passing the situation to him. The milky glow of the nearly full moon caught his eye as Razl made his way toward the vehicle, and his beast gave a lazy stretch beneath his skin, his senses quickening with a primal rush, eager…almost desperate to hunt. He’d been so busy lately he’d ignored his predatory hungers, which was never a smart move—especially for a bloodline as powerful as his.

How I long for death myself, to give it my own life but that is not enough, it wants the suffering and wants me to blacken my soul. The old hag of a witch can give some guidance but I must seek more. She will help but not endanger herself. I must find one who can either draw the beast from hiding or one with a soul that is neither white nor black. One who can dance with the Devil and not fall before him and yet still have the light of the divine. I will journey on. I only know that dreams will be some sort of guide. The dark rider was amongst the foliage of holly and ivy and plants that do not grow on English lands. So, I know that foreign lands are where I need to be.

Dark of Night Copyright 2019 Emily Goodwin Chapter One “What do you see when you look at this one?” The doctor holds up a card, showcasing an ink splotch that’s twisted and creepy, with eyes that follow you no matter where you go. I look at it, heart hammering away inside my chest. The mess of ink on the white paper reminds me of the monster that lurks in Nana and Papa’s basement, the one that tried to get Abby and Scott to go downstairs with it.

he hissed. My head whipped around. The alley filled with darkness like it was a liquid. "What the he-," I started. Anton grasped my arm and pulled. The familiar fear I felt earlier gripped my throat. I'd never seen the darkness actually move before. It was coming at me. The soft edges of it blurred out everything as it melted forward. The streetlight above us flickered and buzzed before it shorted out leaving us in complete darkness. "Shit," Anton spat. "Come on." He tugged at my arm.

Henry*** The Dark Moon Pack stands before us, but it’s no longer the sanctuary we left. The heavy wooden gates creak open slowly, revealing a scene that steals my breath. The courtyard is unrecognizable—charred earth, broken weapons scattered like fallen leaves, and the air thick with the coppery tang of blood. The silence is oppressive, broken only by the faint groans of the injured. The once-proud walls of the packhouse bear deep gashes, as if claws—or something far worse—had torn through them. My stomach turns. This isn’t just an attack. It’s a massacre.

I engaged the Amber-Shift. The Norton launched into the rift, the gold light of the forest cutting through the violet gloom like a sunburst. I spiraled down the circular ramp, my tires screaming on the slick, unformatted rock. At the bottom, in a massive cavern filled with humming servers and rusted iron cages, I saw him. Dax was chained to a central pillar, his vest torn, his chest heaving. Standing over him was the Shadow-Wolf leader, holding a long, glowing needle a Neural-Extractor.

She just watched him come at her, aware that the other hunters and the human security force were fighting off Darkness’s army and wouldn't come to her rescue. Damonq moved then, with sudden blurring speed, catching Darkness by the back of the neck and slamming his head into his leg and then into the floor with shocking strength. He flung the master evil backward again and was instantly over top of him, his fist driving deep into the creature’s chest. Darkness screamed, shrieking for his army to come, to kill Damonq. He fought, pounding at the wounds on Damonq’s legs, lunging forward to bite at him savagely with his sharp teeth, tearing chunks of flesh from him.

The house is deadly quiet. Steeling myself, I grip the hand and yank the door open. The hall is pitch black, creepy now that I’m finally taking time to study it. Thanks to my wolf side, I can see in the dark with no problem. But that doesn’t make it any less chilling. Shadows cling to every corner, darting across the bare, empty space. The floor creaks slightly as I step from my room, closing the door softly behind me. I pause, holding my breath, just waiting for Dominic to pop up and order me back to my room. But he doesn’t.