Fangs For The Memories Novels & Stories

I leaned against the glass, drawing a sad face in the mist with my finger before quickly smudging it away. I cranked up the water temperature, desperate to wash away the grime and the memories. My skin stung as I scrubbed, turning red from the rough scrubbing. His sharp fangs had left a map of love bites and scratches all over me, each mark a vivid reminder of our time together. Every time I peel off my clothes, the memories hit me. Even as the marks start to fade, I can't shake off the memory of his strong arms around me—his embrace was so tender, with his muscles and veins throbbing with every heartbeat.

The familiar scent of cocoa still lingers faintly in the air, reminding me of the night before—the quiet, the stories, the safety I didn’t understand but didn’t question either. I climb out of bed, padding barefoot across the wooden floor. The house is quiet. Safe. But my mind isn’t. I wander down the hall, my fingers brushing the wallpaper like it could whisper truths to me. And then— Flash. A cold wall against my back. A hand tangled in my hair. Teeth. Not gentle. Not sweet. Fangs. Sinking. My breath catches in my throat as the memory slams into me like a blade to the chest. I stumble, one hand bracing the wall as my knees tremble.

The memories I’d been chasing clawed their way through my skull—faint scenes of moonlit paths, her hair flowing behind her, and my arms shielding her from the dangers of hunts. She was mine. Not just a memory, not just a fleeting bond. Every fragment screamed it, resonating through my very being. My wolf howled, confirming what I already knew deep within. But even as I clutched to those memories, pain erupted behind my eyes. Like silver burning through my veins, it forced me to stagger slightly, my grip on her tightening despite myself. “Don’t forget,” my wolf growled faintly. Its desperation mirrored my own. The memories slipped further, my thoughts shattering into splintered remnants of no

My wolf clawed at it from the inside, snarling, desperate, like he knew what waited behind it. I gripped the photo harder, my breath coming rough now, but I still couldn’t look away. I was close. I knew I was close. The memory was right there, just out of reach, and if I could push through it, if I could tear past whatever had been done to me, I would know. “Frank, stop.” I shook my head, sending agony shooting through me. “No,” I forced out. “I need to remember.” Something warm trickled down the side of my neck.

He was reaching for me. > WARNING: MEMORY FILES UNDER ATTACK. OVERRIDE INITIATED. Pain lanced through my skull. I staggered, gripping the table for balance. Images flashed, fragments of my life. The first day Gloss walked into my office, eyes bright and daring. The first time he smiled when he caught me staring. The night the system forced us to share a bed. The way his laughter made everything quieter. Each memory was vivid for a heartbeat, then pixelated and vanished like sand through water.

I was going to bottle it up in my mind and burn the memory of it in my ears so there was no possible way of me forgetting it. I traced my index finger over the ridges of his muscles, sliding down the dips and valleys that were more prominent now than they were a year ago. I ogled his skin that held a golden tan, licking my lips the way I wanted to lick my way down his body. Every bit of him. I was going to carve out a space in my mind and dedicate it to remembering every detail that made up this man so if this went south, I'd still have my vivid memories of him.

Chase *****Early Evening — The Restored Palace of Silverfang***** The first thing I remembered was dying. Not vaguely. Not like a fading dream. I remembered it clearly. I remembered Elena’s hands shaking against my chest. I remembered the blood. I remembered the curse tearing through me like fire. I remembered the way her voice broke when she begged me to stay. And then… darkness. Not sleep. Not peace. Nothing. Now, standing in the wide glass hall of the restored Silverfang palace, I leaned against one of the marble pillars and let those memories crash into me again.

The Shadows seemed to sense my resolve, their power surging forward to claim the Forsaken's memories, to reveal the secrets she had kept hidden for so long. The memories continued to pour in, a relentless tide of hardship and struggle. I recalled the desolate landscape of my early twenties, a time when life was a mere existence, a series of empty hours strung together without purpose or direction. I was a shadow of a person, haunting the streets, always looking over my shoulder, never staying in one place for too long.

“But you remember it. Even the parts you want to forget.” There was no use denying it. Carolina remembered everything. The glass towers, the gargling sirens, the helpless ache of her father’s hands as he pushed her into the freezer during the first wave, then never came out again. The endless cruise of survival, the way even kindness became edged. She remembered the way Xander looked at her in the morning after Terrible Nights, desperate for something soft in a world that couldn’t bear it. Finch slid a card toward her. He was good at knowing when to say nothing.

Stacy was saying, but Lucien was no longer on my mind. A man leading a herd of cows passed by, and my eyes were glued to their smooth necks. I could feel my teeth getting sharper, and I swallowed, already salivating. The memory of drinking sweet blood the previous night came rushing to me, and my breathing pattern changed. My fangs protracted, and there was a mad urge to charge at the cows. I couldn’t hold it… No, I couldn’t. It was… it was too hard.