Fangs Novels & Stories

She mindlessly nodded, her actions though faltering for a moment as she finally took notice of that term of endearment at the end of his sentence. Wait. He really was trying to- She quickly grabbed that folded napkin from the side of her plate, angrily passing it over her mouth. Oh, she was definitely about to... That mild sting on the middle of her lower lip was the first thing she had felt. Followed by that air forcefully leaving her lungs. Her blood freezing in her veins. Her heart stopping. They were...red...a dark shade of burgundy red...his eyes...they were bloody red. Literally. And there were two sharp and pearly-white fangs protruding from between his

His eyes gleam like coals buried deep, fury bright. We clash again. Fang on fang, claw on claw, our bodies a blur of violence. He lunges for my throat. I twist, his teeth snap air, and I rake my claws down his face, leaving three red stripes across his muzzle. He howls, staggered, and I surge forward, jaws locking around his scruff.

Claiming. “Mate,” I whisper. “Yes, mate,” he breathes. “You’re mine now… and I won’t let you go.” Before I can even react, he pulls me into his arms, his grip unrelenting. Then I see it. His fangs. Elongated. Glinting. Dangerous. “No... No, no, no,” I protest weakly. But it’s too late. He sinks them into my neck. Deep. Hard. Claiming. I gasp.

My eyes flew back open and I froze. Roman had sunk his fangs into my neck. Long fangs with hook ends that felt as large as fish hooks ripping into me. Wolfs have canines…not fangs. So Roman didn’t have fangs. Why was he marking me again and not even in the spot he’s supposed to do it? I began to feel a pull immediately, the sickening sensation of my blood leaving my body. No. Roman wasn’t marking me. He was feeding from me, draining my blood.

I swallowed every drop without hesitation and he collapsed into a boneless heap on the bed, panting heavily. I observed him, his tousled hair framing his bright eyes and open mouth, a vision of flawless allure that belonged to me. His sharp fangs, reminiscent of daggers, teased from his lips, stirring a primal heat within me. Descending upon him, I pressed his form into the mattress, our bodies entwined in a passionate embrace. Our mouths melded together, his tongue tracing the contours of my fangs as I tasted his blood for the first time. A primal growl escaped me as I withdrew from his lips, turning my attention to his neck.

her scent of Honey and buttercream Flooded me, it was all her. “What are you doing?” My voice cracked. “You will see”, My teeth grazed the crook of her neck, not in passion, but in a twisted claim” my mouth opened against her neck, fangs—long, needle-sharp—I struck like a viper. no warning. Just a wet pop as it echoed in the room, breaking through the skin.

The Third Bite Later at Jake’s condo overlooking the Bow River, candles lit the quiet room. The city lights glittered outside. Jake approached Alex slowly. “This is the last step,” he said. Alex nodded. “I’m ready.” Jake bit him carefully. A powerful wave of energy surged through Alex’s body. His senses sharpened even more, his skin cooled, and his fangs appeared fully for the first time. When he looked in the mirror later, his eyes glowed faint silver. Alex smiled. “So it’s official.” Jake wrapped his arms around him. “Forever.” The Exposure

No tale could scare the Texan girl, who had seen more horror movies, than the ones the tales told. She laughed at the myths. Until the myths started watching her. It all began with a dream. The sharp fangs in the dark, the glowing amber eyes in the trees, and hands so cold, that they burned. Then the whispers came. The feeling of being watched, and followed. The shadows that moved in places where no light touched, and her name, whispered in voices that wasn't quite human. Mary Ginger didn't know it yet, but her blood had begun to sing. She didn't know of the two oldest families in the town, but they knew about her.

Then came the fangs. Sharp, long, and merciless, they sank deep into the side of her neck with a wet, piercing sound. Autumn’s scream tore through the cell, echoing into the darkness like a dying animal’s cry. Pain exploded through her veins like liquid fire, burning hotter than any wound she’d ever endured. Her wolf surged forward inside her chest, howling in feral agony, fighting against the invasive pull that threatened to drain not just her blood but her very essence.

I roared. I threw the fang at the Author. It didn't hit him like a bullet. It hit him like a **Virus**. The fang buried itself in the Author’s chest. The "Narrative" wall shattered. The black ink words—*The Hero fell*—turned into violet birds and flew away. The Author looked down at the fang. His white sweater began to turn black. His skin began to grow fur. "What... what is this?" he gasped. "This isn't in the 'Outline'!"