Fenrir Wolf Tattoo Design Novels & Stories

But he still looks meek against Fenrir. Fenrir was twice his size. A giant wolf, perhaps passing for a Lycan, the largest but long-extinct werewolf race. Fenrir’s wolf was skinnier but was evidently muscled and agile. He was a midnight black wolf, who had rich fur, and his dark eyes were more slanted, like that of a fox’s—unlike Flavian’s round, doe-like eyes. They were the perfect polar opposites. Their stark contrast, as much as I hate to admit it, is a fascinating thing to witness.

“Oi Fenrir, come here!” I summoned Fenrir who was commanding all the wolf troops. Alpha and Segawon bow to him because he is the real leader. Fenrir is a hybrid creature from a cross between a werewolf and a lighting wolf. Not only was he crossed, he was also the result of the crazy Professor's research trials. There are 2 hybrid creatures that survive and it just so happens that a boy and a girl, it is the result of their marriage that eventually becomes Selen.

Standing at the front of the Wolves' line was Fenrir Vane. At 6'4" and two hundred and forty pounds, the star defenseman looked absolutely monstrous. His heavy black jersey made his broad shoulders look twice as wide, and his dark eyes were locked onto my face with a terrifying, unhinged focus. He wasn't looking at the ice. He wasn't looking at our coach. He was staring directly at my chest, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his scarred face. His scent—the sharp, bitter smell of burning ash and wet asphalt—flared out in a dominant wave, explicitly targeting my sensitive dynamic.

He tells us as the pack surrounds us. “Imagine your wolves and let them take control.” Dad says as he circles us. The mighty Fenrir gave us the push we need. I’m not nervous as I watch Nicholas shift first. I wince as it looks painful. He falls to the floor as his bones snap. Black fur sprouts along his arms as he looks up at me. His face elongates as his eyes turn red as a feral growl rips from his throat as his wolf takes charge and bursts forward. He whimpers as he stands. I smile as I look at my brother. He is magnificent. Black fur with red eyes, he has a small white patch on his chest. He towers above me. He walks towards me, his red eyes looking into my soul as he nods his huge head a

I finally let out the words in a horrified yell. Auren towers over me, looking unbothered, "Whatever you think, cupcake, I just need a fragment of it," He whips out a necklace with a small piece of emerald in the shape of a jar attached to it. "I'm not giving you anything!" I bellow, jumping further into the bed. "I'm not taking all of it. Just a fragment, what's your problem?" He grits his teeth, knitting his brows together in irritation. "Is this because of your wolf? Then take him away from me! I don't want anything to do with him," I try to reason with him.

Zathrion said, determined. ‘How did I even forget my BP drugs?’ he thought. He stood up from behind the tree, staggered, then steadied himself. As he bent down to pick up his bullets, he spotted a huge wild animal and smiled to himself. "Finally, I’ve got hold of a big one. I’m sure I’ve won, yes!" he said excitedly. But then what he saw was the most dangerous and heavily warned against animal: a wolf. Unfortunately for him, he aimed his gun at her direction and shot the wolf in the deadliest spot.

Reluctantly I put my hand on Clayton’s shoulder to get his attention. Clayton turned around to meet my eyes. For those who hadn’t seen him angry before I had to admit it was a terrible sight. His rage filled eyes were a dark blood red colour. His inch and a half long fangs, that usually weren’t there, had grown in response to the emotionally charged situation. When he noticed it was me his eyes softened slightly. Alpha Clayton had both werewolf and vampire blood so his inner beast was a hybrid. So when he got pissed enough his wolf/ vampire would surface. As a result Alpha Clayton’s wolf Xavier was a bit different than most wolves. He was much more cruel.

That same fierce, unwavering loyalty fueled his current stubbornness. For Alaric, the distaste for his wings wasn’t rooted in trauma; he simply hated their color. Every other member of his family and the Fenrir court boasted pure, blinding white wings. His, however, were an unforgiving pitch black. Being the sole living Fenrir was already an isolated existence, and the dark wings served as a constant, unwelcome reminder of his difference. But now, something had shifted. He found the color black… not quite so displeasing.

I watch Fenrir, with a similar expression of 'awe' and 'shock.' I've never seen a wolf so large; he can crush another with a single paw. What the hell is he? A wolf that big isn't even considered a wolf. His eyes are dark mercury, boring into mine searching for something, what? My thoughts freeze when something wet and slimly drizzles onto my shoulder. A deep, heavy breath that sounds like slobbering echoes behind me. I almost vomit from the stench of its breath, my stomach curling uncomfortably.

He dwarfed even the largest natural wolf Rowan had ever imagined. His coat was midnight black, absorbing the fading light until only his golden eyes seemed to exist. Unlike Fen’s calm, intelligent gaze… These eyes burned. Old hatred. Old grief. Old rage. The black Direwolf smiled. Or at least… That was the only way Rowan could describe the baring of his teeth. “It has been a very long time…” His voice was low. Cultured. “…Fenrir.” Every muscle in Fen’s body tightened. The name struck Rowan like lightning.