Fenris-hawke Novels & Stories

His eyelids flutter, revealing slivers of chaotic crimson. He starts to thrash, a snarl building in his throat. "Hush now," I say soothingly. I grab my spare jacket. It's soaked in my sweat and perfume. I ball up the sleeve and, without hesitation, shove it into his growling mouth. "Bite down," I command. The moment the fabric touches his tongue, Fenris freezes. His eyes snap open—hazy, unfocused, but locked onto me. He doesn't spit it out. Instead, he bites down greedily, his jaw working as he sucks the scent from the fabric. He slumps back against the seat, his nose twitching as he inhales the scent of my jacket like it's the strongest drug on earth.

Fenris had been standing there for hours, staring at nothing, thinking of everything. "You found something," Fenris said without turning around. Nikolai stepped inside. He closed the door behind him. The click of the lock echoed in the silence. "Yes." "Tell me." "The Wolfe heir. We have a name." Fenris turned. His gray eyes were flat, hungry, the eyes of a man who had been hunting for eight years and was tired of coming up empty. "What name?" "Raven. No location. Just a first name that surfaced in an old police report."

He fell to his knees. He looked up at the breach. A shadow stepped through the dust. It was larger than the Bear. It was a wolf made of pure void and shadow. It had no eyes. Just burning green pits. Fenris. The leader of the Primevals. Fenris walked toward Victor. He didn't hurry. He knew he had won. Victor tried to raise his hand. Fenris swatted him aside like a fly. Victor hit the wall and slid down. He didn't move.

At the end of the hall, the massive lead doors were blasted open. Inside, the scene was a "Tyler Perry" nightmare of high-tech sacrilege. Julian stood over a surgical cradle, his hands moving across a holographic interface. Zora-Aethel lay in the center, her tiny body covered in white-gold electrodes. She wasn't crying. She was staring at the ceiling, her eyes a dull, terrifying grey. And behind her, looming in the shadows, was Fenris. He had returned to a semi-human form, but he was ten feet tall, his skin a translucent white that showed the mercury flowing through his veins. He looked at Dante and smiled—a look of pure, paternal hunger.

He steps closer to the figure slumped in the chair. “You know,” he says conversationally, as if speaking to an old friend, “I warned them. I told them what happens when a Warren heir comes back to Hallow’s Edge.” No response. Not even a twitch. Jason smiles, slow and satisfied. “Raven Warren,” he continues, pacing in front of the chair. “She thinks she’s just another foster kid. She has no idea what she is. What she carries. What she’ll unleash.” Still nothing. Jason crouches, bringing his face level with the figure’s.

"Anyway, the White Wolf's soldiers assigned for the operation later are Team, Simon, Seth, his girlfriend Rose Brandon and her brother, Ash Brandon." "I'm guessing the gay Wolf soldier you're talking about is this Ash?" Alexander said as he went through this Ash profile. White skin and red lips. What a perfect combination! Plus this man had an amazing muscles, abs, and well-built perfectly for him. Not to mention his name is incredibly sexy in his lips. Oh, after five years, he is so going to have so much fun later.

“Are you under attack, Fran?” I was able to mirror his smile. “I think we can say so, yeah.” The waiter brought the bill and Harry handed him a black credit card. “How much? I mean, you need me to hold you, kiss you, just rest a casual hand on the small of your back?” “Grab me by the hand to leave.” “That’s subtle.” Harry chuckled softly. “Breathe, Fran. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Or a Haunter. The Haunter Supreme, to be accurate. I was still seeing him. And he was still staring at me, like wishing oh so bad his eyes were knives.

He camped out beside me with his laptop open, scanning whatever digital records he could access outside the library database. I don’t remember when I drifted off, but when I woke, my joints were stiff and my chest felt like it was lined with rust. Every breath came with a wheeze like an old radiator. I didn’t even realize why I had woken until the burner phone buzzed beside me. I grabbed it and checked the screen. “Alexandra? Everything okay?” His voice crackled through the line. “It’s Ardolf. He’s the Ravager.” That jolted me fully awake. I sat up quickly, the fog in my brain evaporating. “Wait—what? How do you know?”

She guessed he had German or some other husky, tall ancestry too. He wasn’t handsome in any conventional sense, his cheekbones so pronounced they made him appear too harsh. Some might not consider him good-looking but he was quite exotically beautiful. She guessed the bone structure might be caused by whatever genetic altering had been done to him. He looked human but not quite fully so. With his hate-filled glare and the tense jaw, it gave him a snarling appearance, which he actually did the moment Ellie inched closer. The deep growl made her pause, heart pounding, and fear shot through her. He looked intensely masculine and rough, projecting how dangerous he could be. It disturbed her that

"Perhaps we should come back tomorrow. When El is awake so w-" "No. Luca. You will tell me what else you know and you will fucking tell me now," I took steps closer to him and I could see that he was terrified of both me and what I would do to him. Luca Hind, the best fighter in Darkness and bad ass Third in Command, was terrified of me, Blake Jackson, the Alpha's mate. "I think it's for the best if we wait for El. This concerns her too," Luca replied confidently. "If you don't want me to beat the crap out of you right now, then you will tell me what you know and you will tell me now," I told him harshly.