Feral Behavior Novels & Stories

It was already there. ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★ Hello lovely readers, If you're here, that means you not only love supernatural things like I do but you love the act of love too. I'm sure smokin hot alphas make a good selling point for most stories. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for deciding to read my first book, Awakening the Feral! Whatever made you decide to pick it up, I hope the writing has now since convinced you to stay a while.

No logical explanation for why I keep coming back, night after night, to watch over this strange she-wolf who's invaded my territory and, it seems, my thoughts. I pace the small room, my movements silent despite my agitation. My eyes never leave her sleeping form, cataloging every breath, every small movement. Making sure she's safe. Making sure she's real. This is ridiculous. I'm the Feral Alpha. I'm feared across territories. I don't do this... this watching, this protecting. I destroy. I terrify. I don't... care.

And I am trying to avoid punishments. All I have to do is get through this dinner tonight, redecorate the ballroom, and then tomorrow. Then, I am free…hopefully. Dad always told me; wolves are pack animals, and they don’t like being packless. They turn feral when they are without a pack for too long. At the point, I will take being feral over being verbally and physically abused for another day. Dad wouldn’t want me to stay here if he knew the hell I am going through. He would tell me the exact same thing. Leave. Don’t look back.

"He doesn't trust anyone. It's almost as if he's feral." I flinched. Feral. That wasn't a word thrown around lightly. Feral wolves had lost most of their social behaviors—completely retreating into survival instincts. Predators, scavengers... monsters created by pain. "If this continues," the doctor warned, "he'll shift into a wolf... and stay that way forever." "No," I said instantly, voice low. "No, that's not going to happen." "Then keep him away from high-stress situations. Work on building trust with him. Your pheromones should help slow the process."

She touched his hand, "Hey ... relax ... I got this ... you're underestimating my survival skill, like you said ... animal instinct, I think it's embedded in our DNA to find a way to survive when we need it most." He nodded, not the least bit convinced. He didn't want to sound condescending, he chose not to say anything. Her instincts probably have never been exercised and polished since the day she was born. Like any caged animals in the zoo, they would have to re-learn everything once they were back to their natural habitat. Most may not even survive and had to be placed in a sanctuary instead. "Or ..." she looked at him intently. He waited for her next sentence. "You can come with me? I'l

Zannicus blinked rapidly. "Yes," Marcus nodded, "As everyone knows, when a wolf becomes feral usually it's because the wolf lost their mate in a brutal way or lost all sanity due to anger, frustration, hunger, banishment, and the like. But yours can be triggered. At anytime and anywhere." Zannicus stayed quiet and Marcus took that as his cue to continue.

one commented and I frowned. “Why are they scared of her?” Roy asked softly to one of his friends and I must say, I don’t know either. “She is known as the Feral in our world,” a rogue close by and we all looked at him. “What does her nickname have anything to do with you all fearing her?” Roy asked and he is sounding like all the other males that is underestimating her. “She is known as teh Feral because no one can control her. She is wild both in bed and in a fight. She has no rules adn can stand on her own. She has no equal. She is deadly with her weapons,” another spoke on the opposite cell.

They want blood. War is looking more and more lucky as the rogue pack makes demands. They want land. They insist if we give them land they will leave us alone, but that’s too simple. These rogues making up this mishap pack are filled with feral wolves ready to kill without mercy. Feral wolves are dangerous. They don’t ever come out of wolf form. They have no humanity. I watched the video where that feral rogue tore apart Cheryl. She had a painful death.

Eldrick answers, “you’re gonna need to earn it.” Clay turns until his head is in profile, and if I did not see it myself, I would not think such a perfectly empty face could communicate such unmistakable contempt. Eldrick goes on, unaffected. “Last full moon, the Hunters trapped themselves a feral out by the bogs. We’ve been keeping him on ice for a special occasion. I figure if you can take him out, Killian Kelly should be no problem for you, eh?” No. No one goes against a feral alone. Even Hunters go after them as a pack, and they take nets and knives and iron pipes. Ferals are infected, stuck between man and wolf, stronger than both, driven by madness and rage at Fate.

I asked the three in front of me. One's a gray wolf, and the other two are brown. The gray one growled and bared their teeth and I knew right then and there that the wolves in front of me are feral wolves. Wolves that went insane and couldn't control their wolves anymore and went feral. They have no sense of humanity left in them anymore and they will kill and hunt for food, which in this case is us. And there is no chance of talking to them.