French Werewolf Movie Novels & Stories

His golden eyes locked onto the men, a silent promise of death. "Look at him," another man mocked, stepping closer. "Protecting a territory he’s too weak to hold. Ronan is coming, Zayden. And when he does, he’ll take your crown—and your little pet." The black wolf exploded into motion. He didn't kill them; he was too fast for that. He moved like a shadow, knocking the men back with the sheer force of his weight, his teeth snapping inches from their throats until they scrambled backward into the trees, disappearing into the darkness.

Her body is more lean and thin, but I wouldn’t underestimate her. Not only was the dinner situation unexpected, but my wolf paced restlessly in my mind. Alora, my beautiful reddish-brown furred wolf, mumbled under her breath constantly. She mentioned mates but then acted confused and said they weren’t mates. I definitely felt a pull to both of the strangers, but it was weak. I agree with Alora’s confusion. The guy was a vampire and the woman smelled like a human yet not, code for witch in my senses. There is no way I could been mated to either one of them, never mind both!

A powerful snarl rumbled from his chest. He had transformed. A werewolf. And then he spoke, his voice low and commanding. “I am the King of the Moonbound Werewolves. Eryx Bloodban.” he said. And that’s when everything went black.

The music played with deep bass and Fenna started talking in a deep voice, “Once werewolves lived in packs of thousands. They were superior beings loved by all. But with great beauty comes jealousy. The human race got jealous of the werewolf’s majestic appearance and the unity that lived among them. A war broke out and our numbers rapidly decreased. The moon goddess was determined to not let her creation go extinct, so she made a werewolf greater than the gods themselves. A werewolf mighty and pure of heart. Her revenge rained down on earth in the form of a massive red wolf with eyes like a raging fire. Agnitus was born. Agnitus saved the werewolves, burning anything or anyone who dared to s

They had been givin a bad reputation of being murderous beast, thanks to the humans who told such horrible lies. These werewolves were the descendants of the moon. A better way of explaining it would be that the moon was their own version of God. She was the one who created the werewolf breed herself. She was or is the Moon Goddess. It was said that she gave them a very special gift, the ability to feel or sense who their true mate is. Its called the mate bond which is avery strong feeling that either one would beable to feel when they are close to one another. Like what a soul mate would be for humans. The wolf people had many tribes or packs, as they were called. Each pack would have a mal

he said. The gathered werewolves cheered in happiness, with some of them howling excitedly. “Ok, ok, let me finish.” He said, stopping their cheering. “This celebration is restricted to the members of this pack only and there will be lots of venison and drinks for everyone, so leave whatever you're doing and come to my mansion.” He concluded with both hands outstretched. The werewolves howled again as Alpha Tristan turned around and left with Adriana by his side and Maxion behind him.

A bruise was already blooming along her cheekbone where Lira’s fist had grazed her. He took her injured arm in careful hands. “Hold still.” He leaned in and, without warning, licked the wounds. Elara gasped. The contact was warm, wet, strangely intimate. She felt the faint rasp of his tongue, then something else, warmth spreading, tingling, numbing the worst of the pain. “What are you...” “Werewolf saliva,” he murmured against her skin. “Heals faster than anything human. Especially for mates.” He continued, slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue along each cut. The bleeding slowed. The edges began to knit together before her eyes.

Turning to Giovanni, Isabella mustered the courage to pose her question once more, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "Giovanni, did I... Did I just have intimate relations with a wild creature, with a wolf, and not a human?" Giovanni's gaze softened as he met Isabella's fearful eyes. After a brief pause, he nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth. "Yes, Isabella. The creature you encountered, the one we shared that intimate connection with, was indeed a werewolf."

His fear for the Frenchman was much stronger than his lust for me. “What were you thinking, cochon? That you would get a handful of wolf pussy?” he slapped the guard on the back of his head. “She can take your whole arm off and shove it up your arsehole. Stay away from the she-wolves.” The Frenchman kicked the guard on his backside and the man fell to his knees and apologized. “And you!” he pointed at me. “Try that again and I will slit your offspring’s throats one by one.” That did it. The she-wolf ripped through my skin and within the blink of an eye she shook her silver fur and growled menacingly, hackles up and lips drawn back to reveal fangs dripping with saliva.

She sings it, loud and clear this time. ‘In days of yore, when France was young, there lived beings, strange and unsung, when human kings did rule and sway, ancient French werewolves, fierce and gray.’ ‘Their claws were sharp, their eyes were bright, their howls did echo through the night, they roamed the forests, wild and free, their power feared, their magic deadly.’ ‘With full moon rising, they would change, their bodies twisting, altered strange, their fur would grow, their teeth would gleam, their beasts within, would roam and dream.’