Gideon Werewolf Book Novels & Stories

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

We channeled the combined energy into the book. The pages began to turn on their own, not to the Symphony of Silence, but to a section near the very back I hadn’t seen—pages that felt older, their vellum brittle. Script flared to life, not the elegant Weaver language, but a harsh, angular script that looked carved by claws. The language of the ancient wolf councils. As we focused, the ribbon in my hand grew warm. A vision began to form, not in my mind’s eye, but in the air above the grimoire, woven from silver light and shadow.

It was the first time, in all my years in the werewolf world, that I completely broke. But the Witch's eyes held nothing but helplessness. She gently pried my hands away and led me into a small, dim room. In the center sat a grimoire. Its pages recorded the coming fall of my pack. "I can't help you." The light in my eyes died. "Why?" "Even if I save you now, the next crisis will be worse. More death. More destruction. This isn't fate — it's a curse." I didn't understand. We had won. We had beaten fate. Why was this happening?

“I just want to go back home. Ok, I’ve found what I’m looking for – Danshak a.k.a Devon is my fated mate, he wasn’t lying about that. The painting in his gallery is his memory of meeting me a.k.a Edvana, here. What else did I miss?” Did Nikjin eventually win this war and become the supreme leader of the werewolves? Oh well, she didn’t have the answer to that question because until coming here, she had never heard of anyone named Nikjin Whitehound. Only Vak Smallchief is known as their original werewolf ancestor, so where does that leave Nikjin the villain? Does that mean that he did not succeed in overthrowing Vak, or why else was he never mentioned as part of their werewolf ancestors? Did V

As we walked, the soft thud of our footsteps echoed through the solemn space. Jeremiah, a wise and weathered wolf with a graying muzzle, carried an ancient book in his hands. Its leather cover was worn, its pages yellowed with age. We reached a magnificent wooden table, carved with the same designs, and Jeremiah gently placed the book upon it. "Lyra," he began, his voice deep and resonant, "this book holds the secrets of our pack's legacy, and within its pages lies the tale of the Silver Werewolf." My curiosity piqued, I leaned in closer, my eyes fixed on the book. "Tell me, Jeremiah," I said, my voice filled with anticipation. "What is the story of the Silver Werewolf?"

**POV Alpha King Gideon** I woke up nervous in the middle of the night. The room was dimly lit by lightning, and the sound of thunder echoed through my room. My wolf, Ragnar, was restless, eager to go out again in the middle of the night in search of his mate. Controlling him was becoming increasingly difficult; the strength of the bond was too strong, and I had never desired someone so intensely. I had never wanted so badly to bury myself in someone and possess them for myself, and something told me that the person I was looking for was not Cassandra Connery.

Megaara walked over to his with a glass of water and joined him by leaning against the wall to stare at the busy stage. He knew what she said was true, but he also knew this was her attempt at making him feel better about himself. This simple book alone was responsible for the horrible life he had. The book that made his pack detest him and abandon him. The book that made him 'abnormal'. An 'abomination' to the werewolf community. Looking back toward the stage he finds the elders reciting verses off the said book in ancient wolvish, stretching out their hands at Hades who sat on a throne at the perfect center under the pale circle of light emitted by the vibrant full moon.

The warning passed long ago. Sebastian’s face went white as Gideon began to stalk toward him, but he held his ground. “Gideon. I know you have no reason to trust me right now, but I swear, I’m trying to help—” “I said leave.” Gideon’s eyes were glassy and dark. Not yellow the way they went when his wolf was close, but something far more dangerous. Behind him, the witch folded her arms and smiled, watching him like one might watch a live chess piece move across the board in a final move.

"What toy? Did you bring it home?" "No way," Mia pouted in disgust. "It was a fluffy little wolf plushie. Super childish. I'm a big kid now, I don't want that stuff." "Plus," she added seriously, "I won't interact with an Alpha who isn't my dad. My teachers said pups shouldn't take gifts from strangers." Hearing that, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. Three days later, the supernatural authorities stepped in. They deported Gideon for illegally stalking a minor werewolf.

The air seemed to change, and then the window burst, glass raining as three lean wolves with ember eyes barged in. “Vellex filth!” the bigger one snarled, trying to leap on Gideon’s bed. I lunged, my wolf exploding, claws raking his side, splattering blood against the wall. My heart thumped, Gideon the only ground I had to hold on to. The second one swiped, raking claws across my shoulder, pain exploding like fire, but I plowed straight into him, jaws clamping shut on his forearm with a loud snap of bone. There was movement, Gideon’s voice a weak whisper, “Run, Winifred!” I snarled, diving into the third scout, teeth snapping onto his throat, his gasp dying in his throat as I closed his wind