Gregor The Overlander Novels & Stories

However, werewolves and lycans both shift at the age of eighteen. There is one main issue with werewolves that my parents made sure I understood from a young age. Werewolves that live in packs absolutely detest rogue wolves. I do not blame them. There is good reasoning for hating rogues. Rogues usually go insane from the solitude and, more often than not, end up attacking and killing innocent wolves. The group of wolves that killed my parents were rogues. Since then, I have made a habit of going rogue hunting. I take a break from my work and hunt down and kill rogues that have gone insane.

' Go see to it then and give me a report when you are back . I rose from the chair and walked briskly out of his office . Alastair was already waiting outside . He pulled me and we went into my office together . ' It is an Epsilon . It is in the pack and it is not taking any time to move around . ' he said immediately we entered the office . ' What ? ' I replied surprised . Everyone knew it was rare for an Epsilon to turn up in the pack . An Epsilon is a werewolf whom sorrow has allowed the wolf instincts to supercede the human mind and it was infectious .

The other one who had an overgrown mustache like he was from London was still gazing at me with lots of curiosity, and it was starting to get disturbing. " Can we skip to the part where you test my blood? I have to watch a movie" I said agitated. I was already feeling mutant-y and a bonding session with two doctors wasn't exactly on top of my list at the moment. " I apologize for that, he's always that way" my dad jumped in and apologized respectfully. Mustache man who didn't appear annoyed by my demeanor waved his arm dismissively. " We won't take much if your time" he said whilst taking out a syringe and a small-sized glass tube, the kind we use in science labs. He also took out a glass bo

almost unreachable. It was foolish to think he was beyond such human struggles as nightmares when I consider everything he went through with Arlo. The image of him that Gregor painted for me was still competing with the real one, and the combination blended into confusing fragments. Someone supposedly cruel and emotionless having nightmares, risking his life to save me, and mourning the death of a companion... "Same," I eventually said. I expected him to ask. But he didn't. We just sat there, both looking at the crackling flames. For some reason, even with people staring at me and calling me a goddess, only sitting with this man who barely tolerated me gave me a little peace of mind.

Gregor said. “Well, I don’t know about rogue. If you’re talking about Elowen, then you’re too late. I’ve claimed her as mine, she’s my Luna now. You know what that means don’t you?” I saw the look on Gregor’s face change immediately. “What?!” His son yelled in disbelief. “How the hell’s that possible?!” “There’s no way that you’d do that Kael, she belongs to my pack” Gregor said in disbelief.

“Accurate.” I keep my focus on him. “Marre,” I say. “Where is he?” Gregor looks up. “Upstairs. He’s aware something is happening. He will not run. He never does. He will wait. He believes he can negotiate his way out.” “He can’t,” I say. “He won’t believe that,” Gregor replies. “That is his strength and his weakness.” A pause. “I tried to slow the retrieval from inside,” he adds. “I redirected what I could. Delayed detection.”

His hair was matted, dark, reaching past his shoulders; his jaw sharp enough to cut; his eyes— those eyes— Red as smoldering coals. Alive. Thinking. Starving. He didn’t look feral. He looked aware— the most dangerous form of monster. His soldiers fled the moment he lifted a hand and the den emptied until it was only him and me. Slowly, Gregon turned. Recognition hit his face like a slow, wicked grin. “So,” he murmured, approaching with the patience of a predator who knows his prey cannot run, “you’re awake again.”

Ravenna Rogues. Werewolves who have been abandoned by their pack or vice versa. Many of them tend to go crazy as they're without a pack nor are they with their leaders. Targets for mercenaries and bounty hunters. The life of a rogue was ruthless. There were only a handful of rogues that were able to survive and withstand a lot of psychological trauma that tend to drive them crazy, an example was Karina's boyfriend, Konnor, but the rest of them went absolutely insane to the point they lost all signs of themselves, turning into beasts. Those were the kind I was facing right now.

"He isn't just a werewolf. He is a Lycan, and not just any Lycan! The Lycan prince... My jaw dropped and my eyes dilated in shock at what I just heard the driver say. Cold chills ran all through my skin, goosebumps shooting up as I sprung from the car seat, where I had been instinctively without knowing when. I didn't know why I jumped. I just couldn't tell why, but the mention of the Lycan prince being the one stopping them from taking me to the den of those ruthless demons sparked something unimaginable inside me as I gasped and gaped in shock.

She leaned back on the backrest and sighed at the view of the teardrop-silver colour lake; shaped like a perfectly flat metal disc. No sounds rang out from the shimmering emptiness of space in front of them. Even the huffing wind was too lazy to scatter the a-flame quilt of warm earthy leaves spread out around the tree's base in the small clearing. They sat in silence, drinking in the scenery, calming their senses and enjoying each other's company. "Have you ever heard of the Moonfall pack?" Minnow asked after much consideration. "Hm, yeah, it's a small town up in the mountains. Why do you ask?"