Grim Reaper Dog Novels & Stories

Then mutated golden retrievers, German shepherds, and Rottweilers. They poured onto the rooftop from every direction like a black tide. None of them came for me. They rushed right past me and lunged straight at the zombies. Tearing. Ripping. Slaughtering. Under the fangs of those mutated dogs, the zombies didn’t stand a chance. Rotting flesh flew everywhere. In just a few minutes, the rooftop was completely cleared. The dogs parted, opening a path down the middle. Duke stood there, right in the center, then turned back to look at me.

I tilted my head towards the ground to see the beautiful medium sized dog I think it’s a German Shepard shortly after mt head was lifted gently so the doctor could continue to treat the gash on my forehead. I reached out a hand blindly towards the dog in an effort to finally pat it. Wait why isn’t Tristan back yet?

Griogair gripped his dirk, wishing he had opted to ready his bow and arrow instead, but knowing it was too late to try. He’d have to hope for the best against the massive dog with nothing but his hands and a wee dirk. Just as the animal was about to crash through the bush directly in front of him a hare leaped from underneath it in a mad dash for its life. When the dog’s eyes and angle of attack shifted to follow the prey, Gair let loose with his dirk and it embedded in the hare’s neck, pinning the animal to the ground. The dog snarled but picked up the twitching hare. It looked towards the men, then at Gair and back again before finally deciding to take its catch to its master, as the beast

Then I stopped cold. There in the clearing. Jimmie. On the ground. Bruised and bleeding. Fara—her ginger wolf form snarling had Nadia pinned to the dirt- Nadia’s black wolf. The bitch herself. But that wasn’t what stole my breath. What sent the world spinning— The Reaper. That midnight-colored wolf. Eyes red as wildfire— a rogue with teeth bared about to pounce on my mate. My body moved on instinct. I leapt. Teeth out. Rage pulsing like blood in my mouth.

It was a wooden scythe with a u-shaped moon. He’s a– “Grim reaper,” I mumbled. “You’re a grim reaper?” With wide eyes, I took two steps backward. “I sure am.” He grinned more seeing my reaction. I looked at him from head to toe. “You don’t look like one though. Grim reapers usually blend in with the mormians making it easy for them to catch evil spirits.” He gave me a stern look. “It’s because I’m born to stand out.” He stared back to the road and put his hands in his pockets. “Besides, no evil spirit can escape Grip,” he boastfully added.

It was a brilliant but evil solution, and Zen was very thankful he managed to convince Damian to join their party before someone else got to him. The farm dog considered running away, but Damian was faster. He grabbed hold of the dog by the neck and cast a binding spell that acted like a leash. Terrified, the flea-bitten animal whimpered and got to work quickly, sniffing at the ground and pawing at spots that Zen should be digging up. With Damian’s help as an animal retainer, they managed to clear half of the Groundsweeper side quest without issues. After collecting five truffles, Zen noticed the dog was becoming immune to Damian’s threat.

Aunt Torres replied with a sheepish smile. Serena’s heart tightened with guilt. Rex had been confined for days because of Alexander. She couldn't let the poor dog suffer any longer. Determined to make it up to him, she walked to the back room where Rex was kept. The moment she neared the door, pitiful whines reached her ears. Her heart ached at the sound. "Rex," she called softly, and the dog’s cries grew louder with excitement. The door creaked open, and Rex—a spirited German Shepherd—bounded toward her, his tail wagging furiously. Serena knelt to embrace him, laughing as he showered her face with wet kisses.

I try to breathe, but my rib cage feels crushed inward, my vision dissolving into a blur of gray spots and spinning green needles. Through the haze, I see the creature. It is an enormous brown Reaper, its jaw wide open as strings of blue saliva drip from its fangs. Its eyes are completely bloodshot, filled with pure hatred as it focuses entirely on me, its claws digging into the mud as it prepares to charge again. Then, a dark blur shoots across my vision like a cannonball. A terrifying roar breaks from his throat as Damon’s human form completely dissolves mid-air, his body shifting with a violent surge of silver light until a huge, midnight-black wolf slams directly into the Reaper’s side.

The heat radiating from him was intense, completely enveloping me, smelling of rich cedarwood, clean linen, and the sharp, smoky trace of expensive scotch. ‘​I’m dreaming,’ I thought, the liquor swirling lazily in my brain, turning my consciousness into a slow-moving fog. ‘Yeah, definitely dreaming. The alcohol finally melted my gray matter.’ ​There was absolutely no logical way the Mad Dog of the Underworld—the cold, ruthless beast who ran this city from the shadows—was carrying a disheveled, barefoot woman down his private hallway like a fragile piece of porcelain. In my past life, men like Lucien Giovanni didn't carry people; they had them dragged away, discarded, or buried.

The sound of his boots faded down the hall. I pressed my back against the wall and slid to the floor. My body was still shaking. Not from fear. Or not only from fear. When his teeth had grazed my mark, something inside me had ignited. A heat that started at my neck and poured down through my chest, my stomach, my thighs. My skin had tightened. My breath had caught. And for one terrible, honest second, I had wanted him closer. The Reaper. The man who’d killed his own family. The man who collected territories like other men collected debts.