Jules Hedgehog Novels & Stories

I just gave her some time to stop laughing, as finally the doors of the elevator opened and I stepped inside, pushing the button and hoping the doors would close before anyone else would be able to step inside with me. “Are you serious right now, Jenna? Did your uncle suddenly decide to infuse some Harry Potter drama into your life? Who on earth is ‘he who shall not be named’? Is he a secret wizard or a mythical creature?” Jules asked me, clearly crunching on something now. “What the hell are you eating?” I asked her out loud, sighing in relief as the doors closed and nobody else had stepped into the elevator with me. “Froot loops.” She stated matter-of-factly.

Fatima stepped away from the kitchen bench and Meguitte slipped off her stool as Sigrid went to follow, so that the three of them stepped out into the hallway, leaving the men to talk amongst themselves. “Jules is not… quite himself,” Fatima said barely audibly. “He was hiding under a broken cot, and didn’t seem to know Harry at first… He knew him as his mate, but did not, if that makes sense. He was not afraid and trusted Harry, but I don’t think he knew Harry’s name. Or his own for that matter. I don’t know how bad it is, but Harry… Harry was both elated and grieving.” “I understand,” Sigrid replied just as quietly. “Do you think that Jules is a zombie? Was there any possible exposure to a

Wounded animals were dangerous and unpredictable; that much Jules knew. Jules looked around until he found a bottle of blood stancher. Clicking his tongue in disgust—why wouldn’t his uncle’s people use it on the Xeus when they had it right there?—Jules grabbed it and headed back to the alpha. He hesitated, meeting the hostile gaze. He was soft-heartened, not suicidal. “I don’t mean you any harm,” he said, keeping his voice as non-threatening as possible. “Will you let me treat your wounds? That gash on your arm looks nasty.”

However, just as we were about to part, a voice filled with hatred rang out behind him. “Die! If I can’t live, neither can you!” Nate’s eyes widened as his body jerked, and he slowly slid to the ground. Behind him stood a disheveled, wild-haired Jules, who had plunged a silver dagger deep into his back. She was a mess, her clothes torn and filthy. It was obvious she’d been living rough these past days. “Because of you, I’ve been cast out of the pack and hunted by rogue werewolves every day. If I’m suffering, why should you live a good life?” Jules screamed, driving the dagger in and pulling it out of Nate’s body again and again.

Bridget Matthews It was a lilac dress with spaghetti straps, one that clung to my body except for the thigh high slit running up the left leg, and below the dress……I laughed “what do you know? There’s a cloak in here” fur lined and …….a deep purple. I made a quick work of putting it on, curling my hair, I didn’t bother with make-up. At least I’ll look colorful.

I nodded miserably. "Okay," Jules said, her expression turning from angry to mission-ready in a split second. "Get your shoes on. We have an hour before the donation center closes, and I am not letting some random person in this town hear how much you like my brother’s 'stupid dimples.' We’re going on a heist."

Harley yelled, running out of the room. Jules quickly freshens up, putting on black jeans, a white crop top, and white Snickers to go. She also packed her hair in a messy bun, and apply lip gloss, before making her way downstairs. Eight pairs of eyes stared at her immediately she came into view. "Good morning everyone," she let out, casting a curious glance around for any sign of Hero. When she didn't see him, she was happy and prayed that he already left for work. However, her prayer was not answered, as an angry Hero walked downstairs, casting her a hateful glare before walking past her to meet the other at the dining table.

Jules roared. The bullets struck—and yet, they all bounced away once more. But Jules himself had become something unnatural. In an instant, his body stretched upward by nearly a meter, his head nearly scraping the ceiling. His arms, legs, and torso elongated in tandem. His clothes shredded instantly, yet what was revealed was not erotic, nor grotesque—it was… utterly bizarre.

He just stood there, staring at the both of them. Seleen just stared at them with confusion plastered across her. She probably didn’t recognize Jules, especially when the guy was in a disguise for people not to recognize him that easily, but even when he had that silly disguise, he still recognized him. How couldn’t he? His eyes were the bluest pair that he had ever seen, and they were also about the same height. No matter how he'd try dressing up, he'd always know that it was him in less than a second.

I reached over Mom to poke Jules in the arm again. "Stop poking me! Mom! The gargoyle is touching me!" Jules squealed, trying to hide behind Mom's shoulder. "I’ll gargoyle you in a second!" I huffed, reaching for a pillow, "Jewel sound like a cat that belongs to a rich old lady. 'Come here, Jewel, time for your expensive tuna!'" "It’s better than Gianna," Jules stuck her tongue out, "Gianna sounds like a librarian who only eats plain crackers."