Karl Jacobs Novels & Stories

“The first time I saw him... I recognized him.” The words hung in the air like a thunderclap. I stiffened, my grip tightening involuntarily. Esmarie shot me a questioning glance, her brows furrowed. “Recognized him?” she repeated, her voice sharp. “How? From where?” Jacobs swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “The barn,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “The people who brought you there… they had a common goal. They wanted to break wolves, mindbreak them, until they were nothing but tools. Wolves who would follow orders without question. They wanted to take down the top three packs ruling the regions. I... I was a doctor to one of them.”

Everyone was looking at him. "Look, it's Mr. Karl! He's here!" "Shh, be quiet!" Everyone was cautious, not daring to make a sound. They all knew how Karl was. He was really capable of murder when he was angry. No one wanted to offend such a madman. Karl seemed to enjoy the fear emanating from his audience. He picked up the microphone and said loudly, "Hello everyone, I'm Karl Jackel. I'm honored to have all of you here at my party. Before we begin, I would like to say a few words.

It’s in that text again. Karl’s a witch on loan to help get through some of the older documents, because no one in the area wanted any of this except a small group of deluded fools. Karl specialized in many of the older languages and could read whatever this was with relative ease. “Let’s me finish up with this one and then I’ll try to tackle that one. I think I’m beginning to see double. Perhaps I should take a break.”

“ Karl Walker, huh? Fancy hearing that name here,” muttered Logan as he turned to look at the tall building behind him, he turned to look at Jacob whose expression was slightly solemn and said, “ What are the chances that man will open the door if I was to knock?” “Truthfully speaking none,” replied Jacob because this Karl whom the fishermen were talking about was none other than the ex-beta of the Misset pack. He was thrown out to become a rogue by his alpha once his plans to take Logan down came down to nought.

Why did it have to be Karl? Karl, a Gamma warrior wolf who's famous for being observant, who never misses a single detail! I run my hand through my hair, my body trembling as I continue cursing under my breath. Karl is Lucy's mate. The shock from that hits me like a slap to the face. Big, strong Karl is little, shy Lucy's mate. And I didn't know! I didn't even think to ever imagine that Lucy would have a mate, or that her mate would be someone like Karl.

THE employee lounge felt smaller than usual as Orlanda, Winifred, and Flourish continued their conversation. The buzz of the mall outside seemed distant, almost muted, as they processed the revelation about Carlson, Carlson Jacobi. “His full name is Carlson Jacobi”, Flourish came again.

Karl’s head jerked up, his body going rigid as his senses kicked into overdrive. “Rogues,” he muttered. Lucy’s pulse quickened. “How many?” “Too many,” he said grimly, his eyes scanning the trees. “Stay behind me.” The first rogue burst through the underbrush, its snarl feral and vicious. Karl moved in a blur, shifting mid-stride. His wolf was massive, dark as night, and terrifyingly efficient. He collided with the rogue, claws and teeth tearing into fur and flesh.

If Caraline was forced to describe it, the man named Jacob was like an angel with broken wings, conveying awe, pity, and cursing at the same time. Honestly, among the three men Caraline had met earlier in the house, Jacob's good looks were on a whole other level. Jacob had sea-blue eyes, a piercing gaze, a firm jaw, thick arched eyebrows, and pink lips. The cheap clothes the man wore didn't stop anyone from saying he was charming.

Ava gratefully accepted the cool water, exhaling in relief as it calmed her heated skin. "Ludovic was just like him in that regard, you know. Brash. Impulsive. Utterly uncouth. Clearly it's a part of the Wolfenbarger inheritance," Ava mentioned between sips. Karl laughed, and a boyish dimple formed in his left cheek. He really was a handsome man, with his intelligent pale eyes and long, sinewy form. She found it odd that he'd never married. She purred in delight when, wordlessly again, Karl reached down and removed her heeled shoes, pulling her feet by her ankles into his lap.

He looked like a man who belonged in an ad for an expensive watch and had somehow chosen instead to escort two small children racing scooters through a quiet Oregon neighborhood. “I’m still saying it,” he said, watching Issa sparkle under the streetlights, “she dresses better than most adults I know in Munich.” I glanced at him. “Your standards need to be reviewed.” Karl looked at me for a second. A small smile appeared. “My standards are very high. Just look at who I’ve kept around for years.” I let out a soft snort. “Oh, please. You studied engineering. Half your life was spent in rooms full of men who smelled like stress and failed deodorant. Of course I looked like a Nobel Prize.”