Legendary Hunter Novels & Stories

Alpha Romulo also told us he knew that Hunter Grey was notorious for hunting werewolves for the past decade, and it was common knowledge that he had his own laboratory. According to my research, Hunter's lab had created a powerful serum they mixed in the silver bullets and other deadly weapons used to immobilize werewolves until they could be captured. My gut feeling told me that those same drugs were used on killing Penelope. Aiden and I set out on our journey on the next list to find Hunter's whereabouts. Our search took us through the country roads of suburban towns, chasing leads and tracking down every possible clue. We already spent another four hours traveling across rugged terrain an

“And she is the reason you’ll never reach me.” “I just knew it would be hard to get to you.” Dead silence followed. For many minutes, things were still, and the Lycan refused to let me see what was happening. “Fire!” Following that, gunshots sparked, chaos ensued, and ironically, I became afraid for the Lycan whose agile legs floated us out of the area while the swoosh of his swinging sword accompanied us.

"Another one..." Kael didn't take his eyes off the creature. Fire flared up his arms, licking his skin, casting them both in an infernal glow. "A Hunter," he said. "An old world relic. They are going to keep coming until we die. Or I kill the one controlling them..." The Hunter stepped fully into the ruin, each movement boneles, silent. Shadows silthered from its body, reaching for them like tendrils. The air dropped in temperature, and Aria's breath frosted before her lips.

She just needed to get through this and then life would go on as normal. “I am also lycan,” she whispered out. “You all knew my father – Russell Heron. He was a great blacksmith.” There is murmuring of agreement. Most the Lycans constantly got their armory repaired by him. “And all of you I suspect are familiar with the Archer Legacy. The legendary Archer bloodline that was chosen has to slay the vampiress--”

Hunter climbed off the couch and stood, grabbing his briefs that were tangled with his trousers before pulling them back on. The phone was still ringing. He glanced around the living room until he finally spotted it lying half out of his discarded pants pocket. It must have slipped out sometime during the night. The screen continued flashing. Hunter picked it up, expecting to silence an alarm. Instead, he frowned. It wasn't an alarm. It was a call. Dean Mercer flashed his phone screen, and Hunter groaned. Dean was the Titans' superstar winger. The boys often called him the Legendary Ladies' Man or the Wolf Who Hunted Prey.

Dax After four hours of staring at my ceiling without being able to fall asleep, I finally give up. So here I am at the gym before the sun's even thinking about showing its face, beating the heavy bag like it owes me an apology, and my wolf won't shut the fuck up. Tell him, he says. Again. For approximately the nine hundredth time. Tell the hunter what we know. Then claim him and keep him. Right. Brilliant. Walk up to Noah Hunter, a man who has spent his whole life believing werewolves are vicious monsters, and announce that somebody out there is deliberately biting people to make more of us.

I breathed hard, dragging my body up as I crawled forward on all fours like a fucking dog. I didn't stop, didn't even look back, not even when the air around me stiffened. Not even when the animals went quiet and the trees froze as though they had held their breath. Because deep down, I already knew what this meant. Growing up, I heard stories, rumours by the other slaves about the Hunter's Territory. No one dared to cross last this line, not even Alpha's or Betas and especially, not Omegas like myself. This land belonged to someone or something more deadly and mysterious.

and dove to the ground. A hunter entered the area with a lethal crossbow in his hands and a hood covering his face. The weapon was engraved with Damon's emblem, a jagged claw. With a snarl, Aiden sprang forward, his wolf emerging. Aiden was quicker than the hunter, pushing the weapon aside and slamming the assailant to the ground as he fired another bolt.

Even the archives that are only kept in the royal castle do not have anything about it. Was my father playing a game with me? The only thing that I found in common was the S.Z.A initials from a very old book about the knights and heroes of the kingdom after a bloody war with the hunters fifty years ago. Hunters are humans who despise Lycans and werewolves. They were the remaining blood of the humans that used to be enemies with us.

One could dream about being one of them, but if he didn’t possess the birthmark on his nape in one of the three categories of their kind, there was no way he’d qualify - let alone welcomed - to be a professional hunter. There were one of three types a hunter could be born into: first, the archers - even though no hunter used bows and arrows nowadays - also known as the defenders, those who were said to be the best in combat and anything involving physical attacks or defenses; the second, the octopuses - the brains on strategy and tactics not solely in battles and wars, but also in mediating between species; the final group is the chameleons or - put simply - undercover agents, which was what