Loose Collector Werewolf Novels & Stories

Marcus noted, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "He is," a voice interrupted them. Pascal and Marcus turned to see the leader of the rogue pack that had abducted Pascal. "How long were you planning on hiding in there?" Pascal asked coldly. The rogue pack leader sneered. "Not necessarily hiding. I was simply waiting for your friend. You're a werewolf?" he asked, surprised. "Of course he is. Are your senses so corrupted that you couldn't tell? Oh, wait, I forgot, you're just a rogue werewolf. Your senses are as bad as your reputation," Marcus chimed in.

The healer that he had been following all the while had vanished into the thin air without any trace of being found. " No way. " He said. " She entered here. I am certain of that. " Vieira began to flash his eyes through the darkness of the night . But his sight was not good enough to see anyone. Then, he turned his eyes to his normal werewolf form. With those eyes that now glowed, he scanned the trees and the bushes for the slightest sign of a figure that looked like her. But there was no one there. He took out time to practice his smelling ability again. Perhaps, he was the one that hit it entirely wrong initially. That was definitely the reason for him not to have caught a glimpse of her

In a palace deep in the jungle in Oklahoma, lived a large clan of werewolves. The king of the palace is Joe Allan Anderson, who has a wife and two children, a boy and a girl. The whole clan lived apart from humans. Joe loves his wife and children very much. Life is peaceful and warm. Joe's eldest son, Jake Allan Anderson, is a smart, energetic, mischievous kid. Later, Jake will inherit the werewolf family. Although living separately from humans, Jake is always curious about how people's lives are? So one day, he went to the human realm alone.

“That’s what Aion told me on the phone. He said that in the room, there was human blood, presumably from Winter.” “Then, the rogue wolf is back,” he said glumly, “they came to finish what they started. They must have taken Winter thinking that it was Nora. Rogue Wolfs are often not sound individuals. They are the product of what happens when werewolves are alone, and they abandon their pack. Either because they’re banished from the pack for something unforgivable, they’ve done, or because they refuse to serve their alpha. When that happens, their wolf becomes confused because they have no purpose. It’s harder for them to shift. They lose any sense of humanity that they might have. Often, all

“It’s a piece of jewelry. It could belong to anyone.” Edrick’s eyes narrowed, his gaze cutting to me as if seeing right through me. “Could it?” I shrugged, leaning back in my chair like the locket meant nothing to me. “Rogues often loot caravans and villages. There’s no telling where that came from or what it means.” Edrick, however, didn’t look convinced. His eyes lingered on me for a moment longer before he turned back to Caleb. “The point is, I believe that the Werewolves are not just playing games. They are escalating. And they may be using whatever leverage they can get.”

“Unfortunately, there was barely anything useful in it. Mostly details about their obsession with collecting Outworlder artifacts such as strands of witches’ hair, vampire fangs, lycan bones, ancient silver arrows and bullets, even preserved ghoul corpses.” Wesley made a face. “That just sounded like River’s collection,” he noted dryly. I rolled my eyes. “Believe it or not, I actually acquire my macabre collection with the other party’s consent. But with this Mollagoshit, I have no idea how they can acquire these things, especially when they’re humans. I can only guess… maybe, they have a connection within the Outworld,” I spat and shot Mason another sharp look. Mason crossed his arms, his e

Even the council elders had never seen anything like this; their stunned expressions matched mine and Father’s. Stepmother’s jaw was also hanging wide. More werewolves gathered around us, and the murmurs spread like wildfire. “Who is this guy? I’ve never heard of an Omega like him in the Alliance.” “I heard he migrated from the Southern Wastelands.” “The Wastelands? That barren dump?” “Who cares? Miss Elara sure lucked out. Even some Golden Lycans can’t afford a display like this.”

“I know literally nothing.” Loren sat back on my bed and crossed her legs like I used to in preschool. She clapped her hands together. “Okay. Werewolf 101 in fifteen minutes,” she said. “Basics are this: alphas have gold eyes. Betas, those second in line for the position of alpha, have purple eyes. Just like me!” I nodded. I was following. Loren continued.

Leslie groaned awake as Tara and Zak dragged a table across the shattered window and braced it with chairs. “Tom? You can’t be out of bed,” Leslie said, pushing up on her elbows. “Jakey, what’s happening? What are those animals?” “Werewolves,” Jake said, eyes not leaving the hall. “They’re real.” Tara peeled a slat of the front blinds. “They’re everywhere,” she whispered. “Sniffing. Hunting.” Zak joined her, jaw tight. “Can we make the car?” She checked—froze. “They’re ripping the W.R.X. to pieces.”

The rest stream out of the ground floor entrance, wearing all the armor and carrying all the weapons the tree house had available in its extensive storage. The first thing to do is capture Malcolm, which isn’t difficult. Wearing the partner pieces of the jewelry that gives us control over Coello, Jasper and Zach make a beeline for him. Thinking that he cannot be defeated, Malcolm stands his ground, but quickly crumbles under the onslaught of the binding spell’s effects. They hand him off to a few other men and a baffled looking Malcolm is dragged away, leaving the Flagstaff werewolves leaderless for the remainder of the battle.