Loup Garou の小説・ストーリー

If that was an attempt by the previous owner to make him look a little more presentable, sellable, then it missed the mark by a mile. “First up we have Werewolf number N17M115. A rare wolf from the Northern Mountains. Born in the wild, this fighter wolf has his instincts intact. Captured when he was 5, he was trained from a young age and has been fighting ever since hitting puberty. He has only ever lost one fight…” Jackson tuned him out. He didn’t want to hear it or else he’d be purchasing more than one wolf today.

Spoke the more normal of the two foreigners. But the messier one looked at the chariot and noticed Jade's presence. "It smells like Lycan." "How do you know that?" asked Jhon. "He's a wolf, he has a much more sensitive sense of smell than the rest." "Get that girl out of here I know, we were sent to clean up this city, we need to corroborate if she's a Lycan or not" "Yes she is a Lycan, but she doesn't transform by the moon, you can ask the king."

Jared headed into the car after he was sure that Louis had out up a barrier spell to keep everybody else out of the house. He looked around and saw that the house was almost isolated. He started the car as the rest got in and they headed to the blue moon valley. He got there and the first person he saw was Roland, only that he wasn’t alive anymore. He was dead, hung at the gate like he was a traitor. Jared looked at Xavier and Xavier looked away. They drove around until the got to the cemetery. Jared knew the witches we’re going to be there, what he didn’t know was why Louis had brought them there. He stopped the car and they all got down and continued their journey on foot. When they got to

With a deep breath, I signalled to my wolf, who swiftly moved her forearm backwards and prepared to strike his neck with her sharp nails. But just as her claws were about to make contact with his fur, his eyes suddenly opened, locking onto ours. It was as if he could sense our every move, and my wolf froze in hesitation. As I was about to warn her, Daruis' wolf suddenly pounced on us, causing us to crash into a tree. The impact was so intense that blood gushed out from our wound. I saw him advancing towards us, but I was paralyzed and unable to move due to the excruciating pain in my stomach. Despite our efforts, we failed to stand up. Standing in front of us, Daruis' wolf stared straight in

Luna’s breath hitched, and she sighed, her hand pressing against her temples as if trying to stave off a headache. “This isn’t right,” she murmured, but her voice faltered under Louve’s relentless gaze. With a swift motion, Louve dropped from her chair. She moved to a darkened corner, where shadows seemed to cling to her every step. When she returned, her hands were wrapped around a black knife, the blade gleaming ominously in the dim light, and a wooden bowl that seemed far too ordinary for what was about to unfold. Without a word, I extended my hand. Slowly, Louve pressed the blade against my arm. A sharp sting tore through me.

I repressed a burp that could’ve easily been vomit. The room hadn’t yet stopped spinning when a large, and very cold hand captured my face. Its fingers dug into my cheeks, but that wasn’t what stole the gasp from between my lips. It was the magic lapping at my skin, and the two starburst eyes staring into my own, that rendered me speechless. They danced with endless amusement. “Tell me, little wolf. Do you need to be restrained from harming yourself, or can you listen to me for just one night?”

I didn’t even bother thanking her or saying goodbye, relieved that I’d never have to smell the disgusting mix of old lady perfume and cigarettes, or hear her raspy smoker’s voice, again. A few days later, on a warm Thursday in mid-August, Hugo drove me to his pack. We stopped at the entrance and exited the car, then we were brought to a small room. The werewolves who escorted us there wrinkled their noses at the sight of me, and I realized it must be my rogue smell. I let out a deep sigh. When we were waiting alone, I asked Hugo, “Is the smell really that bad?” He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “No, they’re exaggerating. It’s just a little unpleasant.”

Sophie laughed. "You really entertained us this morning Daya. I couldn't stop laughing and to think you called her an evil spirit who was here to take over your mate got me rolling" Mira laughed. "Really? I got my wolf?" I asked excitedly. "Yes so you can stop being dump. My name is Snow, and you can call me the beautiful one" The voice said. Rather my wolf said.

She remained still for a while and sighed. She flops onto her bed and groans into her pillow, 'Come to think of it, aren't werewolves supposed to like, find their partner or mate when they come of age? I'm 17. Does that mean mine's gonna be decided in a year? It's a pretty unfair concept if you think about it. It's like you're destined to be with your mate, no matter who you like or have liked before. You will eventually end up with your mate. It's like you have no choice but to be attracted to some person you know nothing about. It's kinda stupid. Is that how it really works? Not like it matters anyway, I have no proof as to whether or not that's real.' She shrugs.

The ride into the heart of the city was unlike anything I had experienced back home. Lucien was transformed. The brooding, silent man at the Estate had vanished, replaced by a man who seemed revitalized by the very air of France. He spoke incessantly, filling the cabin of the car with stories of the architecture we passed, the bloody history of the revolution, and the subtle nuances of French werewolf culture.