Mason Winter Novels & Stories

Mason might be playful but he is one of the most cunning men to exist in the werewolf world. Mason had wanted Wren from the moment he first saw her. He was drawn to the delicate beauty of her auburn hair and soft brown eyes and the way she carried herself like she had learned to take up as little space as possible, yet couldn’t quite disappear. But it was more than just desire. It was the way she made his emotions riot, the way she got under his skin without even trying. He had built walls over the years and fortified himself against anything that might shake him. Yet somehow, she had slipped through the cracks.

Even if they were ordered to. “No need to thank me, I actually requested this assignment,” He winks, flashing me a panty-melting smile. Mason was very easy on the eyes, with his longish brown hair that curled around his ears and those soft brown eyes. He was tall and muscular with a lean build. I had noticed him the first time I visited my best friend at MacTire. But my eyes were always looking for a certain werewolf that I couldn’t get out of my head. Hunji.

“Beta looks good on you, Vale. Makes you only slightly more unbearable.” Rowan’s mouth twitched at the left corner, a solitary break in his rigid composure. “Command has done absolutely nothing for your impulse control.” “That’s why I’m beloved,” Mason countered, his shoulder shifting as he turned back to face me, his grin softening around the edges. “You look good, Dawson.” I tightened my fingers around the cardboard folder, compressing the pages against my ribs. “You live here.” “Not full-time,” Mason explained, his chin tipping toward the rocky western ridge. “My territory’s Ash Ridge now. I come back every few weeks to train the younger wolves.”

The house was chaos—in the most beautiful way. People moved quickly but carefully, carrying white chairs, long tables draped in fabric, archways of fresh flowers, and arrangements of greenery that filled the air with a soft, natural scent. Ribbons fluttered, candles were being placed, and soft laughter echoed through the halls. My heart started pounding. “What in the world…” I whispered. Then I saw him. Mason stood near the back doors, sleeves rolled up, his usually cold expression softened by quiet focus as he spoke to Weston. For once, he didn’t look like the ruthless Alpha everyone feared. He looked… happy. Nervous, even.

It was eight o’clock in the night by the time Mason was done with the video conference. Instead of going back to the bedroom, he walked over to the window in the study and smoked a couple of cigarettes. A wisp of smoke hung in the air, covering the study with a greenish hue. Mist covered the entire window. He reached out and wiped the glass, only to find four inches thick of pockets of snow gathered on the ground. It snowed particularly heavily this winter, it seemed.

“I heard Mark and Zena arguing.” “Oh, they are going at it again,” Mason sighs, “Auden and Roosevelt are getting married next month. I can’t believe I will finally be traveling to the Cold North.” “I’m happy to travel there with you. Amir and I will embrace the opportunity to be in our wolf form to keep you warmer.” “I will like that,” Mason thinks, his emotions relaxed, “Amri’s fur is quite comfortable but his tongue is too sloppy,” His face is burning hot. I had an idea of the naughty thought going through his mind but I kept quiet and didn’t tease him about it.

She is literally a foreigner. "Mason is from a noble family and so am I, so that means that I'm the only one in position to help him get a daylight ring as we are also age mates. Unfortunately he has to wait for another five years." I explained. "two years has gone since then so he would wait for the next three years" I added "Oh, then that makes sense. Five years of hiding from the sun and living a nightlife, that's sickening." Mason and I were never friends so I never felt guilty about what happened but with Paisley's comment? I thought out of the box, I really put him in deep shit... Sadly, the person he hates so dearly is his only saviour in this case.

After ten minutes of circling unfamiliar paths, I slowed to a stop with an irritated huff. Great. Lost already. I rolled down the window, spotting a lone warrior ahead. “Hey,” I called. “Pack house?” He opened his mouth to answer but his eyes widened, looking at something opposite him. Knock. Knock. I stiffened. The sound came from my passenger-side window. Slowly, I turned my head. Mason stood there. Curly blond hair, slightly longer than regulation. Brown eyes—flat, unreadable. No expression at all, like he’d been carved out of stone and forgotten there.

An unexpected plus one soured Mason's mood. He closed his eyes, took a breath to compose himself, and when he opened them, his face was plastered with a phony grin. "Hello!" Amber, who had been all smiles with Alexander, gave Mason a frosty nod in greeting. In a setting like that, no one was flashing smiles. "I'm Mason, right-hand man at the Trio Alliance Club in Ol' Mare. Miss Chesire, punctuality isn't your strong suit, is it?" Mason's face was sour as he introduced himself, trying to come off strong.