Mason Winter Novels & Stories

"I can barely see three feet in front of me." "Then stay close to the bar," she laughed, dragging him toward the center of the chaos. The party was a victory celebration—the Wolves had apparently dominated the ice earlier that evening. Kol accepted a drink from Valeria, the amber liquid burning a trail of warmth down his throat. He wasn't a regular at these scenes; his life was a disciplined loop of the Sunrise Dance Studio and his Food Technology studies. But as the music—a heavy, driving beat—took hold, the dancer in him took over.

I was healing. Wasn’t I? Before the doubt could settle deeper, boots crunched the snow behind mezzz Mason took the deer from me effortlessly and slung it over his shoulder. The muscles in his arms flexed, and I tried not to stare too hard. The rogues were naturally strong, but Mason’s strength was something else, it had a quiet, simmering quality. Confident without being cocky. “Ready to head back?” he asked. “Yeah.” The walk to camp was silent at first, only the sounds of crunching snow, distant bird calls, and the soft crackle of frozen branches breaking beneath our boots.

The moment they landed, she abandoned them. "Go by yourselves. I need to find Nora first." Ignoring their calls behind her, she rushed straight to the gates of Northbridge University. She waited there for an entire day, but she never saw her husband or daughter. "Nora Duncan? There isn't anyone by that name in this year's medical school cohort." The student volunteer welcoming freshmen looked at her strangely. "Ma'am, did you remember wrong?" Marissa's mind went completely blank. How could that be? Nora Duncan had clearly been admitted to the clinical medicine program!

“Is your stomach signaling for meat? Let us clear the villa and hunt down some rations.” “Splendid! A new roasting den just opened near the eastern rink. Their kitchen serves an incredible frozen cream blend,” Mcqueen cheered, his tail giving a quick, happy flick at the mention of food. “Too bad your winter cycle restricts your intake of cold substances.” “The restriction stands. My wolf is wary of introducing ice to my core right now, but the roasted meat is fair game.” Our dialogue continued until we cleared the outer tracking gates of the villa. Across the neutral zone, Mason had commanded a lavish spread of game and a vintage bottle of fermented red sap. He kept his compliments flowing i

Xander, who was glued to his phone, mumbled, “Are you guys planning to teach him how to dance or something?” “Cold punk,” Weston snorted and Xander shit a glare at him. “Look, Ella’s just a free-spirited bitch, and Dexter is just trying to—” “Stop,” Dexter cut in, silencing JSethho. Mason quickly cut in. "It’s not about what happened. My mom’s sick, and I just need to spend time with her, that’s all,” Mason explained. “Professor Ste-phen Draven…” Dexter’s voice cut through the conversation. “You know him?”

He was so used to waking up with her cuddled close to his side. Mason stood on the bench and swung his phone around, trying to find a signal bar. Mr. Grudeso, the owner of the house Mason was currently staying at, leaned against the doorframe and watched Mason in amusement. Mason almost fell off the bench when he heard a chuckle from the door. Mason shot him a sheepish smile and sat back down on the bench as the cool wind blew. The weather wasn't as freezing as it was the last time he came there since it was spring. He only had a light jacket on and a pair of grey sweatpants.

The sound of his blades cutting too hard into the ice, the way he rolled his shoulders when he was frustrated. And the stupid clean smell of his cologne lingering behind after he skated past me. It was annoying and that was all. This morning, though, something felt off. Mason showed up late again, shoving through the rink doors at almost five-thirty. His hair was damp like he’d showered in a hurry, and there were shadows under his eyes dark enough to bruise. He didn’t say anything when he dropped his bag onto the bench. I didn’t say anything either.

It was forbidden ground, the den of the mad wolf Axel. ... This day brought the worst blizzard of the season. It was also the date carved into Axel's bones. It was his birthday and the anniversary of Seraphina's death. An old courier knelt trembling outside the tent. "Alpha... This is a package a lady left with us ten years ago. She paid ten times the normal fee and specified it be delivered to you today." Axel emerged from the tent. Ten years of weathering had streaked his temples with white, but his eyes remained as lifeless as they had been a decade ago.

Mason asked as we walked back home funny enough he lived in the same apartment complex as me and due to experience it took me a while to finally accept that not all people are evil, especially when you have a short experience of someone like Sylvester. Funny enough how I didn't hear from him again. “Well it was fun, I had friends and families, I had a job and I pretty much had my life together!*. Liess!!!!!! “I have only been to Chicago once and that was it, I went to my grandma's funeral last year!” Masin explained. Mason was a tall chocolate skinned man. He had a beautiful set of brown eyes and his hair was very much curly. His skin looked so flawless that it looked like hot chocolate.

My back comes into contact with the windowsill, and I grip the ledge for support. Mason’s eyes glow Icy white. His wolf is staring back at me; I take a shaky breath. Waiting for the pain, knowing it was inevitable. I had angered him by pushing past him and not paying him attention. I should have known he wouldn’t let it drop. Why would he? He had nothing exciting to do tonight. His dad had ordered him to stay at home, as well as me, which had annoyed him to no end. There was no way he would let this slide, not tonight.