Maximal Beast Wars Novels & Stories

NARRATIVE POV This massive male was giving orders. His presence was commanding and dark. Yes. He had a pulsating darkness around him, but it oddly called to her. It matched the darkness that filled her hollow soul. It coursed through her veins. His body was riddled with deep scars. He was a war beast. Beast. CC wondered if this was the Beast that the rogues were referring to. The name suited him. She couldn’t imagine this behemoth doing mundane everyday errands like running to the supermarket in a minivan after dropping off the pups at soccer. He was raw and dangerous.

The faint vibration humming beneath my skin. The kings' aura. Corbin led me through one of the massive archways and up a series of stone steps. The higher we climbed, the stronger the sensation became. And when I finally reached the top and looked down into the arena, my breath caught. Fenric, Rhydan, and Brammon were in the center of the coliseum. Fighting each other. All three had partially shifted into their beast forms. Fenric moved with terrifying speed, dark claws flashing whenever he struck. Rhydan's tail lashed through the air like a whip, each blow carrying enough force to crack stone. And Brammon stood like a mountain amidst the chaos, every footstep making the ground tremble.

The beast began to move forward, but I fought, finding myself in the process, while I struggled to keep on the surface. I didn't want her to see the beast. I wanted her to see me. Zander. Her mate. But it wasn't, and the next half hour felt like a hellish struggle to beat a monster within—a monster that I had no chance of surviving. *** William pulled me from between her legs, the beast roaring, shaking the stained-glass windows of my bedroom. Her scent, the glaze of fear on her face, it all crowded my mind; sent me over the line of rationality.

“Our Delta’s been working us hard all spring in training. I’ll be seventeen in October.” Just then, Tobias re-enters the room with Max in tow. Max is now wearing a beautifully cut black designer suit. There’s a moment of silence. He looks like a fucking beast. “Damn,” Xander mutters. “I can’t believe he’s about to tear that one too.” Max grins like the cocky bastard he is. “Feels like it’s painted on.” And yeah, it looks it too. Daemon eyes me, Brant, Xander, and Max curiously. “Are you experimenting with some new wolf steroids, Tobias?” he jokes. “It’s not often we meet wolves who can rival us bears for size — aside from you and your father.”

Their bodies were unnaturally bloated, their fur completely peeled away to reveal raw, black skin running with purple runic veins, their eyes glowing with the exact pitch-black void that had consumed Eldrick in the transport vault. The completed war-beasts. "You brought an Alpha," Vespera whispered, her milky eyes flashing with cruel triumph. "I brought four." Before Eldrick could surge forward, the heavy iron doors at the top of the arena tiers slammed shut, iron bars dropping into place across every exit. The dark, pitch-black voids of the four war-beasts' eyes snapped toward Eldrick and me, and with a unified, deafening roar that shattered the glass chandeliers above, the cages collapsed,

Of course Christopher Henry Jameson—also known as Beast- wasn't the average man. He stood 6'5" and weighed three hundred and two pounds. He didn't like the extra three pounds. He rather liked being in the two hundred weight range even if it was by just one or two pounds. Regardless, there wasn't an ounce of fat on his perfect body. Beast was muscles on top of muscles, yet not hulking like some of the others that worked in the Marine Corps division assigned to The Department of Home Land Security, or better known as DHS. Too big made you slow. He'd seen guys bigger than him hospitalized during the CRUCIBLE training.

“You serve me.” The sky cracked above him with the sound of thunder though no storm brewed. The Beast roared inside him, a roar that shook bone and air alike. The ground split at his feet, a shallow quake that made even his warband stumble. Some dropped to their knees. Some fled. Some wept. But Maxim stood. The Beast did not vanish; it coiled tighter, bound not by chains of Hollow steel, but by something sharper—memory and flame. His vision cleared. He saw the faces of his warriors once more, real and trembling, and not the blur of prey. He saw the ruin of the battlefield for what it was: not a throne, but a grave.

I watched Fury drag Marcus across the field like a rag doll, shaking him effortlessly in his mouth, reminding me of a dog shaking a rabbit it had proudly caught. "Yes, I would say beating a defenceless female unconscious is a good reason to go to war!" I laughed, watching Marcus scream for help from Maxwell, who was wincing at his Betas pleas, clearly disapproving. "You really want to go to war over one wolfless female?" Maxwell asked, stepping closer to me. Although his face was all but healed now, the proof of my attack remained, given that his skin and clothes were tarnished in his crimson life force. "You can always get more females! But war against me and my pack will cost you many warr

The elders nodded but the fear remained in their eyes as they watched their King slowly slip away and the unholy monster begin to take his place. Jessebelle raised her well trimmed eyebrow and asked, "Who is her?" her face turned down in a frown. The king sighed, having no patience for the vexing woman beside him. And all of a sudden, like a wave it hit him... The sensation of his mates blood being drawn. Any control he had of his beast was gone as in the next few seconds he had trasformed completely with low growl. The elders all stood up and stepped back as the beast ran through the room and out of the meeting hall. Jessebelle stood up her eyes wide with fear and confusion before her knees

K 18/9/2010 I feel alone. Papa is gone just like Milly and Mama was never there to begin with. I feel like everyone I care for is snatched away from me. Are you punishing me? I ask the luna every night just before the beast takes over. I don't know how long I can handle this. I don't think I am strong enough. I am always angry, uncle Gregory said I have gone mad. I think he is right. It's always there, breathing down my neck.. the dark traces of my personality wrapping its arms around me, telling me to let go. I can see the beast everytime I look into a mirror. Its silver eyes, my eyes, flash back at me as if to remind me who's in control. I can't control the beast anymore.