Millinium Wolves Novels & Stories

His amber eyes swept the high crags defensively, his jaw set in a hard, unyielding line that signaled his wolf was still aggressively policing the perimeter of our pack. "The frontline column has officially cleared the valley floor, Lyra," Killian rumbled, his deep, chest-vibrating voice dropping into a register that made the war-steeds shift nervously. He leaned closer, his dark, heavy scent of cedar and copper flaring hot against the freezing mist. "Six thousand wolves—Bloodmoon, Northern alliance, and the first conscripts of the capital houses—are moving in a tight wedge. They aren't marching for a crown anymore. They are marching for their lives. The prince thought he could poison our wa

Mirelle Voss is holding a leather ledger book, counting the secret blood gold coins we smuggled into the overseas rogue packs, so her jaw drops open as she snaps back with absolute impatience, "My ears already know your spirit despises his face. Do your small brains think my own beast enjoys looking at his silver eyes? My tongue told your mind before, our line must wait patiently for a perfect hunting opportunity to make his boots slip on the mountain trails." It holds zero importance to our plans whether Franklin survived his early cycles in the wildlands or not, because his physical shell is just a young male wolf in his early twenties who knows nothing about city courts. His spirit is you

Author's Note: If you read an early version of Wolfbane (Book 1), you will notice that the names of the packs in Quebec have now changed. Here are the changes: > Pack Bois Foncé is now the Bois Sombre Pack > Pack Lune Taïga is now the Lune Nordique Pack I apologize for any confusion! *** ALEXANDER

someone shouted from the camp. "Stay here!" mother said, and I obeyed. A woman came through the door. Her hair was white, too, but she was a bit older with a few lines on her face. White hair was a genetic trait in the family. Instantly, I remembered that our pack, The Skyefrost Pack, had Viking heritage. Hence, the fair skin, blonde and white hair, and white fur. We were Arctic Wolves. "Grandma," I said aloud. "Ssshhh," Daphne said, still holding my hand.

My fingers trailed along the silver molding until we came to a halt. Standing just a few inches shorter than the door frame, Azrael lifted one of his leather covered shoulders in a shrug. “Lycan’s are a bit wilder than your average wolf. Their favorite prey is the one that fights back. Trust me, if he didn’t find you interesting, he would’ve ripped your throat out for that comment alone.” Pretty sure his eyes sparkled when he said that. Me, on the other hand. I was busy trying not to wet myself.

But I knew if we leave her alone during her first shift, she'd die, or she'd never manage to do it, and both options didn't sit well with me, I need her to be safe and happy, to stay near me. "It hurt," she cries out, and I nuzzled her, ignoring her vampire sent and just focusing on her wolf side, she finally managed to do it, she shifted fully, instead of Millie stood a medium size wolf, she's not a puppy, but she's not near my size, she's medium, a bit on the smaller size, a white wolf. "Beautiful," dad says from his side, white wolves are rare, she's one of the rarest wolves out there, being a mixed species, one who could fully shift to both sides.

"I’ve never heard of that kind of wolf before." Valarie’s lips curled into a knowing smile as she turned and walked toward a velvet couch placed near the fireplace. Her movements were slow and deliberate, as if each step was choreographed by wisdom and time. "Sit down," she said gently, pulling a thick, leather-bound book from a shelf. The cover was embossed with silver runes that shimmered faintly under the library’s soft lighting. "Moon Wolves are rare—rarer than Lycans, rarer than the Supreme Alphas. In fact, only two have ever existed... and both belonged to the Paleframe bloodline."

But he still looks meek against Fenrir. Fenrir was twice his size. A giant wolf, perhaps passing for a Lycan, the largest but long-extinct werewolf race. Fenrir’s wolf was skinnier but was evidently muscled and agile. He was a midnight black wolf, who had rich fur, and his dark eyes were more slanted, like that of a fox’s—unlike Flavian’s round, doe-like eyes. They were the perfect polar opposites. Their stark contrast, as much as I hate to admit it, is a fascinating thing to witness.

His wolf was massive and even though aged, so strongly built with a reddish-brown coat. The enemy stretched across the field now, a dark tide creeping closer. Their numbers were staggering, a sea of bodies that seemed endless. Killian had brought everything he had—wolves, vampires, hybrids—an army forged in chaos and blood. And then, the pack parted, and my eyes locked in the center of the enemy formation. There, nestled in the middle, was the hulking form of Killian’s wolf. It was the largest wolf on the battlefield, carrying an undeniable authority. His presence cut through the blizzard, even without the need to speak.

All the warriors were conditioned to live life as if they were in active battle so they moved without urgency or fear as we embarked on one of the greatest journeys of our pack. “Let’s end this,” I said. He followed behind me as we went to where the others were gathered. There were over two hundred wolves that would start the operation and we had several backups, all of whom would come after us. We would devastate Blood Moon hard and fast. I shifted. My senses sharpened. The ground underneath quivered with the paws of so many wolves moving at once in the same direction. Blood Moon didn’t know we were coming. Not yet. By the time we got to the borders, their soldiers were just changing shifts