Monster How Should I Feel Novels & Stories

Maverick pov The moment I step over Howling Moons borders I feel eyes upon me. It doesn’t feel like Liberty. If she were watching me I would feel love, comfort and worry through the bond. The eyes don’t make me feel uncomfortable, which is strange. Maybe Harrison is following me or having a warrior follow me to keep me safe or to report to him?

Monster’s tone was brimming with feelings of defeat. Jay’s treatment toward him made him feel that all his previous plots were so ridiculous. He thought he was like a malignant tumor that Jay had feared for many years. Unexpectedly, he was so insignificant in Jay’s life. Jay replied light-heartedly, “Sorry, I’ve been busy.” Monster felt hurt all over due to his ignorant tone. “Why did I lose? I truly do wonder if you were the one who lost instead, would you still speak in such a tone to poke fun at me?”

Whose actions had destroyed so many lives—and whose words could end them. In my head he felt like a monster. A massive, crushing presence that could barely be contained. But here… here he was a man. A strong man. An arrogant man. A powerful man. But a man. And a wolf, I reminded myself. He looked at me like a bug on the floor that he was trying to decide whether to squash. “You’re—” I breathed, reminding myself of the role I played. Helpless human. Mated to Mack. I swallowed and let myself feel my fear.

Her heart ached as Elizah turned her gaze out the window. "I’m sure the perpetrator wasn’t Liam. The police caught the wrong person, Julie. I don’t want to live like this. They let the real perpetrator walk free while Liam is imprisoned!" Elizah’s voice was heavy and filled with anger. Julie fully understood her sister’s feelings but could do nothing except try to calm her down. Julie fell silent, recalling something: "monsters." Yes, Elizah screamed "monsters," meaning there was more than one perpetrator. "Monsters. What do you mean by monsters? Did you feel there was more than one person?"

I get to beat someone to almost the brink of death without been question about it. I love the feeling of having another's humans blood dripping off my knuckles. I love the feeling of bones cracking against my knuckles and that's because I. Am. A. Monster. One that should never be let loose.

"You were protecting us." "I was enjoying it." The admission is quiet, horrified. "April, when I tore into them, when I felt their bones break under my jaws—I liked it. The wolf liked it. The kill, the blood, the power. That's what terrifies me. Not that I can kill. That I want to." I don't have an answer for that. What do you say to someone who's admitting they're a monster while simultaneously proving they'd burn the world to keep you safe?

August said, and I sighed. “Well, fuck. I've been thinking that I was turning into something else. After what happened out there, I thought I was slowly turning into a person with an addiction because I'm not even going to lie; it feels like this. I shouldn't be turned on again, should I? At least, maybe if there were space for a few days or something, I wouldn't feel like this. Does this happen with every werewolf?” I asked, and he shook his head.

He was big and towered over me, and it made me feel like a scared little field mouse in the shadow of a mountain lion. “Whether it was your Lycan boy or not, creating one less of those monsters would be doing the world a favor,” he said. “Come with me and we’ll find out. Once you get a taste of how good it feels to watch the light go out of their eyes… You won’t be able to get enough of it.” I took a few steps back, my eyes wide as I shook my head vigorously in horror. “No,” I replied, my voice shaking. “I can’t. I’m not…”

I stood across from one of the wolves, trying to steady my breathing, trying to pretend I wasn’t falling apart inside. The match started. It lasted less than a minute. Panic surged like a wave, drowning my thoughts, and then it happened again—my powers exploded from me in a shockwave. The wolf across from me was hurled backward. Several others were knocked off their feet. Cries of pain erupted all around. Gasps. Screams. Stares. “I didn’t mean to—” I started, but no one listened. They just looked at me. Like I was a monster. Again.

he said, and I just found myself sobbing at this. I hated every moment of it, I thought it would feel somewhat good. He was a terrible person; he was a complete monster. “Why do I feel so bad about killing a monster?” I asked Logan who looked at me. “It is because you are not one. You are not a monster like him,” he said, and I nodded. “Let’s go home,” he said, and I don’t know why but my legs gave out. He quickly caught me and then carried me to the car.