Nick Wilde Vore Novels & Stories

Adrian was being pinned against the wall by four men in tactical gear. And then, the front door of the villa on the screen opened. A figure walked in. A woman in a dark coat, her face hidden by a hood. She stopped in the center of our living room, looked directly at the security camera, and pulled the hood back. It was Vivienne Warner. She didn't look like a ghost. She looked like a hunter. She held up a small, detonator-like device and blew a kiss to the camera. "Checkmate, darling," Vivienne’s voice came through the tablet's speakers, echoing in the small, dark room.

Astrid stammered, her mouth agape as she pointed at him in disbelief. She pondered, ‘How did they know and why are they twisting the truth?’ “This isn't what happened,” she frowned and was amazed at how they came up with such tactics. Vincent stood frozen for a moment. Shock and disbelief ran through him. The words that came next were bitter, laced with anger. “You disgrace this family. How dare you humiliate us?” Old Lady Slade threw her stick at Astrid and exclaimed, “I don’t know what else you’ll bring to this family. Are you a witch?” The old lady was visibly agitated.

Cleopatra scoffed, "You must be joking if you think I'll agree to that." "Yeah, I'll kill more people, but this time, I'll be murdering witches. Witches who are plotting something sinister against the Council and werewolves in general." The corners of his lips hooked up into a mischievous smile, "And it's not like you have a choice." "Excuse me?" "Landon Vause and Cheyenne Nichols are currently in a black van. In front of them is a Lamborghini. A silver Lamborghini. And inside the Lamborghini are Neon Vause and Steele Lockwood."

Vicks leaped forward and grabbed the trunk of Wilbur's van, yanking it open and going inside. Vicks did not feel anything when he crashed into the trunk of the van. However, after going inside, he finally noticed a sharp sting in his nose. He felt it, and blood was trickling out of his nostrils. "This is all your fault, you bastard. You're going to f*cking die today!" Vicks took out an axe as he made his way to the front of the trunk, swinging the axe into the walls of the van. Sparks flew as Vicks hacked an opening into the wall and was finally able to see Wilbur in the driver's seat. Vicks took out his pistol, firing three shots at Wilbur through the opening.

“What exactly happened? You can’t just ask me to clean your mess without telling me anything. I’ll need something to make up if someone finds out about tonight.” “Violette killed Wilfred Baxter.” Varg spat the water, then coughed until his face turned red. “What the fuck?” He said while rubbing his chest in a circular motion. “I don’t know the full story yet, but I think Wilfred assaulted her.” “He deserves to be dead, then. We don’t need a man like him in this world. But how did she do that? Isn’t she hmm…weak?” “It’s the opposite. She is a powerful one who doesn’t know her real potential.”

Now he was on the cutting edge of everyday fashion with his line of Chique Gothique. Van-nilsen was sporting a black tuxedo with a black cape lined in gray silk. He carried a black walking stick he didn't need. He was the most agile vampire Malcolm had ever met. Tall and slim, he could run up the side of a building without batting an eye. His curly black hair was worn with a disheveled look, and his twinkling blue eyes dared anyone to disagree with his taste. Van-nilsen might look like a fop, but Malcolm knew better. The Frenchman could turn deadly in less than a second.

Everything that happened yesterday was too fast and now they have the leads of who killed my mother. "Are you Nicholas Wilde?" This tall man with an all gray hair asked me. I nod. "I'm detective Connor." He extends his hand to me and I accepted it. "Are you Melissa Colin's son?" He asked as I pulled my hand away. I nod again. "Base from our witness, she saw the whole thing that day. Do you anyone that drives a blue Volvo?" He asked. My brows are creasing as I try to remember anyone I know who drives a blue Volvo. I try to remember who drives a blue Volvo around this town but I couldn't remember anything. I don't know anyone. I shake my head in response. I look over to Catherine whose eyes wi

They needed no diviner or soothsayer to tell them that they'll all be completely off in a matter of minutes. “Turn off your torches!” Wilkes shouted. His voice echoed in the hollow tunnel and after about two seconds, it meshed with the thunderous rumbles of cacophonies and wails, and cries and shrieks, and bellow and hollers of the ‘shadows’ that Harold had mentioned to them days ago. “We won't be able to —” “I'm a vampire!” Wilkes replied with a heavy heave. “I can see quite fairly in the dark. Trust me on this. Trisha, hold on to my shirt and Harold hers.”

I'd rather it been sooner than later. Alpha Evan slowed down as we neared a gated fence. The guard on duty stood to attention, almost as if he'd been waiting for us to arrive and hurriedly opened the doors. A cobblestone pathway lead to a circular driveway in front of which stood a larger than life Victorian style villa, painted an off white, giving it a royal look. The previous Alpha had definitely been loaded if this was their pack house. "Here we are," Alpha Evan muttered, giving me a sidelong glance.

"One little click, and your ride home becomes your funeral pyre." I looked at Nikolai, then at the car, then back at the madman standing over his wife’s grave. The rain was pouring down, but everything felt suddenly, horribly quiet. The wind died down for a split second, leaving us in a vacuum of silence where the only sound was the clicking of the detonator's safety switch. "Don't do it," Nikolai warned, his voice a low growl. "Why not?" Victor asked, his grin widening until it looked like a scar across his face. "It’s a beautiful night for a fire."