Nox Draven Novels & Stories

“Wren. The last three—” “Are almost here,” I finish. “I know.” The wall screen flares. Rowan’s work. He’s looped our feed into every pack channel. The whole keep just watched Mercy get wrapped. Watched Wrath open the cage. Watched Cove heal an Alpha. Narrative: flipped. Draven pushes to his feet. Sways. Doesn’t fall. He looks at Creek. At Ash. At Cove. Then at me. “I was wrong,” he says. Only I hear it. “About the dungeon. About choosing. About—”

Somewhere above, water dripped in steady rhythm, marking the passing of time she no longer wished to count. She pressed her forehead to her knees, whispering softly into the silence, “Sebastian…” Her wolf whimpered within, weak but alive…..bound by magic yet still reaching, still calling. The door creaked open. Draven stepped inside, his dark cloak brushing the floor like the whisper of death itself. His face was unreadable, carved in sharp lines of malice and strange calm. His eyes, though, carried something far more dangerous than anger obsession. “You’re stronger than I expected,” he said, his tone almost conversational. “Most would have begged by now. You… you still have fire.”

Knox loomed over him, blade up, chest heaving, staring down three men wearing colors that I’d never seen. Not the greens and silvers of the neighboring pack, but something darker and wholly unknown, striped black and crimson like old and dried blood. Soren was pressed to a crumbling wall, his good arm holding the blade of a fourth opponent at bay from his throat. And Draven, bloody, chest heaving, stood between it all. Between his brothers and whatever the fuck was going on. "Calla, stay back," he started, and then his eyes found me fully and something in his face cracked with a relief so raw it looked like pain.

She craved to be chosen openly, shamelessly with no hesitation. When he entered her life, he gave her exactly that, intense affection, gentle touches, long conversations, and a kind of desire she had never known. For a sheltered girl who has always felt invisible, his warm affection always felt like a light at the end of a tunnel. But behind the desire lay something heavier. His temper, his violent stories, the weight of his complicated past, and the quiet way he consumed her emotionally began to drain her. Torn between the only man who made herpersonal story about the dangers of being intensely desired and the courage it takes to choose oneself over the person who makes you feel everyth

I didn’t answer. “Nyxion,” he pressed. “I don’t know what it is about him,” I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I want to hate him. I do. He’s cruel and cold and full of secrets. But then I see him like that—hurting, weak—and I can’t walk away.” Draven didn’t interrupt. “I wish I could hate all of them,” I added. “I wish I could feel nothing.” “You wouldn’t be you if you did,” he muttered. “You feel too much.”

A battered, troubled soul seeking for vengeance for his family and seeking to restore balance to his people. As much as he looked like one, he is not a super-human, of should I say a super-werewolf. He had a heart just like mine. And was equally fragile and subject to fear. "...I have to be strong for you." His soothing voice brought me back from my reverie, after I had trailed off. Ever since my mom got missing, no one has ever been there for me. No one cared. Hell! No one even knew I existed. Hearing those words triggered a new affinity for Drax. His words were so sincere, and no doubt they were straight from his heart. This time I didn't just want to hug him... I wanted to kiss him badly.

"After a long wait, we finally found that Cohen. His presence has eluded us for the past few months, but not this time." Six months ago, it was a normal and uneventful day for the entire pack of Darkwood who was recognized as the strongest and most feared under the leadership of Alpha Baristo. Everyone was busy practicing and trying to not make a mistake- for the equivalent of a single one is death- when their nose catches a very faint fragrance that no one else has been able to smell for decades. But for Baristo who that day stood at the balcony of his office, he knew and could never be mistaken that it was from the sacred blood of a blessed child of the Moon Goddess– from a Cohen.

His shadow was missing, leaving an eerie emptiness at his feet. Dizziness clouded my vision, and as my consciousness wavered, a figure materialized out of the darkness. Hayden, the enigmatic ruler of the mythological Underworld, stood before me. My eyes widened in shock and fear as I believed he had come to reclaim me, to take me back to the realm of shadows and despair.

I tell him, I start feeling hot, but not like in a sick way and I watch the Gods quirk up while the Goddesses widen their eyes. "I told you!" Hera says to Poseidon, "Too many dragon drops," "And it'll make her aroused?" He asked her as I shuffle on my feet "It would enhance a feeling she doesn't feel often or ever," Aphrodite tells him and I rock from my heels to my toes "Alright, see you guys later," Death picks me up putting me back over his shoulder "Be gentle," Demeter said Death snorts and snaps and we were back in his room. A whine leaves my lips as he puts me in his bed and I roll onto my stomach putting my hands under my thighs

She was tired of seeing his face here every morning and he was doing nothing to help her. “I know you didn’t do it. I don’t punish innocent people. I’ve done it before and it was one of the worst mistakes in my life. ” Draven said, vividly remembering the death of his parents, Anissa and Peter. Chanel only stared at him, wondering what he had done in his life. He was a very scary looking man though, she thought momentarily warning herself to steer clear. “Where’s Joshua?” Draven asked, looking at her once the darkness left his eyes.