Original Werewolf Novels & Stories

Unfortunately, It's apparent that during my summer vacation, I will live in the very place that has impacted my life more than words could fathom alone. The dream... the reality of what occurred one fateful night many years ago is bound to become a reality again, but there is nothing I can do besides cross my fingers and hope for the best. Hoping that night was really a dream, after all. The night where it all began. The night when I was attacked by a monster... The night I was attacked by a man shifting werewolf. With my legs snuggled against my chest and arms wrapped around them securely, I yawn for a bit then tilt my body closer to the window, wincing at the slight pinch of pain that pull

“I guess your cousins aren’t still sore at me for fighting them that day, although they've made themselves scarce whenever I’m around.” “On the sly, they told me that, once they’d seen your reaction, they knew you were the alpha female, even before Vernetta tried to take you down. Tanner said he was glad he didn’t have to deal with that quick temper of yours.” “And you?” “Spices life up just right.” She gave him a serious look. “When the triplets are old enough, they’ll learn the true legend of how werewolves came into existence.” He kissed her cheek and squeezed her good naturedly. “Sure, Diana honey. The first was a Scandinavian white wolf. We still have Alfred’s book to prove it.”

A bruise was already blooming along her cheekbone where Lira’s fist had grazed her. He took her injured arm in careful hands. “Hold still.” He leaned in and, without warning, licked the wounds. Elara gasped. The contact was warm, wet, strangely intimate. She felt the faint rasp of his tongue, then something else, warmth spreading, tingling, numbing the worst of the pain. “What are you...” “Werewolf saliva,” he murmured against her skin. “Heals faster than anything human. Especially for mates.” He continued, slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue along each cut. The bleeding slowed. The edges began to knit together before her eyes.

It was the only hope I had to ever be a werewolf again. My family told me they still loved me, told me that I didn't need a wolf to be happy. I mean, sure, there were tons of humans populating the planet, and they seemed to be doing okay without wolves. But I didn't want to be a human! I wanted to be a werewolf, like everyone else I grew up with. Most of all, I wanted to be able to meet my mate. Every werewolf had a mate out there they could innately sense after turning eighteen. Well, except me, probably. I mean, I still thought I had a mate, but I just wasn't sure if we’d be able to recognize each other. How do you recognize your mate without a wolf?

“What’s the difference?” “A werewolf is a fictional creature in countless books and movies that transforms into a beast on a full moon. Some renditions elegantly make them into full wolves instead of half-wolf, half-human monsters. Werewolves bite another human to transfer the ability, like a disease. Wolf shifters are born, not made.” “Never?” “Never.” She absently stroked my jaw with her fingers, playing with the stubble that had grown. I loved that she used me to soothe herself as she processed my words.

Her long blond hair was wild all over her and some stray strands stuck to her face in sweaty patches. The werewolf started to circle around her, slow purposely strolls. It's huge black eyes was staring down at her as it moved around, assessing her. It looked like it was performing some kind of ritual. The werewolf was huge with black brown fur and from the light coming from the moon behind it, it looked menacing. It's eyes were deep and dark and a scar ran from it's eyebrow to the corner of its eyes.

A cold wind swept through the clearing, and I felt the chill penetrate to my bones despite my wolf's natural warmth. To my horror, several older unmated wolves actually stepped forward at Axel's invitation, drawn by my family's status despite the humiliating circumstances. Axel guided an older wolf forward—a male at least twenty years I senior with graying fur at his temples and yellowed fangs. He leered at me with undisguised hunger. "The Silverblood daughter looks quite fertile and strong-hipped." Derek and Kai physically pushed me toward him. I recoiled in disgust, my wolf bristling beneath my skin, begging to break free and attack.

" he asks firmly. "I don't know, I just got out," I try to explain but he is not having it. He grabs me by the collar of Alanis's T shirt and pulls me until we are out of the house and in front of Alby Crix's house. Alby is the oldest wolf in out pack and he is the wisest. He has all the answers. Werewolves get old, we can live for 1000 years or more but at a point we start ageing. Which almost makes us like humans.

The creature was unlike anything Cruella had ever seen all the days of her life around the pack. It wasn’t a typical werewolf, but something twisted, something darker and Stronger. Its fur was a sickly shade of gray, matted and filthy, and its eyes glowed with an unnatural yellow light. The creature’s fangs gleamed in the moonlight, longer and sharper than any wolf’s she had ever seen, and its claws were stained with the blood of something long dead. Liam’s eyes narrowed, the familiar fire of the Alpha flashing in them. “You’re not welcome here, Raze.”

She needed to know. We have been called many names throughout the past including lycanthrope and gerufi and eventually called legend and fable. But we are most commonly called werewolf. Werewolf? What is…? Does this mean there are more of us? No. No more. His gaze remained unchanged but could feel the pain radiating from his body, though she knew not how. Her heart began to ache so deep within her chest she felt it would burst. A lump lodged itself in her throat and then a pressure welled in her gut. As she searched his eyes willing him to explain, pictures began to pass through her mind. Pictures of war… no… pictures of slaughters! The slaughter of wolves; friends and family. Abs