Pretty Warrior Cat Ocs Novels & Stories

Jared said. "A while," Kai repeated. "Well, I have a mate, so I wasn't alone for a while and I have a family," Jared said. "Really, that's interesting, no wonder there was a female scent in this room," Kai muttered. "Your mate, is she also a fighter?" Kai asked. "No, she handles decorations," Jared replied. "I would love to see her skill, maybe I could partner her up with Xylah," he commented. "Oh that would be too much of a favor and I don't think I will be able to pay such a favor," Jared says.

I hadn’t had any dealings with Lord Lightfoot, but my first impressions were not warm. I glare at him, my cat growling and hissing. Itching to rip his throat out. “The Princess isn’t going anywhere with you.” I spit back, wondering where the fuck Crimson was. We could really do with his presence right about now. *Commander, we have a large number of very large werecats that just crossed our borders.* A lead warrior on the Gamma team mentally connects to me. *They are not Cambiadorian and they are wearing… loin cloths.* He supplies with utter confusion in his voice.

Kat's ears swiveled, alert for any signs of danger, but all seemed peaceful. Too peaceful, she realized with a start. The woods were never this quiet unless... "Ambush!" Kat yelled, whirling around, but it was too late. The enemy warriors dropped down from the trees, landing lightly on their feet to surround Kat's small group. She counted at least twelve of them, all heavily armed and staring at her with hatred in their eyes. "Well, well," one of them drawled, flipping a knife casually in his hand. "Look what we have here. Poaching our omegas again, Kat?"

He yanked my hair, dragging my head back as he whispered, voice dripping with venom, “You’re a worthless wolf that I use whenever I like. You are lower than a slave. You have no right to fight back. You have no right to speak. You are a wolfless, barren omega.” His words sliced deeper than his hands ever could. My chest tightened. Rage simmered beneath my skin, burning me alive. He finally released my hair, shoving me backward. I lifted my head, my teeth clenched. My fists trembled at my sides as I whispered, “Reject me then.”

To make it worse, the top doesn't have an ounce of consideration for what pain he's enduring. True. A beta cannot handle an alpha's lust because scientifically, betas and alphas are not sexually compatible. It would only hurt the bottom if such intercourse is forced. It is a known fact among all people that alphas are only meant for omegas because that's how the tertiary genders dictate the world.

He smirked: "I'm not so easy to die, you go first." Elias charged at two hairy beasts with red eyes just like them. His claws are also longer and sharper than usual. His claws cut deep into their flesh, blood trickling down to the ground. But just a few seconds later, those cuts completely disappeared, as if Elias had never cut sharp cuts into them. The two beasts let out a few ghastly screams, their whole bodies emitting a strong fishy odor, and jumped towards him. Elias raised his arm covered in steel to support it.

When we got the call from Scarlett that it looked like vampires had been at our southern border and to keep everyone inside, my mate jumped into full-on Beta mode, helping me strategize who should stand guard where, in and around the packhouse and the other houses, while also keeping everyone—particularly the omegas—calm. Knowing that omegas aren’t fighters or warriors, but need to feel like they’re contributing something, Zella had them go about making arts and crafts with the young pups who were too young to know anything other than everyone was woken up in the middle of the night. Omegas by their very nature, tend to be quite nurturing, so they’re often the perfect people to help calm the

I said, “I didn't want any rumors.” I blinked. “And I had bought the machine,” I said. Tommy looked at me. “Really?” “Yeah,” I said, “but next time then. You’re going to have to keep checking it.” I turned to him. “But never mind. What did the result say? Is it out?” Tommy’s throat tightened. “Sixty percent Omega. Forty Percent Alpha.” For a second, all I could do was stare at him. “That means the Omega drug is working well,” I said, “once your Alpha percentage drops completely, it would be impossible to have the dog syndrome. Seems like good news.”

And then my eyes catch on a figure standing slightly apart from the others. He's leaning against a wooden post, arms crossed, a study in contained power. Unlike the others, who are loud and animated, he is utterly still, a statue carved from shadow. The torchlight catches the severe line of his jaw, the unruly shock of dark hair that falls across his forehead. He's tall, broad-shouldered, filling out the simple training tunic in a way that speaks of coiled power. There's an intensity about him, a palpable aura of danger that sets him apart even from the other warriors. He isn't just confident; he's lethal. A wolf among wolves.