Ruthless Creatures Novels & Stories

She was neither gentle nor nurturing. She slammed her hand on the table. "Enough! You will listen to me. Whether you choose to believe it or not, there are creatures similar to us that still kill for sustenance and sport. They revel in becoming the very monsters that haunt human nightmares, using their grotesque and often misshapen forms to amplify the terror just before they strike their victims. Once they fully transform, they are nearly impossible to kill, recruiting new members by slaughtering humans. And do you know what happens when they are reanimated? They become insatiably hungry." Their food of choice? Human flesh and bone."

"Today is your lucky day because I won't kill, that's why I turn your babies to statues, and do you know the worst thing? They can feel and hear everything going on around them including hearing this conversation, but you can't feed statues and they will die, slowly. Go and tell the person that sent you this; just because he thinks my father and I aren't in good terms does not mean I will stand still and watch harm befall him or his wife or my step-brother. I don't normally do this but tell your sender that I am giving him a second chance and if he dares to repeat this mistake again, he won't live to see who sits on his throne, do I make myself clear?" "Yes Ruthless." "Ah that reminds me, I

“Things?” “Yes,” he hissed. “I don't call them people. I don't even call them animals. They are things, unfeeling, destructive things. And as I was saying, those things don't play by the rules. You can’t bribe them, You can’t negotiate. They have power and influence all around the fùcking globe.” “If you kill one, ten more come crawling like cockroaches. They feed on blood, burn everything in their path, and leave only chaos in its wake.”

He took my mind off things. At the battle of Riocht, I didn’t feel like I was robbing life. Crawlers are neither ‘were’ nor human. They were unholy creatures made with evil intent, so dispersing of them didn’t play on my conscious. Not like the lives we took at MacTire.

Debbie chuckled and raised an eyebrow at me as she rummaged through her bag and pulled out a cloth to wrap around my wound. Her response got engraved in my memory, and I am certain that it will remain so for the rest of my life. A simple response, but one that left an everlasting effect on me and provided answers to all of my questions. She stated the truth in her mind. No, they're more than just people; in fact, calling them animals isn't even close to describing what they're like. They are a horde of viciously nasty creatures. Murderers like them don't require justifications for their crimes. All they can think about is how pleasurable the outcome of their atrocities will be to them at the

Alpha Kai Rage is a living thing. It coils in my chest, hot and suffocating, crawling beneath my skin like fire ants with teeth. Every breath I take tastes like ash and humiliation. Every step echoes with the knowledge that I was played outmaneuvered by my own right hand, betrayed under my own roof, weakened in the eyes of my pack. Jackson and Aliya.

He assured her as she nodded her head. Rasmus looked behind to find those wolves already attacking his men and Hunter. They all shifted as they pounced forward with snarls and growls. "They are more in number," Aurora panicked. "Hunter and I are Alphas. Trust your brothers. Now go!" He shut the door as she hurried to the driver's seat.

The three words hammered relentlessly in my mind, growing louder with every beat of my cursed heart. Kill. Destroy. Blood. Then, I saw them. A pack of rogues, their twisted forms barely distinguishable in the crimson haze. The stench of them was overwhelming... acrid and vile, curling into my nose and making my hackles rise. Their eyes glowed faintly in the darkness, filled with caution and malice. They huddled together, their grotesque forms trembling with barely concealed tension. Their alpha stepped forward, baring yellowed teeth, his growl cutting through the heavy silence.

“Men like Julian love control. And when they lose it, they burn everything.” “Maybe you should ask yourself why he’s losing control,” I say softly. Her expression hardens. “You are repeating our mother,” she says. The insult hits deeper than I expect. “She chased intensity,” Olivia continues. “Drama. Chaos and when it collapsed, she cried and called it fate.” “I am not her.” “No,” Olivia agrees. “You’re worse.” My chest tightens. “You pretend you’re innocent.” “I never said I was innocent.” “Then stop acting surprised when consequences arrive.”