Silver Shadow Book Novels & Stories

Lester says. Before he has a chance to finish his sentence the temperature drops, and a very menacing growl is heard. Shit, I look over to see all seven of them standing there. I call my guys off as Carver sends out a link to his. We hurry and get the fuck out of there. “You did not fucking tell me that they were part of fucking Silver Moon.” I yelled. “They are not part of the fucking pack. They are just living there.” Carver yelled back.

Join us Prince Vladimir, then all Immortals Packs can stand together. The Prince sneered and his eyes glowed like droplets of blood, ‘Come to me Silver Wolf’ Katya tried to look away and break the contact but she was drawn into those evil glittering eyes. Fighting back she opened her silver eyes wider pushing back his power but he mind-linked her, ‘Come to me or I’ll lock you in Blaise forever’

I eat absolutely everything in front of me and then sit up straight to let the food settle in my tummy. “So, I ran all your tests and there is a few things I would like to discuss with you before the Alpha King comes to talk to you” I just nod yes “So there is a significant amount of wolfsbane, silver and mistletoe to name a few in your blood stream. Do you know how it got there? And how are you still alive?” She asked with a curious look on her face.

The man standing in front of me was frail. His height made him stoop. The moonlight captured his sunken eyes just right. He held a tome so thick I feared he would fall over. Despite its size it was a beautiful book. The outside was shiny black. Jewels dotted the front. The back was imbued with bright gold filigree. The man stood on an altar made of the same stuff. It was shiny black. It almost looked like water. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch it but I stopped myself. Something about this felt like a test. I don’t know why I got that impression but I dug my toes into the earth and clasped my hands behind my back.

I had to struggle to suppress a laugh. The Silver Myst was an urban legend, a pure silver wolf who showed up when things looked at their worst. He first appeared near four years ago, shortly after the war began, and has, supposedly, been seen numerous times since. It was always out of the corner of someone’s eye, or seen by a friend of a friend. Chris and the others were too old to believe in fairy tales.

The warmth of the flames seemed to beckon the past forth, and I began. "You see, Silver's history is a tapestry woven with tragedy and perseverance, a tale that echoes through the ages of our kind." I narrated the tale even as I looked for clues that could help me find Lilac, my mate. "Long ago, Silver's family belonged to a pack steeped in tradition, where the howls of the wolves harmonized with the whispers of the trees. They were devout worshippers of the Moon Goddess, their lives entwined with the celestial dance of night and sky. And at the heart of it all was Silver, half wolf, half witch. Born from an Alpha father and a witch mother; a beacon of devotion and purity, entrusted as the p

The thought sends a chill down my spine, colder than the library’s drafty corners. I flip through the book absently, the dry rustle of pages the only sound breaking the silence. Here’s a passage on the Silver Blessing: a divine gift granting immunity to silver, passed down through the royal bloodline, meant to protect against the very weapons that felled lesser wolves. But tied to it, the Shadow Curse—a witch’s vengeance from centuries past, dooming the heir to madness without a true mate to anchor them. The words blur as memories flood in: Liora kneeling by the pool, her face pale as the visions unfolded—her father, Alpha King Thorne, proud and unyielding; Marcus, the Beta’s betrayal etched

“Silver paid in coin. Silver pays in blood. Silver Fang.” A murmur rippled through Shadow Pack’s warriors. Ryder’s jaw flexed, his rage coiling tighter. He had suspected Silver Fang’s hand in the growing unrest, but hearing it confirmed sent a storm through the night. Crystal stepped closer, her firelight spilling across the prisoner’s face. “Silver Fang does not work alone.” Her voice was sharp, steady. She could feel it… the oily, suffocating trace of something darker clinging to the rogues minds. It was faint, but familiar. Shadows she had felt in Greenwood, and Weeping Valley.

For a second everything was flame and shadow and the smell of cooked dust. “Go!” I screamed at the Byrnes, and they were already gone, the door blown wide as they vanished into the rain. Matrix slammed me into the bookcase. Paper exploded around us like snow. We went down in it—me on my back, his weight pinning, his breath hot with whiskey and four kinds of regret. “Got you,” he said softly, almost tender, which is how you know a man’s about to kill you. “End of the road, Silver.”

"What am I supposed to do? The second I put it on, I'll transform, won't I?" "Probably." Noah ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I've been researching all afternoon. There has to be a way around this." "And?" "Silver disrupts supernatural energy. For werewolves, it burns. For kitsunes, it breaks illusions and forces transformation." He pushed a book toward her. "But there might be a loophole." Yuna looked at the page he had marked. It was written in old English, barely readable, but she caught key phrases. Diluted silver. Partial exposure. Temporary resistance.