Smoke Wolves Novels & Stories

Verina’s wolves fanned out on either side of her, all of them large, dark, with glowing red eyes, crouching down, ready to hurl themselves at my pack. My wolves were equally prepared, stooping low, finding their centers of gravity so they could launch off of the ground and meet any attack midair. Or be the first to strike.

In the blown window, a brown she-wolf crouched half inside, breath hot and rotten, eyes intelligent and hateful. “Out of my house!” Jake bellowed. The wolf weighed him, then lifted a muscled forearm as he fired. Rounds sparked off hide and bone. Zak and Tara piled in. “Smart bitch,” Jake snapped, still working the trigger. “She’s not going down!” Zak barked, stitching a burst. “Body!” Jake yelled. They dragged fire off the skull. The she-wolf shrieked, rocked, then vaulted backward into the yard and vanished into the dark.

“I am Selene, the moon goddess. In just few years, a guardian of my own choice will rise alongside four special wolves that I have chosen. Together, they will save the werewolf Kingdom from perishing. The wolves will be called the Elemental wolves and they will be able to wield each of the four elements. “The guardian will help the Elemental wolves with their powers and she shall be their mother. The Elemental wolves will be paired mates, born on the same day and they will come from only three packs; The Royal Park, The Intelligence Park and the Power Park. The war Park is not included because the Elemental wolves will eventually need the warriors from the park. The Elemental wolves will be

The smoke from the blasted gate hadn’t even fully cleared before the first rogue lunged. It was a renegade wolf from the Shattered Alliance, already half-shifted into a grotesque, asymmetrical bipedal beast. His eyes burned with an unstable, drug-fueled red, foam dripping from a jaw filled with mismatched, jagged teeth. He carried the rancid, biting scent of a packless outcast—a smell that made Astrid’s inner wolf recoil in pure disgust before rising up to unleash its own blinding fury.

Yeah, the night was a mess. Smoke everywhere, thick enough to choke on, and that tension? You could slice it with a claw. In the middle of it all, this bonfire kept spitting shadows up the trees, lighting up a bunch of rough-looking wolves—rogues, the lot of them. These weren’t your storybook heroes or noble pack members. Nah, these were the leftovers, the ones who’d spent most of their lives dodging trouble or scrapping for a scrap of territory no one else wanted.

As deadly as a wolf might be, alchemists are far worse creatures. Yes, wolves were much easier to speak with. Bobble, the white tumid fish on her bedside table, watched the wolf with wide, fearful eyes. His gaze is more bulging than normal, if that was possible. The fat little fish looks like its puffy body was filled entirely with anxiety at this moment.

- Ma-a-rta-a, well, explain. - Alina meant that Maxim could not, mmm, ... let's say, meet with every woman. Men have a sharper sense of smell than we do. And the stronger the wolf, the more difficult it is for a man to find a woman. Sometimes strong werewolves get nausea, headaches, if due to circumstances they are forced to communicate for a long time with unsuitable smelling women. And the alpha wolf is even harder without a woman. - Why? - It is necessary to throw off excess force.

he explained, gaze distant. The erratic fluttering of her heart began again, like a bird flying around in its cage. Rogue wolves were supposed to be rare now–a thing of the past. "And since they're in our vicinity now, it makes it our problem and responsibility. I was young the last time an incident like this had detrimental effects, and I'm hoping something like it doesn't happen again."

I didn’t think much of it when I heard the bells ringing above the front door, but then her scent hit me, wafting in on the early autumn breeze like smoke from a bonfire. My breathing quickened, and I felt my mouth begin to salivate as the wolf in me pulled toward her like a dog on a chain. Taking a quick glance around, I pulled my flask out of my jacket pocket, sneaking a sip, pretending I couldn’t see the judgmental eyes of one of the moms from Alex’s school. It didn’t used to sting when people looked at me like shit under their shoe. I was used to it after growing up as Pete Hawthorne’s son. No one ever expected me to be any better than I was, so I didn’t care about trying.

“You could end it, you know. Pick a winner. Let them live.” I snort. If only it were that easy. “Find me one who can last past the third sunrise, and maybe I’ll consider it.” Her presence flickers in front of me, like a whisp of smoke. “You’ve gone soft. I can smell it on you.” “Must be your imagination. The only thing soft here is the ground after the corpses hit it.” She chuckles and fades, leaving the back of my skull blessedly empty. I straighten, scanning the new arrivals. A witch crying into her hands. Two wolves are already posturing for dominance. A human, brave or stupid, probably both, trying to look like she belongs. Typical.