Tawnypelt X Crowfeather Novels & Stories

Fire and stone, pup—revel on. The ridge sang—wildflowers swayed, stones glowed, willows whispered, the creek’s gurgle a chorus. Sam’s tattoo glowed, Kevin’s touch her strength, Mara’s laughter her edge, Lila’s sketches her guide, Cora’s wisdom her heart, Tess’s fire her shield, the pups’ joy her future. The Iron Veil was dust, its blood a memory, the Dawn Pack’s fire eternal, their howl a symphony under a dawn reborn.

Richard Hale’s latest business triumph but for Elena, it felt like walking a tightrope over a pit of wolves. “You’re still a virgin, aren’t you, Ellie?” Jake sneered, his arm slung around a girl whose dress was shorter than her dignity. His new girlfriend smirked, champagne glass dangling from manicured fingers. “Little Miss Perfect. Always preaching about waiting for the right person. What’s it been twenty-two years of nothing?”

a sharp, mocking voice sliced through the murmurs. The crowd parted instantly. A tall, heavily muscled female warrior stepped into my path, completely cutting off my route. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a tight braid, and her golden eyes burned with pure, unadulterated arrogance. "And who exactly are you supposed to be?" I asked, refusing to back down an inch. "Tanya," she said, leaning down slightly to look me dead in the eye, her breath hot against my face. "A real warrior of the Shadowpelt pack. A hunter. Not a broken, useless human who got dumped by her lover within a twinkle of an eye."

Between them, in elegant black script, sat the tattoo: CW His striking glassy gray eyes darkened as he stared. “There’s another one,” I said, voice turning low and teasing. “On my hip bone. Want to see that too?” He nodded once. I stood, unzipped the prison trousers, and nudged them down just enough to reveal the smooth skin of my hip. The second tattoo read CROWE in the same beautiful lettering, right above the delicate line of my v-cut. “I can’t see it properly,” Ryker murmured, his voice dropping. “Come closer.”

I demand, my voice sharp as I pull back against his grip once we reach the passenger door. Celt stops. He turns his massive body around, trapping me between his heavy frame and the cold metal of the vehicle door. He leans down, his scarred face inches from mine, his deep cedar scent completely wrapping around my senses. “You’re in my territory now, Joxie,” Celt rumbles, his gray-blue eyes burning with an intense, possessive fire as he reaches into his pocket and slides a thick, dark iron ring onto my index finger. “And nobody in Silverpine City touches what belongs to Hawkridge Row.”

The howling sound of a wolf echoes throughout the woods. Her cotton-like soft hand clutches his rock solid one. The cold touch of her sends tingling waves in his fiery hands. He turns towards her with a smirk. She jolts his hand down, biting her lips. Her dark ash brown hair is contrasting her milky white cheeks. Her almond-shaped dark brown eyes are captivating enough to hold his gaze for an eternity. His fingers land on her rosy lips before she can open her mouth. The chirping of leaves had made him cautious.

The mate bond had just taken effect. Camilla wasted no time walking toward the three Alpha King's heirs she had chosen: Kael Dorne, Lucien Vire, and Soren Hale. They closed in around her, their eyes filled with raw desire. All around the camp, other male wolves clearly wanted to compete, but they were intimidated by the pressure of royal blood and didn’t dare step forward. Surrounded by them, she looked like some kind of saint in a chaotic world.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY SEVEN THIRD POV Three months had passed since the pack's last gathering, and the air was electric with excitement as the Cornrow Pack prepared to witness a historic moment – the coronation of their new Alpha King, Damon. The sun was setting over the pack's territory, casting a warm orange glow over the gathered crowd. The atmosphere was alive with chatter and laughter as the pack members eagerly awaited the ceremony. At the center of the gathering stood an elegant stage, adorned with intricate carvings and symbols of the pack's heritage. Before the stage, a beautifully crafted altar held a delicate, gemstone-encrusted crown, awaiting its new owner. The Luna ce

A gentle whimper slipped out from her as she immediately caged him back and reciprocated his action. Their mouths alluringly devoured each other whereas their tears collided along with their hearts. They both only pulled apart when their breathing turned abrupt. They both joined their foreheads and breathed into each other's air. Their arms were holding each other firmly with no intention of letting each other go even for a split second.

Roxie cooed with the other girls. Rune chuckled and it was the cutest thing Roxie had ever heard. “Mate finds each other when their wolves are fully developed and they've had their first shift which is at the age of 19 and 20,” Roxie looked curiously at Willow and Isleen. “You guys found your mates yet?” “Not yet,” Willow says sadly. “Hopefully soon,” Roxie looked back at Rune, she didn't want to miss a single detail.