Tequila Wolf Novels & Stories

"We don't want humans aware of our existence. I already told you nobody wants to kill you." She relaxed a little. "How do you do that with your voice?" "I am the Alpha, leader of the pack, your new leader," he said. "There is a hierarchy around here." "So I have to listen to whatever you say?" "You still have free will if that's what you're asking. But wolves automatically respect their Alpha. It's natural to follow a leader." "Do we change into wolves on the full moon? Will silver bullets kill us?"

Tristan I raised my hand, signaling the bartender to pour me another glass of tequila. The bartender heaved a sigh. “But sir, you seem like you've had enough,” he said, looking unsure. I slammed my glass down and gave him a nasty look. “I’M GONNA PAY YOU DOUBLE. JUST SHUT YOUR MOUTH AND POUR ME ANOTHER ONE.” A few people in the bar turned to look at me, and they began to gossip about me. This made me become so irritable. What the hell was wrong with them? Was this the first time they saw a drunken wolf?

Despite the fact that the werewolf standing in front of me was truly the very focus of a woman's dream in all external signs. The short-sleeved black T-shirt hugged the broad shoulders and the relief of a pile of muscles, awakening quite unambiguous fantasies in my long-suffering brain. Dark hair without any troubles about trends in fashionable haircuts beckoned me to grab it with my fingers and never let go until its owner makes me die of orgasm. “I belong to the alpha of the gray wolf clan!” - blurted out the most brilliant idea of ​​all, which she was capable of, contrary to her own thoughts.

This cowboy wolf was none other than Jeremy Lennon, high commander of the Grey Wolf armies, infamous Grey Wolf warrior, and one of the fiercest wolves ever to live. Anytime one of the Wild Eight had returned to their compound near death’s door and clinging to a thread of life, this man had almost always been the one singularly responsible—and that didn’t begin to cover the damage he’d done to the Wild Eight through the information-gathering and patrolling schedules demanded of his men. If she’d thought his battle scars made him intimidating, the pair of eyes locking onto the bush she hid in, as if he saw straight through the shrubbery, chilled her more than the snow beneath her paws. Irises

Only the strongest and the best warrior can work as a Quill warrior. We are in Quilluet Pack, the strongest, biggest, and oldest pack in the world. There are about 12.000 werewolves living in Quilluet's teritory. There are so many strong warriors from this pack, including our Alpha, Alpha Eaton Flynn. He is known as the strongest alpha in the world now. He took over this pack when he was only 16 years old. He is very attractive too......well at least that's what i heard.

The werewolf came, its feet hitting the ground mercilessly as its hands joined in its movement. It broke out from the woods, tearing off the leaves of the trees with less effort, and growling at the sight of the man. “You can't take anyone from my family.!” Mark grinned as he shifted under the bright moonlight. His bones cracked, and his skin stretched beyond its limits, tearing to become as tough as that of a wolf. He growled at the phantom, just as the phantom growled at him. Like two behemoths, they collided, and the green grasses on the ground fell victim to their battle.

Among the werewolves was Alpha Wildbreed, he was the only werewolf that wasn't from our pack. Abel Wey did not want to be claw marked. We knew he was a very special wolf. He had silver claws, and his nickname was silver claws. The man was the living werewolf nemesis. A scratch from his claws could kill a werewolf immediately. All we had to do was make his scratch more potent by lacing his claws with willow's wolfsbane, and he would be very deadly. Abel alone could kill off all the wolves, living the rest of us to face the hunters and the sorcerers if there were any.

I asked. Wolf weed was a special kind of drug added to alcohol for wolves to make them get high and intoxicated. Wolves have fast metabolism so we can't det drunk on alcohol without adding a little of wolf weed to it. “I had it with me since we left the pack. It comes in handy.” He muttered. I take a sip from my coffee. “So what happened last night?” I asked, cocking my brows at him. “Well, I just wanted Derek to talk to Maya and express his feelings, that's all.” He muttered.

“Sit.” Killian sat down. The club around them was dark and rich with the smell of cigars and whiskey. People laughed softly in corners, and low music played somewhere in the background. Antonio leaned back. “Now tell me, what is it you want so badly that you had to scare my poor secretary?” Killian rested his hands on the table. “The tequila you mentioned last time, ‘Reposado Especial’. I want it. Tell me how to get it.” Antonio chuckled again, puffing on his cigar. “Ah, that one. It’s not something you can just buy off a shelf. It’s by invitation only. The people behind it are… careful.” He tapped the side of his head. “Smart."

Bobbing my head in approval of the kid's banter, I eyed him carefully, not seeing a scratch on him; my brother, however, seemed to support a split lip, cut across his eyebrow and an impressive black eye. "Given the improvements to his face, I am gonna say no!" I expressed, looking at my brother, who was taking another long pull on the bottle of whiskey he had stolen from me. My brother was right. The human shit wouldn't touch the sides for us wolves, so I had commissioned our very own supernatural brand of alcohol known throughout our community as Hell Fangs. It tasted the same but hit harder, giving us paranormal creatures the relief we sometimes needed, loosening our tongues and ridding us