The Mouse That Roared Book Novels & Stories

I forced myself to keep reading, my pulse loud enough to drown out the quiet hum of the coffee shop around me. The next line waited beneath the first, short, urgent, impossible to misread. *Whatever you do, do not trust the man you married.*

It's been ten years since I followed my fated mate, Grace Murphy, into the human world. Her childhood friend, Fred Williams, is dying. His one last wish? To experience marriage. Grace said yes. She told me she wanted to give her wedding to Fred. I didn't cry. I didn't fight. I just smiled, slid the ring off my finger, and handed it back to her. She brought Fred home and said she wanted to give him a home. I said, “Okay,” softly, and stepped aside—clean, neat, no fuss. She wanted to take Fred to Hawaii—the honeymoon destination I'd been dreaming about for years. I still helped her book everything, calm and composed. The day she boarded that plane, I finally answered the summons from my pack.

I jump up releasing a thundering roar into the silence. Looking down, I see my little brother clamped down on my tail. The bright red of his scales glinting in the moonlight make it easy to see him. Little brat. What does he think he is doing? I thump my tail against the ground, knocking him off. He rolls off into the grass. What is he doing out here? My mother should have put him to bed hours ago. Grumbling, I pick him up in my talons, careful not to hurt him with my sharp claws. I fly us back to the mountain.

Madeline’s breath hitched as she heard bones crack, fabric tear, and the sound of claws scraping against the wooden porch. The children woke up and started crying, calling for her. She turned toward them, panic rising in her chest. “Stay inside the room!” she shouted. “Don’t open the door, no matter what you hear!” She turned back toward the front door just as it burst open. The wood splintered, and the wind rushed inside, carrying rain and the scent of wet fur. A massive black wolf stood there, his golden eyes locked on her, his teeth bared in silent rage.

Terry, who had just tackled another rogue, couldn't help but exclaim in disbelief. "Foolish." The Rogue leader shook his head in disdain, clearly anticipating my defeat. "Roar!" At that moment, I let out a powerful roar and transformed into a towering white wolf. With all my strength concentrated in my legs, I launched myself like a bolt of lightning toward him. The Rogue leader clearly hadn't expected such an aggressive move. His expression shifted to one of shock as his eyes widened. As the Rogue leader's attack came crashing down on me, I swiftly used my front claws to grip the top of his head. Without a moment's hesitation, I sidestepped and viciously bit into his neck.

ROAR…ROAR…! A black fire tiger with a large bear on its back roared toward a tree. On the tree, Xiao Chen, who was lying there casually, was startled by the roar of the black fire tiger. When he looked again, the black fire tiger carrying the bear realized what the beast wanted. Xiao Chen climbed down from the tree and approached the black fire tiger, which seemed very pleased with its response this time. It also boasted to Xiao Chen about bringing the large bear, which was also a powerful demon beast.

And Bloodmoon decided to destroy it in a matter of hours. I shifted mid-run, bones snapping, fur bursting along my skin. Lyx took over, and I let it. Sirens howled in the distance, human authorities, clueless and helpless against what was really happening. People screamed, scattering like leaves in the wind. And the rogues ,mangy, vicious wolves, grinned at the chaos they caused. I slammed into the first one I saw. A grey-furred bastard, bigger than most, but slow. He didn’t even have time to snarl before my claws raked across his throat, ripping him open. He hit the ground gurgling.

“Did… did you just talk?” ‎ ‎The mouse’s beady eyes twinkled. “Yes. And you should stop staring like you’ve lost your mind.” ‎ ‎A laugh tore out of me, half hysteria, half disbelief. “Oh, this is rich. First, the psycho queen, now a talking mouse. What’s next, a dancing cat?” ‎ ‎The mouse twitched its whiskers in annoyance. “Laugh all you want, I'm not the one in ropes. You can’t escape.” ‎ ‎“Oh, yeah?” I growled, jerking my arms again. “Watch me.”

The book was about a bear and a rabbit who were trying to determine which of them could stay awake longer. He read it with the same attention he gave to surgical literature. I was at the drafting table with my back partly toward him and I kept my eyes on the page in front of me, the developmental series sketches, but I was not drawing. I was listening to Tristan Cross read a picture book about a bear and a rabbit in the specific tone he used for things that required doing correctly. After the first book he set it down and picked up the second. This one was about a small girl who was afraid of thunder and the grandmother who told her the thunder was just the sky moving furniture around.