The Spare Werewolf Book Novels & Stories

The spines were all faded to one degree or another, and most of them looked antique. “Sure as hell not her porn stash, but that would be far less incriminating,” he remarked, taking out a black-bound book with gold lettering. The title read, “SAMPA VARGR” in huge letters that resembled runes. She recognized vargr from one of Darian's titles. It meant “wolf.” Hunter offered her the book, and she flipped through its pages, her heart pounding as the meaning of sampa became clearer with each successive illustration. Huge bipedal wolves were being slaughtered in every way possible, each grotesque method culminating in a silver dagger through the heart. “Why does Sandra have a book on how to hunt

The rest of the world could have burned down, and in here, it would still smell like old paper and ink. Perfect. I’d pulled three entire stacks of books around me, a fortress of leather bindings and worn pages: histories of werewolves, dense texts on Lycans, thin, brittle pamphlets about old bloodlines, even obscure case studies of wolfless wolves and the rare, desperate stories of those who’d somehow triggered their first shift late in life. None of it helped.

There, she finally found what I'd left for her. Inside were property deeds in her name, contracts for several shops as gifts, the most secure gold investments, and a handwritten letter from me. Lily ripped the letter open in her excitement. Fat teardrops rolled down her cheeks, splattering onto the paper. I told her I'd taken care of everything for her. She wasn't a maid anymore. Now, she was a free werewolf, able to go wherever she wanted and had nothing holding her back. I also warned her not to rush into finding a mate.

I went to the inner room to check for a book that could be of help at all. In the dim light of the library hall, I wandered through the aisles, my fingers trailing along different volumes of books. The air was thick with the scent of dusty and old paper. As I turned a corner, an old, leather-bound book caught my eye. Its name cover was wrapped with strange design that seemed to shimmer faintly from the rest. It was the eyes of the rarest species of werewolves...... The white wolves. Curiosity got the better of me, I pulled the book from the shelf and opened it.

Unfortunately, It's apparent that during my summer vacation, I will live in the very place that has impacted my life more than words could fathom alone. The dream... the reality of what occurred one fateful night many years ago is bound to become a reality again, but there is nothing I can do besides cross my fingers and hope for the best. Hoping that night was really a dream, after all. The night where it all began. The night when I was attacked by a monster... The night I was attacked by a man shifting werewolf. With my legs snuggled against my chest and arms wrapped around them securely, I yawn for a bit then tilt my body closer to the window, wincing at the slight pinch of pain that pull

she continued. I didn’t wait for further directions and headed that way. Sara was right. The library was crammed with books so rare that I didn’t even think they existed. I ran my fingers over them and stopped at the supernatural section. Werewolves. The variety of these books was astonishing. A Hidden History or Under the Full Moon. But the one that caught my attention was The Grim Howl.

Dannie picked up another joint from her room and went to the library. Among the ancient books was one of the largest collections of werewolf history in the world. If there was anything on Balric or the black book it was there. She gathered a variety of titles that looked promising and lit the joint. Taking a hit, Dannie opened the first book. Inside was mostly what she already knew.

She filed away the thoughts. "So how were your classes today?" She changed the topic. "Boring," came the immediate reply in unison. ~*~*~ [Xavier] The library in their mansion was a cavern of ancient books and manuscripts. It contained the earliest recorded manuscript of the werewolves as well. He was sure that he would find something of importance here, it had to be. While the library on the campus was oriented towards catering to the research works of the students, most of the ancient books, the ones which are no longer published were shifted to the mansion library.

They were too great in numbers. The loud chattering of the curious crowd became silent as we saw our leader Bazaar Wharr accompanied by 7 of his strongest werewolf hunters. Werewolf hunters were the ones who search for werewolves and capture them so we can learn about their weaknesses. Over the years they have managed to find one weakness of them and that was metal or the piece of iron I saw within the werewolf boy I foolishly saved years ago. It can weaken and kill them if aimed at the right spot of their body. All eyes gazed upon Bazaar a 40-year-old white hair and dark eye man. He was in his armour with his sharp sword at his side. He was quite fit for his age and looked younger.

I can smell it. It’s strange that she isn’t lashing out her magic at me, but I’m grateful for it. I have no defense against magic, and if I go back to my pack with magic-inflicted wounds, there’ll be a barrage of questions I’m in no mood to answer. The rift between Werewolves and the magical folk is wider than ever at the moment. “I’m going to take my jacket off and give it to you. Seems like you need it more than I do.”