The Whisper Man Novels & Stories

“I won’t tell you anything, and no amount of torture will change that. You might as well tear my heart out and get your revenge. I’ll let you in on a little secret, though. Killing me won’t bring your dead daddy back to life.” Nox’s snarl echoed throughout the barren room, cracking off the metal plated walls. He stood over her, radiating pure fury and the kind of dominance that had me clenching my legs. “No, but it’ll sure feel good. You might not give us answers, but I’m willing to bet anything you’ll beg once the fun begins.” A shimmer of color appeared across the room, and I hissed through my teeth. “Why do you need to be here?” The Whisperer leaned against the far wall, his arms folded o

“You have inherited a whisperer wolf, but still, you can’t break the blood vow. Only a female whisperer wolf can do this. And she must be trained well to perform these legendary spells, Liam. The powers of your wolf are very complicated, there is a reason why you are the last whisperer wolf alive in this world.” Me, whose stomach was flipping while concealing my secret, blurted out. “A normal wolf can connect to his human after sixteen or eighteenth birthday, but a whisperer wolf can speak to his human side after 20th birthday. Isn’t it strange?” Liam’s eyes widened as he gaped and turned to see me. “How do you know that I started hearing whispers after my 20th birthday, sister?” Shoot! My t

Maybe— The man reached out, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear before trailing his fingers down her arm. Sienna tilted her head slightly, letting the touch linger, her body language relaxed, almost inviting. Then she whispered something, her voice too low for Ethan to catch, but whatever she said made the man chuckle—a deep, indulgent sound that made Ethan’s skin prickle with unease.

Whisperer was one of those men who had no real value to society in terms of constructive efforts. But if you needed to know who killed who, who fucked who, who cheated who, and the when or where for any of these questions, you come to the Whisperer. He was a friend to everyone but belonged to no one. Mischief had forced a conspicuous stoop on him. And for whatever reason, he was always spooky. If he wasn’t scratching the back of his ears, he was slapping his thighs continuously— all while looking left-right.

"Please, someone, help me. I can't see. It's so dark." Amon's shadows pushed into the room first, illuminating it. The Whisper materialized in the center; it was a vaguely humanoid shape made of compressed sound waves. When it saw us, the woman's voice distorted into something cracky. "Help. Me. Please." Then it lunged. Amon caught it with his shadows, but the creature was slippery and hard to hold. I moved in from the side, and my knife found its core. It was a frequency generator. The blade struck true. The Whisper's form destabilized, sound waves scattering in all directions before it dissolved completely.

Loud laughs and hoots of encouragement rose from the crowd watching, as they found my humiliation very entertaining. She lowered her head close to mine and whispered. “I wish you would cease to exist.”

He whispered against my ear. A shiver of excitement ran through me which immediately released my hold on him. “Good girl.” He whispered before kissing my neck. I drifted off to sleep before Damian returned. Small waves lapped against the sand as I stood watching them. The sound of wildlife around me filled my ears. The waves swooshed louder and became bigger. Quickly swishing passed my ankles and sent ice cold waves through me. I tried to back away but I was held in place. The sand was swallowing up my feet and holding me in place. I tried to thrash and pull my way out, but I couldn’t move. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. As soon as my eyes closed, the sand released me and the crash

Her hair was shot through with streaks of silver-white, and her eyes were glowing with a steady, eerie luminescence. "You look beautiful, my Queen." Rhea spun around, her hands instinctively coming up to strike. Standing in the middle of the frozen stream was a man—or something that looked like a man. He wore tattered leathers, his skin scarred and marked with the same silver veins that Rhea carried. He was a rogue, one of the outcasts who had been living in the shadows of the Whisperpine for decades. "Stay back," Rhea warned, a low hum of power vibrating in the air around her.

The thought snapped something inside me. I came hard, sudden, and violent. My knees buckled. James’s arm across my stomach was the only thing keeping me upright. My pussy clamped down on his fingers in frantic, rhythmic pulses. Fresh wetness gushed out, coating his wrist, dripping onto the polished floor between our feet. I couldn’t stifle the sound completely—a choked, desperate whimper that blended into the saxophone’s wail. The silver woman’s eyes widened further. Her lips formed a perfect, silent “oh.”

However, for some strange reason, Dan had an abundance of this rare merchandise and told Mane so. Mane didn’t ask him anything about it though. It seemed that is was related to Dan’s past, since he always had a look of longing on his face whenever he used it. It wasn’t in his place to pry into Dan’s past. So Mane kept taking it and taking it, until it reached a point where he was eager to take it. And when Dan stopped offering it to him, Mane was the one who began asking for it. In other words, Hildegarde was right. Mane was now an addict and an avid lover of the substance known as Lover’s Whisper. “So, you beat up Tito and his gang,” Dan smiled and said?