The Wild Things Novels & Stories

The air felt heavy, charged — like a storm about to break. She opened a door to a small conference room. Inside, evidence was laid out across a long metal table like relics from a forgotten world. Three stuffed animals sat in the center — a worn teddy bear, a floppy-eared dog, and a lion with a missing eye. Beside them were stacks of documents sealed in clear evidence bags. Photographs. Shipping manifests. Financial statements printed on paper that had begun to yellow with age. Fifteen years of truth, hidden in children’s toys.

It wasn’t always like this. WildWood was once just a quiet, peaceful forest, nestled on the edge of a small, isolated town in Terrell. The land had long been sacred to the indigenous tribes that once lived there, revered for its beauty and tranquility. They spoke of spirits, of ancient forces that resided within the trees, but these were merely stories — tales meant to keep children close to home, out of the dark places of the woods.

In one swift motion, he loosed the arrow. The silver-tipped shaft sank deep into the wolf’s chest. The creature let out a sad cry, staggering, then crumpled into the dirt. Its body twitched once, then stilled. The forest went silent.

**The Wild Wolves** Aria meandered through the lush, vibrant forest, a world alive with an intricate tapestry of sights, sounds, and scents. Each step enveloped her in the rich aroma of damp earth and blooming wildflowers, the vibrant hues of greens and browns intertwining like an artist's brushstrokes across the landscape. Having spent the past few weeks in this enchanted new home amidst the towering, ancient trees and dappled sunlight, she had cultivated a deep affection for the tranquility and solace the wilderness offered—a cherished escape from the chaotic clamor of her former life.

I whisper hoarsely, my voice barely a breath against the overwhelming silence. The forest seems to close in on me, the once-comforting darkness now a suffocating void. I look up, hoping to see the familiar faces of my family, but instead, a low, menacing growl emerges from the depths of the woods. My heart pounds in my chest as a figure begins to materialize through the gloom. A large, black wolf steps into view, its eyes glowing a haunting blue. Its coat is sleek and glossy, a stark contrast against the dark backdrop of the woods. A white diamond-shaped tattoo gleams on its forehead, catching the faint light and casting eerie shadows.

But it had happened to the Gray’s; one of the strongest breeds of our kind. Though she had the signature silver blonde hair of a white wolf, Wilda had not turned or showed the signs of turning when she had turned thirteen, as most white wolves did. The situation had been of interest to packs around the Crimson Hills pack that was led by her late father, may the moon goddess rest his soul, and many had thought that perhaps she was a late bloomer.

Mother Serenity! Mary and the rest of the sisters ran toward the sound, some lagging back while others shoved determinedly ahead. When they reached the chapel, Mary drew up short, paralyzed by the sight before her. Warriors were everywhere. There were at least twenty, all dressed in battle gear, their faces unwashed, sweat drenching their hair and clothing. But no blood. They hadn’t come for sanctuary or aid. The leader held Mother Serenity by the arm, and even from a distance, Mary could see the abbess’s face drawn in pain.

His wolf doesn't appreciate the talk of other Alphas claiming mates, especially with Lyric's scent still sweet with the evidence of their recent bonding. "Relax, wolf-boy," Riley says, rolling her eyes at his reaction. "No one's suggesting a trade-in policy. Besides, dragons only mate with other dragons or elementals. Your little redhead is safe from their scaly clutches." Another roar shakes the building.

The road ended where the ice began. Killian slowed the SUV to a crawl. The tires struggled to find grip on the frozen mountain pass. Ahead, the Whispering Peaks pierced the dark purple sky. This was the border of the Old Wilds, A place where the King’s law doesn't reach, but the monsters did. “The heater is on full blast, and she’s still shivering,” Sarah said from the back. Her voice was thick with fear. She was rubbing Faith’s cold hands, trying to keep her blood moving.

Even the so-called beta didn't try to reach out as much as his son did. 'Raymond wants to rut with us.' 'Everyone knows that.' my wolf added when I ignored her first comment. I rolled my eyes. Even his sister was scared shit less of me. One time I threatened to chop off her liver and feed it to my wolf and it didn't take long before she cowered and ran out yelling that i was a Wildling and the name stuck in the mouths of others. "They are people who had to be excommunicated from their packs or covens because they could not conform to the rules. With us werewolves, it means they have lost their minds to their wolves and cannot function properly. They are more dangerous and wilder than normal.