The Wolf Of The North Novels & Stories

She could easily guess he was an omega in his pack. He roared with bloodshot eyes as she laughed at him. Jackson had run Into a corner as the wolf in front of him was bigger and looked stronger than his. Their colleague was frightened to death and was about to dial the police through the phone on the counter. Lucia gave Jackson a sign and he immediately hit a large frying pan on the girl's head. She fell to the floor. The wolf roared again while he gathered his strength. Without warning, he launched at Lucia, biting hard on her shoulder.

She understood the self-sufficient philosophy of her old pack, but this wasn't making sense. "Alright, so little shifter lesson for you. We are all governed by a council. The council is all retired Alphas. They look about eighty but most of them are more like two hundred. They live together in Northern Wisconsin. They make the rules, handle major disputes, approve new packs, they're pretty much our presidents. The only criteria to be on the council is having served as an alpha and being one of the five oldest wolves. So when one of them dies they know who's coming on board next."

*Alpha Zero* I held my ground as we waited for barely half a minute and listen to their footsteps get closer. Six wolves, but there is one who stood out from the rest. A big wolf in dark chocolate whose mane is thick and eyes as golden brown with a lengthy tail. His ears are perk and he snarled on the air as he approached. What a rude little wolf! "Identify yourselves! You are standing on the land owned by the Alpha of the North without permission!

She froze. A shadow moved among the trees, slinking low to the ground. Her heart raced as she crouched down to investigate. There, half-hidden in the brush, lay a white wolf, its body trembling in the dirt. Blood oozed from a deep wound across its side, staining the earth. Lia’s breath hitched. A wolf—no, **a pureblood wolf**—wounded in her forest? She was about to turn away when she noticed the silver scar across its eye. The markings. The same noble markings she had seen only in rumors. A member of the North. A high-ranking wolf. But what was he doing here?

He could feel them at the edges of his awareness, watching, guiding, waiting for him to step into the mantle they had prepared him for. Yet, standing before this council of elders and representatives of their rival pack, Auren knew instinctively that their respect would not be given so easily. And sure enough, the whispers began almost instantly. A lean wolf from the northern territories, known for the shrewdness of his mind and the coldness of his loyalty, stepped forward. His voice, filled with disdain, carried across the clearing.

“My beloved.” Cold washes over me as Nyxara steps from the shadows like a nightmare taking shape. She looks divine, terrible, and furious all rolled into one. Her gown looks like it was woven from the night sky, and her eyes burn the same violet shade as my wolf’s, except twisted into something cruel. “Get away from him,” I snarl, pulling Kael against my chest. Nyxara smiles. It’s the kind of smile wolves make before biting. “Oh, little wolf,” she purrs. “You think you can keep what belongs to me?”

He whispered to me. Beta Leo walked in. He closed and locked the door. "Shall we begin?" Alpha Zev and Luna Maisie directed everyone to form a loose circle around me. Beta Leo opened a massive book and began reading. "From time immemorial, our people have welcomed our new wolves with a ceremony to recognize our pack connection and strength. The Moon Goddess gifts us our wolves. We are stronger, faster and smarter when we work with our wolves. We honor the Goddess by accepting our wolves and allowing them to take our physical form and make it their own. We each must learn to respect our wolves, and our wolves must learn to respect us."

The northern border was a ridge of grey granite that jutted from the forest like the spine of a buried giant. Lira stood at its base, the early morning sun warming her dark fur, and studied the territory beyond. The trees here were different — ancient pines, their needles a deep blue-green, their trunks straight and tall as cathedral pillars. The air was colder, crisper, carrying the faint mineral scent of distant mountains. This was the domain of the northern packs, wolves who had lived in isolation for so long that they had become almost legendary to the southern territories. Hardy. Fierce. Suspicious of everything beyond their borders.

I still don't understand why Hera was stopping me from intervening. "We should go," "No,!" She replied and I found myself nodding. "He's my mate," Ivy suddenly cried out. A resounding growl echoed around the house and before I could blink, a black, large wolf with white furs at the crown of his head walked out of the room. I held on to Hera as the wolf stared down at the both of us. "Fuck off, Liam" Hera yelled. "It's a fucking command, Prince" The wolf turned abruptly and ran off. I almost dropped to the floor because my legs had turned jelly.

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