Therian Wolf Mask Novels & Stories

“I heard that the wolf meat tastes good and a female wolf like you is even more nourishing. If you don’t speak, I won’t ask anything either. In a moment, I’ll strip you naked and throw you in without washing.” The female wolf demon seemed quite young, around twenty years old. She had a casquette and mask on previously, so her appearance could not be seen. But now on a closer look, she seemed very ordinary, and there was even a slight ugliness. She had lines on the edges of her eyes that looked like tattoos, her lips were particularly prominent and her nose was slightly slumped. The female stared deadly at Ted and said, “Come over here, I’ll tell you.”

she added. An angry growl escaped his lips as he pinned her arms above her head, bending down so that he was right in her face, forcing her to stare right into his eyes. He felt an unknown wrath boil inside him. Something unfamiliar was putting him off but his wolf liked it. "The fuck you will." "Great, so we agree. The mask stays on?" She smiled tauntingly. "You like the idea of me fucking you with the mask on, don't you?" She turned her face away, a pink blush crawling up her skin.

he warned. In response, the man let out a mirth while slowly applauding, "Very funny! A mere Alpha wolf threatens me. What a day!" he suddenly wore a serious face, "Since you so much want to die, have fun with my men," after he said this, 3 persons- one of them female- dressed in matching merlot attires materialised. Unlike the man, they weren't masked and they had vivid black lion tattoos on their necks. They surrounded the group, wearing devilish smirks.

People in masks spun near the center, and even though it was called a masquerade ball, people didn't need to cover their faces—the masks were just decorative, some shaped like Lycan heads or skulls for dancing. Some people had painted streaks of color across their arms, and some wolves who'd shifted were challenging each other to strength games while vendors shouted over the music, selling drinks in tall crystal flutes. The scent of wild jasmine hung thick in the air. "It's beautiful," I whispered to Tova, and she handed me a glass of something whitish and sweet. "Wildfang specialty, supposed to calm your nerves," she said. I took a sip and it was bubbly and light.

The charity event requires masks, and when Brixton pulls out his, it's an intricate black metal design resembling half of a wolf’s face, as if the other half has been torn off, with teeth bared that look as sharp as I imagine they are when he shifts… if he shifts. “Are you sure that mask is appropriate for your species?” I ask, unable to hold my tongue or my curiosity about if he really is a wolf shifter. Not that I’m experienced in knowing other species well, or even wolves for that matter, but he doesn’t seem to follow the same hierarchy as everyone else around the Stones. He produces my mask, made of brown lace that leaves only my lips uncovered with wolf-shaped ears standing at attention

He looked every bit the Prince he was. His attire was impeccable, adorned in a tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and chiseled features. The fabric seemed to hug his form in all the right places, hinting at the strength and athleticism hidden beneath. His mask, a stark contrast to the darkness of his attire, depicted a black wolf with piercing green eyes, adding an enigmatic allure to his appearance. The intricate details of the mask enhanced his rugged charm, drawing attention to his sharp jawline and intense gaze. Despite the air of formality, there was a subtle hint of vulnerability in his expression, a flicker of uncertainty that betrayed the weight of his responsib

Lucien whispered as a servant in a white jacket approached us with a tray of hot towels and two silver masks shaped like wolves. "They aren't just people but they are the Unseen and they are the ones who paid for the privilege of watching the culling from the best seats in the house, so just put on the mask and try to look like you belong here before someone realizes we still have the dirt of the sewers on our boots," I replied as I wiped the grime from my face and felt the silk of a borrowed wrap being draped over my shoulders by a silent attendant.

Maybe because of him. Tyron stood beside me near the bonfire, wearing the most unbothered expression I’d ever seen on a man surrounded by pumpkins and joy. He had on a plain black shirt rolled up at the sleeves and dark jeans, and someone, probably Aria, had managed to convince him to wear a mask shaped like a wolf’s skull. It looked both ridiculous and fitting, in a strange way. He shoved his hands into his pockets and muttered, “Why do people enjoy pretending to be monsters when they already are?”

More wolves began to uncoil from the carvings, sliding free of the walls like ink coming loose from paper. Caleb’s voice cracked. “They’re the First Pack. The ones who swore the Oath.” Rowan swore. “Great. Tell them we’re friendly.” Ava took a step forward, mask in hand. The nearest spirit-wolf lowered its head, not in a bow but a threat, breath a cold wind that smelled of snow and iron. Its eyes fixed on the cracked mask, then on her. In the back of her skull a voice hissed: Return what is broken.

" You thought you could escape from me.... Heratte?" Sera's mind went blank and that's when she looks down to find the strange tattoos on Zander's chest shining. Stuttering... looking at him in disbelief, she asks. " Who...who are you...." Zander only growls, fanning his breath on her skin. Making her shiver. His next words made her entire body go numb. " Your death" . . . " The Death Wolf." And with this Zander's incisors extend to long canines. To only root right into Sera's neck and a scream leaves her lips as her blood trails down her neck.