Thorns Novels & Stories

"Luna Silva? That’s just a wild, silver-veined variant of wild mint. I found it growing near the creek three weeks ago. It’s harmless." "It isn't mint," Francis snapped, his jaw tightening. "It’s a catalyst. To a human, it’s a herb. To a wolf, it acts like a signal fire on a pitch-black night. It amplifies your natural scent, makes it intoxicating. This rogue found you first because he was desperate, but he won't be the last. The moment I step out of this doorway, another one will come through that window to tear you apart."

“Hah!, stop spewing nonsense, he hasn’t found out about so many things that he should have known already, why would he find out about this.. Relax, I will handle everything,” A vicious smile splayed across those lips painted in deep red When you plant cactus, the thorns are an inevitable part of it, Even a rose isn't spared from the prick of a thorn.. All Hearts!!

I stretched my legs and a moan escaped my lips due to how comfortable it felt. I immediately covered my mouth in embarrassment and peeked at Sebastian who soon released a loud chuckle, making me blush in embarrassment. Taking a good look at his features, I realized he was one handsome fellow but he was nothing like the Greek god who beat me to this state. Sebastian was like the other version of Devon, hmm, I like the feel of his n...Sh*t, nevermind. Sebastian had a friendly temperament making anyone feel comfortable with him on first encounter. It was unlike that of Devon who had the aura of 'Don't come closer if you wish to keep living'.

Thorne: It had been five years since the death of his mom and abduction of his mate, and just as he had spent every evening since her funeral, Thorne stood before at the tree planted where his mother was buried, in her honor. The tree, a sturdy silver oak, stands tall and proud, its bark shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow. Despite being only five years old, it has grown remarkably fast, its branches stretching towards the sky like outstretched arms, providing a canopy of shade and comfort. The leaves, a vibrant green, rustle softly in the breeze, releasing a gentle whisper of wisdom and peace.

Thorns. Volleys of foot-long, diamond-hard thorns rained down on Ironwood’s soldiers entrenched in the streets. The thorns punched through Kevlar. When they hit flesh, they didn't just wound; they rooted. Vines erupted from the wounds, entangling the soldiers, pinning them to the ground. "It's not a battle," Silas whispered, watching a tank get swallowed by a sudden eruption of kudzu. "It's an ecosystem collapse. We are introducing an invasive species."

I braced myself, feet rooted in the earthy floor of the clearing, as he launched forward like a force of nature unleashed. His dedication to the North pack, unyielding and fierce, fueled his fury. With every strike, his muscles flexed, pronounced under the moonlight-a warrior sculpted by endless battles. Scars adorned his skin, rugged and raw, each one a grim chapter of survival written across his flesh. Thorne was not merely a fighter; he was a testament to the North's relentless spirit.

And I still felt unprepared. The carriage rumbled up the mountain pass like it was trying to shake me loose. I pulled the velvet curtain back and stared out at the jagged, frostbitten peaks of the Oathbound Range. The sun had already dipped behind the highest ridge, casting long shadows across the snow-dusted road. Castle Thorne loomed ahead—tall, skeletal, and utterly uninviting. Like something drawn from the nightmares of children who’d grown up on war stories and ghost songs. But I wasn’t a child.

“Yeah, I guess,” “We talking about Mateball?” Kairos and Maximus snapped their heads up to look at the door to Kairos’s room. Lounging against the door frame was Thorne. His bleach blonde hair had been freshly washed and toned. It stood out against his deep olive skin. He wore thick black rimmed glasses over his honey-gold eyes. “Yeah,” Kairos said. “You going? You taking History of Wolves or The Last Great Queen this year?” “Har, har,” Thorne rolled his eyes. “I’m taking no one. Unlike you two, I’m trying to not piss off the Queen.”

*Fear, not loyalty. She followed Elara through a labyrinth of corridors, down a broad staircase, and finally out into a walled courtyard garden. It was meticulously maintained but felt sterile – geometric hedges, dormant rose bushes stripped of blooms, gravel paths crunching underfoot. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and evergreen. Compared to the oppressive grandeur inside, it felt almost freeing.

Storm’s shield shimmered around him like a glowing sphere, bright enough to light the entire room. Blaise and I burst through the doorway at the same moment Thorn materialized beside his bed, power rolling off him like a tidal wave, thick and cold and ancient. The walls groaned from the force. Thorn’s eyes burned silver with fury. “I warned you,” he growled, voice deep enough to shake the floor. Doreana pushed herself up, cracking a twisted smile through the pain. Her hair hung wild around her face, and the expression she wore wasn’t fear— It was satisfaction.