Tristan Wren Novels & Stories

"Yes, I'd like that very much, mother. Although, I'm not sure what I can take with me." "I think we should just pack a couple of bags with your clothes and toiletries for you to take with you today. Anything else I can have shipped to you later." Wren nodded in response to what her mother had suggested. Then pulled her blanket back and got out of bed. After going to the bathroom, she brushed her hair and teeth, and dressed herself for the day. Choosing an ankle length floral print skirt in autumn colors with a brown leather belt and sandals and a mustard colored blouse with brown wooden buttons down the front. She also made sure to put her new necklace on her neck.. Looking into her vanity m

Triston shrugged his shoulders, shaking Jaxon's hand off, and then he turned towards the main building, "You should retire for the night, we have much to do by morning. The rest of the men watched in silence as Triston walked into the building, his shoulders squared, his head hung a bit low and his hands fisted. He stomped his way down the hallway and up the stairs, heading for his room where he could have this internal battle with his wolf and maybe then find a way to calm down. "She's not the one," he whispered quietly to his wolf restless within him, "She is not Damaris. Ivone is not my mate," he said in a whisper. He really needed to believe that.

I shook my head before returning to my resting position, thankful that she couldn't see my smiling face from her little show of magic. "Oh come on. That was awesome," She reasoned, laying across my back in an attempt to get my attention but I only growled in response. She giggled, "I'm sorry." I didn't reply, already knowing I was never mad at her in the first place. A few moments passed before she spoke again. "I'm actually a Syren. A full-out, mind-controlling, water-bending Syren. Wow..." I felt her body relax as her breathing began to level. Soon enough she was out like a log, snoring and all.

Aaron laughed, landing a punch on Tristan's face, causing him to stumble back. "Of course not. I knew you'd put on a show, trying to be brave, but the truth remains. You're a bottom-feeder, living off your masters' scraps. First the previous alpha of your pack, then Sebastian, Vincent, and Celine. You're avaricious and lacking self-respect," Tristan chuckled. "It would take me mere moments to end you, but I'll give you a chance. Impress me." 'Athena, it's not working. I tried sending a signal, but I couldn't directly connect to his wolf.'

"The registration tail number belongs to a shell company owned by Tristan Hayes. It seems your anonymous text message was accurate. The bastard is landing at the private airfield in less than forty minutes." Noah didn't look up from his work, his fingers executing a command that locked a secondary short-position on a major Hayes retail subsidiary. "Tristan is a creature of habit, Vance. When the main branch of a tree begins to rot, the parasitic vine that was cut away always moves back toward the trunk to feed on the remains. He thinks Adrian’s weakness is his opportunity to seize the crown."

His shoulders look narrow and weak underneath a fancy ivory ceremonial tunic, decorated with a fresh white peony flower pinned to his chest. "Hey!" he shrieks as we collide, trying to shove us away from his path. But his green eyes suddenly widen to the size of saucers the moment his gaze lands on Rowan’s face. "You!" "Yuck," Rowan spits out, her ears flattening in pure disgust. "Who in the hell are you?" I step forward instantly, using my massive frame to shield her entire body from his sight. "I am Tristan Whitlock!" He announces his name with a puffed chest, as if my wolf is supposed to drop to its knees in fear.

Tristan said and I felt bad for him. “Mummy's boy. Your mum will be fine. She is a Luna. She is a strong wolf. We still have a long way to go. You can't afford to get weary this early in training,” I said. “I know, Tate, but it doesn't make it easier knowing I still have a long time to spend here,” Tristan said.

"See that? She sees a male she likes and she goes for it. What about you?" Wynn looked genuinely confused. "What about me?" Fred let out a long sigh. "You're like a stone that hasn't been cracked yet." As one of the smartest members of the pack's younger generation, this was the first time Wynn had ever been told her brain wasn't moving fast enough. While the others were chatting, Trista headed upstairs to the restroom. On her way out, she ran into Rowena, who was adjusting her sleek bob in the mirror. Trista gave a polite nod, intending to walk past.

Kendall poked Tristan's belly with one of his fingers, imitating the voice he makes with a child or animal, pulling out sharp laughter from my friend. Tristan Walker was a real bear. Tall with his one meter and ninety-six, blonde hair at shoulder height, green-blue eyes and a physique that left something to be desired. His belly was perfectly round and heavy, influencing his walk. He never bothered when we talked about his weight, helped with the jokes and seemed satisfied with the attention he received. The cheeks were raised and full, flushed with the French bronze of his blood. He was a bear, but not like the real ones, who attack and are furious. Of those in which you see in advertisemen

Tristan Blackmoor stands inches away from me, his breath reeking of cheap whiskey and panic, his eyes bloodshot with pure, unadulterated desperation. "Did you run to Lucien Varkane and spread your legs just so he'd send his enforcers to slaughter my pack, Xender?" Tristan sneers, his thick fingers digging brutally into my shoulder, trying to force me down onto my knees. "You think because you're wearing his mark, I won't drain every drop of Stormriven blood out of your neck right here?"