Romans & histoires Underworld: Rise Of The Lycans

That might have gotten you shocked, I know. My name is Jason and as you may have guessed, I am a male werewolf with a hidden past. A past which I had held in high regard and which I believe won't wash away. It was a very remarkable experience. The past experience was that of my past lover and I. We had been so loved up so much that I was shocked to the bone marrow when she died leaving me behind. Before she died, she had promised that she would be back to be with me once more. I had held on to that promise and looked out for her but I never did see her.

He bowed, then opened the door and walked out. "And if they do mate?" I asked him again as soon as he sat down, not bothering to mask how I was feeling. "Well, a Lycan's bite is lethal. Lycanthropy refers to madness. So she or he will go mad and die. Why are you asking all these questions?" "No reason; I just got curious. I may need to experiment on new ways to kill people who used to get on my nerves when I worked at the hospital." He snorted, "You may get punished though, but first, both of you need to get mated first for you to be able to kill anyone," he whispered suggestively.

Sullivan growls low in his throat, then clears it and looks away. Melanie sets her pencil down. "Yes, legends says that on a full, blood moon, the descendants of the first Lycanthropes can call on their ancestors in the underworld to rejoin them on earth. The pack will run together for as long as the moon is full, living and undead."

“How the hell am I supposed to find a virgin white omega werewolf that would want to have my child? Everyone sees me as a monster and maybe I am so who in their right mind would want to share a bed with me and then give me a child? What if it doesn’t work eventually? What if I never find a compatible wolf or worse I find one, get her pregnant and then I end up passing the gene? That’s a chance I don’t want to take. If I have a child, there’s a fifty percent chance they would be Lycan and live as a monster all their life. That’s a curse no one deserves.” “There’s also a fifty percent chance that they don’t become Lycan. Aren’t you willing to take the risk? If your Lycan takes over, it’s doom

Vera's Pov Daemon's neck was turning purple under Dante's grip. Blood poured from where the claws had pierced skin, pooling on the expensive marble floor. His legs kicked uselessly, eyes bulging as he clawed at the hand crushing his throat. Dante's fangs were fully extended, dripping venom. His eyes burned pure red, no trace of gold left. This wasn't the controlled Lycan king anymore. This was the monster underneath, the vampire-wolf hybrid that had been caged for years, finally unleashed.

Lightning's POV "The lycanthropes are taking over!” A paranoid werewolf screamed before a gunshot split through his skull. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless. My pack warriors surged forward like into the territory, tearing into everything that dared move. Screams filled the night, mixed with the thunder of gunfire, steel clashing, and the wet rip of flesh. The chaos was a symphony, and I reveled in it. The wailing, the begging, the desperate cries for mercy—they were my orchestra, and I their conductor.

My whole world narrowed to a haze of red, as the scent of blood overwhelmed my senses, coating fur and clinging to my form like a sickening, unforgettable perfume. When the moon finally slipped behind the shifting clouds, the last of my strength deserted me. A wave of bile surged up my throat, and I fought the urge to vomit. This was the last shred of my humanity, screaming in guilt at what I had done. Deep down, my wolf side relished in every drop of the meal. “We need to leave now." I mumbled into Layla's subconscious mind. “Give me more time," she grunted, snapping a bone and coating the remains with her saliva, as if leaving her mark.

I see him crouch low, body coiled, muscles waiting and ready to strike at the first sign of hostility. Then I see him. A boy. Probably a couple years younger than Casimir and I. But he was no ordinary boy...he was a Lycan. He's muddy and bleeding, his clothes torn, and his hair hanging in wet clumps around his face. He raises his hands, a broken gesture of surrender as Casimir looms over him with a glare. "Casimir," I pant, catching to them, "wait." The Lycan chokes out a few words, raspy and desperate. "Please. Not here...to hurt...Need...help."

That I’ve been thrown into a freezing river and I’m so far under the water I’ll never get back up. “The Werewolf gene is passed through the male line.” Cain explains. “Every male Wolf will produce pups because their genes are dominant. That’s why you’re not a Wolf because a female Wolf cannot produce pups with a male human partner. But with Sullivan blood, if you have offspring with a Wolf, they’ll not only be Wolves, they’ll be Lycans. Original Wolves.” I shake my head, shutting my eyes, burying them in my palms. “I can’t have children.”

“I heard you got your wolf late, that only means you would be powerful. A true gift from the Moon Goddess.” The next flashed a grin full of teeth. “You know, an alliance between us would shake the Lycan hierarchy. Imagine the strength our union would bring.” Another tried too hard. “I will make sure you never feel unprotected.. From vampires. From any creature who dares threaten you.” One smiled like he already owned me. “How soon do you plan to bear heirs? A daughter like you shouldn’t waste her prime years.” And then came the most irritating. “Your blood is rare. Together, we would create legends. Our children would command respect across every territory.”