Unnatural Instinct Novels & Stories

what? Instinct? A shiver of self-loathing runs through me. My father’s greatest lesson was that instinct is a lie. That the wolf inside is a base, stupid creature, and that a true Alpha rules with his mind, with cold, hard logic. And my logic just bet the entire pack on a pair of arresting green eyes and a cocky smile.

An animal roused by evil intent, motivated by a single goal that forbade compromise or compassion. I hardly had time to realize they were going to assault me in cold blood when the first attacker leaped forward with a fierce thrust. Against these alien predators, my instincts begged me to run, seek refuge, and find support. But something deeper, more primitive in my brain realized that I would never be able to evade what was after me. Simply said, they wanted to leave no witnesses. I wouldn't be saved merely because I pretended to be ignorant, whatever covert plans had put a target on my back.

Now it was reaching for the oldest language our bodies knew. Every nerve in me lit at once. Instinct crashed through the bond in hot, feral waves—territory, mate, moon, bite, chase, guard, stay. It would have been easy, for one terrible second, to let that flood become law. To drop into the wolf without witness. To tell myself that the most primal thing in me must also be the truest. But the black heart wanted exactly that. It wanted all the old violence hidden inside instinct to wake up first and ask questions later.

" I asked him. I needed to know who tried to kill me. " Those are what we call rogue wolves. They are wolves who have not learned to control their animal instincts. They shift and are unable to shift back. They lose all sense of what is right or wrong. They seek to kill anything in their way, wolf or human. One slipped through and had gotten into the forest. Why did you go into the forest anyway?", he asked me. " I'm not sure. I remember waiting by your car, then I smelled honey and felt a pull. Like I felt something hurt. " I explained, although I was probably sounding stupid.

“I can always see through others at a glance, but they can't see through me. I'm good at putting on a disguise and hiding myself. I can be harmless to people and animals, be docile and gentle. But the prerequisite is that they don’t hurt the people I care about. Whether Mr. Larson committed suicide or not, he and Lydia… and the masterminds have gone over my limits.” Natalie subconsciously gulped. For some reason, Summer sent chills down her spine. The second personality was often characterized as the evil side, like Mr. Hyde from the Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. “I forbid anyone to hurt my child, my husband, and my family.” “Everything will be fine.” Natalie gently embraced Summe

That raw, unfiltered, primal energy that made my instincts twitch like I was standing in front of something wild and untamed. He wasn’t doing anything. Just leaning in, breathing the same air. But my pulse was suddenly doing parkour in my neck and my mouth was dry. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. It was that same instinctual thrill you’d get if you were face to face with a leopard in the wild—well-fed, maybe, but still looking at you like it hadn’t ruled out dessert. Even if there was glass between you and the claws, your body still clocked that you were in the presence of a predator.

He takes a sit on the chair from his desk instead, placing his head on the foam. “For days I stayed away. Do you know what survival instinct is? When you’re drowning and there’s a battle for air because you just have to.” I find myself nodding to his words as our eyes lock in across the room. “That’s what it is with you. Instinct. I can’t fight it because it’s in my blood. Wired in my mind.” I shudder and he continues. “Do you know what it took to stay away when all I ever wanted to do was fight? You can’t struggle with instinct. It kills you. Literally. But I did. I went against every pull to you. Know what?”

my inner voice, a manifestation of my instincts trying to protect me? I closed my eyes, shutting out the world around me, and allowed myself to delve deeper into this newfound revelation. In the recesses of my mind, a presence stirred—a primal force, fierce and loyal. It was as if a dormant part of me had awakened, a connection to the wild and untamed.

I knew she did not understand our system so I decided to explain it to her. "A rogue is a wolf that has been cast out of their pack. It is like existing without a family and root. While some become feral, some of them find a way to exist outside their society. The fact that these men have no pack means they cannot be traced," I told her, and she nodded. "In that case," she began, "Can we approach this issue as humans would?" she said, and I leaned back in my chair.

“You don’t believe that if they knew everything, they’d act differently?” “It’s instinct, ego, and pride that make that a near impossibility. Humanity's based on the concept that they are at the top of the food chain. But with the knowledge of the supernatural world, they instinctively destroy what threatens that. Calling supernatural creatures monsters, whether they are, is not the point. This takes their deeds against those creatures and makes them more palatable and rational. Here we are. Just go in and sit with her for a bit. Hold her hand, talk to her. She might not respond but I’m sure she’ll appreciate hearing your voice.”