War Freak Novels & Stories

Thankful that I can't feel anything anymore. My name is Cassandra Wright I'm 18 years old and this is my story, my life. I am from the Crescent moon pack or should I say I was until I had to run for my life. The Crescent moon pack is one of the largest packs in America and has some of the strongest warriors. My father is a werevolve and the Alpha of the pack my mother was something different a hybrid vampire-witch. And what does that make me you wonder I'm one of a kind a werewolve, witch and vampire. I'm a tribrid.

His tone is a cold sneer, as his eyes burn into mine. Freak. My heart thumps as I stare at the bloody wolf on the ground. I’m not a freak. I am Azura Rayne Westwood, daughter of the previous Alpha of the Blood Moon Pack. Even though I was a child born in a way that played with the very laws of nature, I’m not a freak. I should be dead, but I'm not. “Freak. Freak. Freak” His men begin to chant only making the anger rise within me. He smirks, knowing it’s getting to me, making me yank away from his hold, my heart thumps violently as I snatch the weapon from his hand.

I didn't tell him that I didn't believe that was the problem, but honestly, I didn't believe it. "Who was the freakazoid?" I asked seriously, changing the subject. William sat down on the chair in the room. "His name is Marcov, he is a vampire cross wizard. He is a Russian hit man. But you take a risk in hiring him. He is ruthless, and there is normally casualties or collateral damage, but he always gets his target. He has a power not to be messed with. He is brutal and likes playing with his victims. He runs through partners like it is nobody's business, but even knowing this, females and males fall head over heals for him." He paused and cleared his throat.

The driver—a handsome man with long black hair flowing behind him—didn't meet my eyes, but the Asian girl sitting behind him gave me a friendly wave and a smile through the visor. The drive back to Crookshollow took almost an hour. I was completely tired of being in the car, and it was still another twenty minutes to Crooks Crossing, where my mother's flat was. I had an idea. My closest friend from university, Derek, lived in an apartment in Crookshollow. He studied English mythology as part of his English and History course. He had a computer I could use, and if anyone knew anything about werewolves, it would be him.

I was busy admiring the epitome of beauty when the teacher jolted me out of my thoughts "can you introduce yourself to everyone"Mr Williams asked ushering me to talk "right" I answered still not taking my eyes off the beautiful damsel "I'm joel frickson,I got a transfer from new city high to kimkelly high.I hope I make a good classmate to everyone" I said and the class got noisy again and whispers and murmurs were heard from the girls. Yeah I've got cool great muscular voice

“Thanks.” “Too perfect. You military?” Jake raised the sleeve again. “SASR. Sniper First Class.” A grin flickered. “Who dares wins.” They said it together, a laugh cracking the tension. “This is Zak,” Jake told Kim and Jane. “Zak—Kimberly. Jane.” “Pleasure,” Zak said, crisp. Then to Kim, lower: “Keep it quiet for now, but… werewolves have overrun the city.” Kim held his stare. “You’re serious?”

I rolled my eyes mentally as I manage to cry like this is the last day of my life. They are 6 feet tall as their skin started to decay, where you can see an almost skinless werewolf. They have this very stinky smell like a corpse. I didn’t even puke because I was already used to this kind of encounter. “Grrr…Growl” I acted innocent as they look at each other nodding. I grimace as I can read their minds clearly. “She’s a human. An additional victim, maybe her blood is unique.” The other werewolf rogue speaks.

If he succeeded, he would be unstoppable… … but he didn’t, because in her reality in Fairbanks, Vak Smallchief is still known as the first werewolf in history and the only werewolf ancestor who receives 7 salutation howls on the nights of the Full Moon Feasts. Where did that leave Nikjin? “You are a beautiful sight to behold in wasteland such as this,” he said, appearing in front of her like an apparition.

] It’s accompanied by the picture of a man stripped to his underwear and strung up the roof of Shane’s favorite spot—the container he prefers to call ‘purgatory’. In the wake of what just went down with Kira, I would prefer to go home and sleep, preferably after rubbing one out in the shower, but I drive over to the container instead. Wails greet me as soon as I open the door. It sounds like the man is being butchered, even though he looks alright. He may be a bloody mess with several teeth missing, but his limbs and organs are intact, which is a much better state than can be said about everyone else who falls into Shane’s hands.

Farok, Alpha of the Diek people of Walik paced his bedroom. He was supposed to be working, planning out his strategy. It was a cold world out in werewolf territory, and the moment his tribe seemed weak, or a little uninformed, the neighborhood tribes would have a field day with them.