Warlock Smith Novel Novels & Stories

Randy said. I snorted and reclined on the bed. "I don't know why my main readership is male, and they've requested me to write harem. But if one of the female leads were me, I'd report the male lead for bigamy!" Randy chuckled, "Skr, ruthless!" Having spent significant time with Randy, his delayed graduation had its merits. He stumbled upon my forgotten novels, and his favorite happened to be the one I wrote years ago. The sky, previously murky, suddenly turned pitch black as heavy clouds loomed. The shelter's lights had long ceased to function.

You said: she returned, but where was she? - Martha has two daughters and she left the pack a long time ago. I think it's because of your uncle Nicholas. He couldn’t keep his penis in his pants, and Martha, she doesn’t agree with anything, will say directly in front of her whether she was an ordinary werewolf or made of gold ones. Nicholas's wife, as far as I know, was a very kind, complaisant woman, she could not say a word against him. In principle, he was a good alpha, the flock did not say that he lived in abundance, but he did not live in poverty either. “Wait,” I pulled away, “my uncle was an alpha, then there was an attack by a flock of Citrinovs, but they lost, right?” Alina nodded:

That didn’t sound like some security peon with delusions of grandeur. At least they’d finally realized I deserved the attention of someone with authority. Because anyone that voice belonged to had authority, I had no doubt of that. The door opened, and three men stepped in. My nose twitched. My werewolf senses, the part of me that interpreted the presence of magic via instinct and smell and something I could almost taste on the air, went on high alert. Most of the magic was coming from the shorter man on the left, a freaky-looking guy with a handsome face that was way too smooth and expressionless. A warlock, maybe, because I couldn’t really place his scent, and he certainly wasn’t a shifter

They left the ruined foundation on the third morning. Nine wolves now — two more had arrived in the days before departure, drawn by the same borderland telegraph that had brought the others. A young male named Cade, seventeen and freshly exiled, still carrying the particular hollowness of someone who hadn't yet decided whether surviving was worth the effort. And an older female, grey-muzzled and deliberate, who introduced herself as Wren and offered no explanation for her presence beyond: "I heard there was something being built. I know how to build things."

I ask, my voice saccharine-sweet. “Maybe a piece of this ass,” one of them sneers in a disgusting manner. I smile at him and reach out to touch his arm. He lets out an instant howl of pain as he receives the worst electric shock of his life. I don’t even flinch but I let them hear the crackle of electricity coming from my hand. Pissing off a warlock is a bad idea. Even if she is half a warlock. I see them stiffen as they realize what I am, and the sudden wariness in their eyes is almost gratifying.

“No wolf can do that.” “Don’t you get it?! She’s not a wolf, you idiot.” “She’s a warg. That’s it.” I didn’t slow my steps, but my spine stiffened. That was the first time I heard it said plainly outside the Palace and it was disturbing. I turned down a narrower street where forges lined the walls with smoke rising thick and dark. The clang of metal should have been comforting and familiar but it wasn’t. The blacksmith, a scarred old scout named Torrek, looked up when I entered his shop, his eyes narrowing the moment he recognized me.

“B-but, how?” Mei laughed, amused at the look of bewildered shock on Jade’s face. “It’s a special skill I’ve had since… since…” Mei’s smile vanished. She seemed to be hesitating about something. “Since?” Jade prodded. “Well, you see,” Mei continued. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the beast gods. Well, I’m actually one of the seven stars of a beast god.” “WHAT? I can’t believe it! Which holy beast?” Mei raised an eyebrow, “Bai Hu.”

Along with her parents who I would be happy to resurrect. Sardonyx waved her hands, freeing the pastor from his shackles. Just keep this in mind. If you reneged on our agreement or try to sabotage the ritual in anyway, I’ll make sure that Morgan never live to see her birthday. I understand. I’ll do as you say. Once a warlock, always a warlock. The vampwolf witch snapped her fingers and in the blink of an eye, the pastor found himself in his church with his congregation cheering him on as if nothing had happened.

My warriors have arrived, and the rogues begin to retreat. Alpha- slaughter them Warriors- yes, Alpha. I check Scott. The wolf he was fighting has a hammer lodged deep in his skull. Scott nods at me. I don't think he knows me, or maybe he does.... we are huge. After making sure my brother inlaw is safe, we sprint in the direction of the fight. Growls and blood fill the air. The rogues stand no chance even without me participating in the battle.

Chloe asked curiously. "You're a smart one, aren't you?" Dagmar smirked. "The goddess always seems to bless Hellhound males with smart women. The gods know those males need them. You're right; myths tend to come from a truth albeit perhaps an embellished truth. Shadow Wolves are no different although I'm not sure there are any werewolves alive today who know the story.