Warriors Cats Rusty Novels & Stories

They just kept on coming at us like they were damn energizer bunnies. Despite the pun, they did, in fact, whip the absolute dog shit out of us. My entire body aches it will take Rusty a week to heal my ass up. But I didn't get the worst of it, though. I have been told that one of Brody's warriors actually did take a shit on one of my warriors after he killed him. Who the hell does that? Mother fucking werebears that's who!

They remembered the giant who hadn't thrown a single punch, yet had completely broken Participant 42. "Warden," Kael rasped from his cage, gripping the iron bars. The jagged scar on his jaw was stark white against his flushed skin. The Red Rust was building in his core, making his hands tremble violently. "You came back." "I told you I would," Marcus rumbled, his deep voice carrying a strange, heavy comfort in the nightmare of the holding pen. He stopped in front of Kael’s cage. "Hold on, old man. I'll take your shift if they call your number."

Scratching and probably drawing blood. There's my wildcat. ******************************************

But Jones knew the truth had to do more with the former Ranger’s interest in Voodoo, than it did with peace and quiet. A three-legged cat let out a loud “meow” as Curtis entered the dimly lit cottage. The place smelled of fried sausage and peppers, and the growl from his stomach reminded him the last time he’d had something to eat was a cold slice of pizza earlier that day. “Rooster!” Jones called. “Hey, Roo!” He deliberately made a lot of noise as the old man of his krewe had a blown eardrum from the war. Probably only one of a handful of soldiers whose Purple Heart was due to an exploding still.

Jake The man tied to the chair clenched his jaw when Jake opened the door and stepped inside. Nitro and K-9 were seated a few feet away from him, talking in low voices, each with a beer in their hands. “Wrath,” Nitro said. “I appreciate you keeping him alive,” Jake said. “So, it’s true. You’re not patched but you’re affiliated with these fucking Warriors,” the man said, and spat on the floor. The patch on his vest read ‘Pusher’ and ‘Member’.

“And if it comes to war, if James succeeds in turning the Alliance violent, we won’t fight for you. We’ll protect ourselves and stay neutral. That’s the best I can offer.” “That’s more than I deserve,” I said honestly. “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me yet.” Marta stood, and we stood with her. “You have work to do, Alpha. Years of work. Decades, probably. Rebuilding trust, proving you’ve changed. This is just the first step.” “I understand.” She walked us to the door, then paused. “One more thing. Your mate. The Luna. Is it true she was a werewolf?” “Yes. From one of the camps.” My chest tightened thinking about Alina, back home on bed rest.

Why were her footprints all over here when she claimed to be knocked off the whole time? Katya had to wait for a few minutes until she sensed their presence. Within seconds, four wolves entered the scene. They had different colored fur but their eyes were the same, Red. They were rouges, she knew that but they…they looked too healthy to be rouges. If not for the red eyes, she would consider them as just another healthy werewolf from a strong pack. Just like Charlotte said, they were huge. One wolf with sandy brown fur was carrying Charlotte on his back. She was passed out, her arms and legs dangling to the side and she was bitten. Blood was dripping from her leg, staining her jeans, or at le

Wishing for a scratch behind her ear? Sickening. The cat was already out of the bag, so Ronin made no effort to conceal his flickering eyes as Alastor stepped up on the other end of the fighting platform. About a dozen wolves followed behind him, dressed in black from head to toe as if they were dressed for a funeral. Ronin’s no doubt. They were in for a violent awakening. Alastor's bright red eyes gleamed in anticipation, his blond hair was pulled back from his face in a tight ponytail.

someone yells. Horns blast through the night. Warriors spill out of their tents, grabbing weapons, shifting into action, running. At the forefront, Damian's already transformed into his wolf form, his dark fur blending into the shadows. The rogues crash into our line like a relentless wave. Suddenly, the first injured start arriving before I’m even prepared. A warrior stumbles into the tent, his arm missing below the elbow, blood streaming down his side, soaking the ground. I grab him, pressing my hands to the stump.

Bracing my arms against his shoulders, I prepared to knee him in the balls but he jerked back away from me. Cooper’s eyes widened and he fell to the ground. That’s when I saw Rage standing behind him. Dressed in black from head to toe, my panties dampened at the sight of his furious face. I wanted to say something—anything—but my mouth turned dry. “Get up,” he said, his voice grave. Oh no. Dante wobbled over on his crutches.. There was no way I could stop Rage without Dante’s help. “Rage,” Dante warned. Cooper scurried from the ground. “Who is Rage?” Cooper asked. “And who are you?”