Werewolf Bl Novels & Stories

Chapter 32. Victory Ryder stood with his soldiers at dark moon pack’s border, he clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes as anger pumped through his veins. The borderline was still a little bit far from the pack itself, but since he’s a werewolf, he could clearly hear sounds of dark moon pack members laughter, which seemed to make him grow angrier. “Alpha, it seems like there’s an event going on in their pack” “Which made it the right time to attack” Ryder growled lowly.

River answers didn't happen to me, I just remember the pain and then blacking out. "I never felt as free as I did when I went wolf, I don't remember what my colour was, I should have looked at my paws," Kyler whines, they went wolf and were conscious are they lying? "Yeah me neither, I didn't think of it," River answers him with a shrug before turning to me. "Who got your wolf to come out?" River asks me. "Uhh...alpha Rowan I think," I answer him, he sweet-talked my wolf, and things went dark before I went wolf, I can't remember shit.

I’m still having some fun and unleashing all of my repressed fucking rage on them. I stride over to my table of toys. I scan over all the different torture devices as if I were a young kid at a candy store. My eyes widen with a sense of glee as wave my hand over the various whips, blades, saws, and a large bottle of wolfsbane. Don’t want these lower life forms to heal too quickly. My hand stops over a large silver blade. This is a nice blade- nine inches of pure silver, with a serrated edge and sharp point, perfect for fileting meat. With werewolves, we can heal from silver, but if infused with wolfsbane, scars will be left. I think this is an experience Justin should remember…for however lo

It proved that Lucian’s sovereign sight is completely blind to our presence. The wolf survived because the blue-eyed warlord unleashed his old berserker rage, the Ancient noted, a low, guttural hiss of frustration vibrating deep in their shared throat. He passed his blood into her. They are bound now. The golden wolf and the vanguard leader are a single lifeforce.

Coldly. I saw my entire life with her in the blink of an eye with details more vivid than any dream I could have before. Because of it, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the clumsy woman looking at me with doe eyes and nervous teeth biting her bottom lip into submission that I’d endure everything I saw with her ten times over for just a moment of the love I knew we’d have. Even if it would take us a bit to get there, I knew it would be worth it in the end. For now, she’d have to be the werewolf’s assistant. The End!

For werewolves, the full moon is a sacred occasion. A werewolf pack congregates for their own rites in the same manner that humans might dress nicely and convene at a place of worship. The location where we meet for the Trialblazer pack is roughly an hour and a half northwest of Toronto. Two hundred acres of pristine territory where we can securely wander as the monsters we become every full moon were once home to a pack long before Canada was known as New France, at the time when our ancestors fled northern Europe in longboats.

Blaze Westbrook, the future Alpha of the Blood Moon pack, sat with his back against the trunk of an old maple tree at the foot of the cross mountain. It was not hard to see beneath the haunting of the full moon. The moon hung up high in the dark sky, bathing everything in a soft blue hue. The trees casted eerie shadows, looking ghostly but Blaze used his wolf’s eyesight to detect any movements through the dark forest.

Adrenaline surged through her, and she prepared to lunge—but suddenly, the sun was blocked out by an enormous, enveloping shadow. An extremely large black wolf leapt out of nowhere, ripping out the throat of the lead rogue in a single, brutal motion. He was a titan, larger and more commanding than even Ryder’s wolf, Blaze. He moved with a violent sort of grace, finishing the second and fourth wolves while Kalina tore into the third.

“Can you do this?” A hard wipe of a sleeve. “Yeah. Okay.” They stepped—two fire teams, bounding overwatch—under the dark skirts of the trees. The first hit fell. A massive werewolf dropped from the branches like a boulder of fur and teeth, smashing into Linda. Claws tore armour like paper. She screamed, hands scrabbling at slick hide. “Help me!” Tara’s scream ripped free as the others opened up—muzzles strobing the gloom. Rounds thudded; the beast barely flinched. It bit, wrenched—Linda’s trachea came away in its jaws; a red arc painted the pavement.

When we reached Alex and Talia, they both got up. “Congrats, Wulfric.” Alex put out his right hand to Blake to shake, and I had to do a double take when I noticed his pinky was missing and the skin was raised in pinkish-red rings around his other fingers, as if he’d been cut and the wound never fully healed. I didn’t even know it was possible for a werewolf to scar. “What happened to your hand?” Blake asked, clearly noticing the same thing right before he took it. “Lost a finger.” Alex gave a sheepish smile.