Werewolf Free Novels & Stories

He spots Jimmie and pauses. “Good to see you back on your feet, pup,” he says with a small, rare smile. “Thank you, Franco,” Jimmie replies softly. But Franco’s smile fades quickly. He turns to me, jaw clenched. “There’s been another attack. Midnight Reaper. This time it’s worse.” I stiffen. “Midnight Reaper?” Jimmie echoes. “What is that?” Franco answers, “A rogue. A sick psycho werewolf. Killing humans.” “Nadia?” Jimmie asks again.

Without hesitation, Alex's protective instincts kicked in. The sight of an innocent life in danger reignited his strength. He could see the intention to shoot in the men's eyes. With a burst of speed and power, he rushed forward, determined to save her. The scene erupted into chaos as Alex threw himself into the fray, With a roar, Alex lashed out, his claws raking across the concrete pillars, leaving deep gashes. He smashed car windows and hurled debris, each act of destruction, his primal fury unleashed once more. The men were caught off guard, their bullets missing their mark as Alex moved with supernatural agility. He fought with a ferocity that only a werewolf could muster, his red-shot

“The Blackwood pup is about to awaken! A stage has been set up at the Sacred Ridge so everyone can witness the birth of a Divine Werewolf—a once-in-a-century event! If you don’t head over now, you’ll miss it!” The Beta tore free from my hand and disappeared into the crowd. “This isn’t right!” Kaeren scooped me up with ease and flew toward the Sacred Ridge. An Omega Black Werewolf shouldn’t be able to fly that high, but Kaeren could.

For Nicholas, the barcode was a blessing in disguise when because of it, all the werewolves were prohibited to do bad things, not just for their kind but for the humans as well. For that same reason, furious and hungry wolves, who love to stain their sharp claws and fangs with drops of blood, especially those ruthless alphas and Lunas have been dormant for years similar to a puppet. And he hasn’t heard any news about those merciless killings, colonization of other packs, and those unreasonable tortures all over the city.

Unsure at first she crinkled her nose, but the scent soon grew so strong and unmistakable. Tara shifted her gaze to the thick undergrowth and trees by the left of the gravesite several hundred meters away. She caught three human shapes hidden inside the bush, away from sight. Anger surged through her, making her shiver visibly. The impossible had happened. Wolves! Werewolves have somehow entered into the country escaping their radar, and they even had the guts to come to her grandmothers’ burial!

The werewolf mentioned, noticing her fingers were bare of any jewelry. "I'm not fully their kind, at least not yet." She replied with a shrug. There was a brief silence. The werewolf sank his thumb and index fingers into the corners of his eyes. He was thinking, calculating. "You are sure it is happening today?" He asked, dropping his hand, and looking at them. Sadness and anger loomed at the depths of his eyes. "Yes. You can trust me." Freya replied, touching her chest as if to communicate her sincerity the more.

She looked like she was about to pull that spear out of her ass and thrust it right through him. Lucy This was puzzling. Kali had finally answered who freed her, but those were names I had never heard before. She still didn’t explain why she was in fear of Freya, or why Freya was upset about the tale. She seemed all worked up, then suddenly calmed, taking deep breaths. I opened my mouth to ask another question, but never got beyond the intake of breath as an auburn wolf approached cautiously before turning around, disappearing back into the woods. Next, a black wolf followed, vanishing full sprint into the house. What in The Creator’s name was going on here? Where those … werewolves?

I hoped that my eyes were playing a serious prank on me I turned backwards and there was no longer a dog, but a man, I tripped and fell to the ground, while he stood just at my foot, and stared deeply into my eyes I stared back at him, with a shaky body Fear was painted all over my face, when I realized that, he had same grey eyes as the dog, Oh no! He is the wolf! No, it can't be…werewolves aren't real' I said to myself 'They're Fictional, they aren't real'

“Winter, if she was pushed off of a cliff, he didn’t kill her. Werewolves can’t die by drowning. It might cause them some discomfort. But they’ll still come out of it alive. Didn’t you hear what Roman told me?” Winter shook her head. “Sorry, I was a little busy distracting myself with clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a closet like that before.” “Me, either,” said Nora, smiling, “but Roman told me that a werewolf could only be killed by a few things. One of their own kind, fire, and silver blessed by a priest.” Winter glared. “It doesn’t matter. It was cruel. He shouldn’t have done something like that.” “It wasn’t Ares.”

The usurpers didn't need to command loyalty; they merely needed to ensure that the packs were too busy fighting amongst themselves to ever consider uniting against them. Propaganda, too, played a crucial role. Pamphlets, crudely printed but widely distributed in werewolf settlements, depicted Queen Elara and her lineage as weak, decadent, and ultimately responsible for the kingdom’s current instability. They were painted as creatures of human sentimentality, incapable of understanding the primal needs and fierce independence of the werewolf people. One particularly vicious pamphlet featured a crude caricature of Elara, her eyes wide and vacant, surrounded by images of chaos and famine, with