Werewolf King Mga Nobela at Kwento

"Summon the Pack Council." The wolves around us all lowered their heads. A Pack Council judgment meant someone was about to be exiled. The Head Alpha didn't care about how pathetic Cynthia looked right now and scolded her without mercy. "We're building this center on our territory for the pack, for all our wolves. What gives you the right to say it can't open? And you're supposed to be an unmated female—what exactly is your relationship with Marcus?" He turned his stern gaze toward Marcus.

Everything went still. “What the hell happened here?” a familiar voice growled. I struggled to look up and saw Arthur, his eyes red and his face boiling with rage. He stormed toward the werewolf and jerked him up by his fur, his claws piercing deep into the man’s skin. The once monstrous wolf let out a cry of agony, shifting back to human form.

Arthur was in the cage listening to the noise, their prompting footsteps, the memory of the day his wolf family was murdered. On the day that the man in white armor appeared, the moonlight was also very round and huge, but red like blood. That night, in order to protect the territory, protect the young wolves and Arthur, nearly all the adult wolves were stabbed to death under cold-blooded spears and swords.

He would create a king stronger than himself. King Edgar made his sons stronger by sourcing power from a five-hundred-year-old ancient werewolf beast who had different abilities in his venom. He would inject his venom into their bloodstream in exchange for death, as he had desired to break free from his immortality and embrace death. The moment the ancient being transferred his immortality, he became mortal, and, as promised by King Edgar, he killed him with his sword. But the venom only manifested in Rhydian; the rest of his three sons remained the same, unaffected by the blood of the ancient werewolf venom.

The king's voice resonated throughout the hall, its lowered tones transitioning into a solemn and dignified pitch. All eyes turned towards the king. "As you may already know, Kingsley, the Alpha of The Shadowmoon Pack, has unfortunately passed away. His pack is now in need of a new leader, someone capable of guiding them towards a more prosperous and peaceful future." The king's gaze swept through the crowd, finally settling on a tall, imposing werewolf—Robert. His eyes exuded confidence and pride, as if he had long been prepared for the role. Seated beside him was none other than Grace.

Lazarus de Loughrey, the fucking Werewolf King. Just his fucking name had my blood boiling, churning a dangerous poison of enmity. The de Loughrey family is royalty, Alpha of Alpha’s and the reason werewolves rose to power. Lazarus was crowned king at a young age, something unheard of from what I’ve read. You would think a King wouldn’t bother with humans; his reign solely focused on his people. Except that wasn’t what happened, he inserted himself into our business and tortured humans for his own twisted enjoyment.

A man came out from the ship as he covered the alpha with the black cardigan followed by the transformation of the alpha werewolf into alpha male. “To the people of Fated Kingdom it is to announce that the King of Dark Spades Zackariya Hall has now become the King of the Fated Kingdom.” The man who appeared from the ship announced as Zackarya Hall came forward with his scrutinised gaze. “Kneel.” Another werewolf beside him transformed into a human as he came forward announcing. The people looked at each other as they didn’t have any other choice. They started to kneel in front of their new king as one of them spoke up.

the man said, too casually, "we didn't think the empress had such backing." Sebastian's eyes narrowed at them, "you don't dare look down on my wife." "She is a merely a pretty little servant to you, isn't it? It was a foolish thing to do to leave your precious empire to a female. Have you no pride?" "A wolf man has no right to tell a vampire lord what to do and what not to do." "Vampire lord," the man clapped his hands, amused, "what a title. We should nsme me werewolf lord, shouldn't we?" He turned to his followers and they laughed mockingly. Werewolf, Sebastian thought, they were wetewolves.

Then he left him to fall to the ground, trying to catch his breath with great difficulty "run, Mario, run and tell the council that Xavier, the werewolf king, is back, and he's worse than before." Mario looked at him angrily, then stood there, snapping his hands to make him disappear "We shall meet soon, Alpha King."

Vanir was Jacob St. Laurent, Vanir was the King of Vampires. That was the mantra that I repeated in my head as I made my way to work the next morning, the events of last night still replaying in my mind. Vanir had quickly made work of the newly mades that had come to cause a disruption in one of the human-vampire establishments, the gang of uncultured rebels routing when they saw their King of Vampires had intervened during their raid and then Vanir had drove me home in complete silence, not even bothering to explain or attend to the numerous questions that were raging a protest in my head and I hadn't bothered to let out the sea of questions either.