Werewolf Skull Novels & Stories

For now, she’d have to be the werewolf’s assistant. The End!

Hilda shouted in horror and dodged it. Keondra stood firm and swung her sword as the creature came straight at her. Blood splashed on her face and the werewolf crashed to the other side of the road in blood and wince in pain. The truck suddenly stopped and a man jumped out, his white hair flying with the wind as his fangs grew out. And above his ears were three little spikes that grew out of his hair with the middle spike being the longest. The tattoos sticking out of his neckline extended to his face as his eyes completely turned black.

But the four other wolves with me, helped me take her out of the destruction. The third one didn’t move. When I got closer, I saw the skull partially caved in. There was so much blood. There were a few bubbles forming where the mouth and nose should be. I screamed for another blanket or anything to support him out of there, and moved everything out of the way. But by the time it came, I’d heard the rattling of death bubbling out of his throat. There was nothing that could have saved him. This thought didn’t help me feel better regardless.

a vein appearing on her forehead as she began the chase again. Her father Joseph Knightley had thought her that Werewolves were one of the most evil creatures to exist, their goal was to eat and kill humanity and this was true. Every single wolf Clara had fought tried to kill her as soon as they looked at her. Only Alpha werewolves had their sanity intact while new breeds(betas) only had two things on their minds 1.Kill 2.Eat. However standing in front of her, A friend, a beta werewolf who seems to recognize her and refuses to attack, instead he runs away.

She cried helplessly as the shape of her bones began to change, her rib cage swelled and the bones of her legs began to arch, sharp fangs filled her mouth until she lost the ability to close it, with a sudden enlargement of her nostrils, and she began to transform. Appearing in another way. Half werewolf that it is. What you wanted from the start, that power you didn't get enough of, came at the right time. As soon as the change was complete, she lifted her head and held her chest high, and what happened after that was a strong snarl from her depths. Aleister and Kanai couldn't control the widening of their eyes, it was solemn. Aleister had never seen a werewolf of this size before, and with

" he asks firmly. "I don't know, I just got out," I try to explain but he is not having it. He grabs me by the collar of Alanis's T shirt and pulls me until we are out of the house and in front of Alby Crix's house. Alby is the oldest wolf in out pack and he is the wisest. He has all the answers. Werewolves get old, we can live for 1000 years or more but at a point we start ageing. Which almost makes us like humans.

A bruise was already blooming along her cheekbone where Lira’s fist had grazed her. He took her injured arm in careful hands. “Hold still.” He leaned in and, without warning, licked the wounds. Elara gasped. The contact was warm, wet, strangely intimate. She felt the faint rasp of his tongue, then something else, warmth spreading, tingling, numbing the worst of the pain. “What are you...” “Werewolf saliva,” he murmured against her skin. “Heals faster than anything human. Especially for mates.” He continued, slow, deliberate strokes of his tongue along each cut. The bleeding slowed. The edges began to knit together before her eyes.

It smelled of the sewers, of old blood, and of the grave. From the darkness of the tunnel, a creature emerged. It stood on two legs, hunched over, massive shoulders scraping the sides of the tunnel. It was covered in grey fur that was matted with slime and falling out in clumps, revealing black, scaly skin beneath. Its right arm was visibly larger than its left, pulsing with red veins. But the face... the face was the worst part. It was a wolf’s muzzle stretched over a human skull. The eyes were burning red pits.

Ares came across a little hill and stumbled to a stop before the body of a dying Werewolf. The enormous beast lay on its side, intestines coming out from its chest broken and slit through. The Werewolf was vaguely skeletal in shape as if malnourished, with naturally long limbs that sprouted from his shoulders. The eyes were just empty sockets on his face. His face was as if it was made from bones, the skin barely existed on it. He had long gone on.

Demenicus whistled and from behind the large pillars, sculptures, statues and standing armors, several Skull pack werewolves came out with sharp pickaxes and hatchets. The whole hall panicked at the sight of the scary Skull pack scavengers, with their horrid looking tattoos. Kate quickly attempted to run outside and call for back up, but as she ran out, all the guards were dead. She looked around but there was no one around to help. As she was still looking, one of the skull pack scavengers (as they were often called) named Vulture, dragged her by the hair. She cried out in pain as his sharp claws dug into her soft scalp. She could feel the hot blood oozing out, the sting of his claws in her