Werewolf Smut Stories Novels & Stories

” Matt finished the story with a sigh. “Wow..” Charlotte was speechless for a minute. Not only the story was surreal but the way Matt spoke made it so much alive. It was as if she was watching a movie. His voice was really calm and soothing and he sure was an excellent storyteller. Matt gave him a smile and opened his mouth again, “Werewolves who believed the second story tried turning humans into wolves but…they failed…again and again… So, I’m pretty sure that the second version is not true.”

“Maybe, but I’ve heard you tell Kimi enough werewolf stories to know what you usually read, Rose.” I rolled my eyes at him and looked over to Kimia. She just shook her head smiling. “He’s not wrong, you know,” she said. I sighed. “You’re both against me! You don’t even read them!” “What’s there to read? ‘I locked eyes with him from across the room. The most magnificent man I have ever seen. His scent was so strong it made me drool. My wolf began jumping and calling him our mate.’ You have to admit, Rose, it’s a bit ridiculous.” Kamran put his arm around my slim shoulders and began playing with my black curls.

When walking on the road, he heart some noise up ahead, not only that, he sells various aromas, he stops and concentrate a bit, then he was hit by hundreds of kinds of smells, from horse shit to human sweats to the smells of alcohols and much more. Even when he direct his sights to the direction of that smells, he can see clearly the fire smokes of some wooden houses in the horizon, a few miles a way from here, and this crocked road here is the only way to that village. While Sigurd still going ahead to that village, he the first werewolf ever born in this world want to make them his own first members of his pack as soon as possible, for fear of being outdone by his other fellow competitive,

If he succeeded, he would be unstoppable… … but he didn’t, because in her reality in Fairbanks, Vak Smallchief is still known as the first werewolf in history and the only werewolf ancestor who receives 7 salutation howls on the nights of the Full Moon Feasts. Where did that leave Nikjin? “You are a beautiful sight to behold in wasteland such as this,” he said, appearing in front of her like an apparition.

m So upcoming books: Roberto and Zeth’s story Bruno Junior’s story (This is going to be very dark and depressing) Then….. a new Werewolf book, are there any readers who love the rejected mate troupe?

BUTTERCUP A rival wolf burst through the door, snarling with teeth bared, and his eyes were locked right on me. Draven moved faster than I could blink. He shoved me behind him and shifted halfway, his claws were out as he slammed into the attacker. “Stay back!” The two wolves crashed into the wall, growling and snapping. I grabbed a lamp and smashed it over the rival’s head when he got too close. Draven finished him with a brutal slash across the throat which made blood splash across the floor.

And love had chosen them back. The curse was gone. The packs were whole. And in Elara’s womb, a new heartbeat answered the dawn. The werewolf’s bride had become the werewolf’s mother. And the story, after so much blood, so much darkness, finally found its light.

Somehow the desire and need still hadn’t left his eyes. I signed, turning back to the now drained mojito. Apparently I’d finished it and not even noticed. This shouldn’t have happened. With humans, yes, it was possible that one bite could lead to desire and in extreme cases, obsession. Con of being a succubus. But it had never happened with another werewolf before. Is it possible what he felt was genuine? Maybe. Who really knew? It’s not like there were loads of other wolf-succubuses around to talk to. In my 300 years, I’d met one other, and she met an unfortunate end thanks to a couple vampire hunters and a stake in the 1870s.

The smell of sweat and dust drifted on the air. They were all there—the future of Crescent Moon. Warriors in training. Wolves with strong bloodlines and stronger tempers. Wolves who never forgot to remind me I was not one of them. “Look! The ghost girl’s slinking around again,” a shrill voice called. I stiffened. Mila Rowan. Of course. I bent lower, pretending to study a patch of mugwort. Maybe if I didn’t react— “She probably thinks she’s out here making a magic potion,” Rose Ryder giggled, her voice sliding sharp like a knife. “What are you trying this time, Sammy? Something to sprout a wolf out of nothing?”

The wolf who once prided himself on pristine presentation now seemed entirely neglectful of pack appearances. "Luna," he called, stepping from the shadows between territorial markers. He clutched a bundle of blood-red wolfsbane, a traditional reconciliation offering. "I understand everything now. Though your mating with Dominic is legitimate, you bonded after knowing each other for merely a moon cycle. You cannot possibly love him. You orchestrated this to wound me, didn't you?" He extended the flowers, clearly expecting me to accept them as I always had in the past. I didn't reach for them, but responded with calm detachment.