Whispers In The Shadow Novels & Stories

A whisper that feels like it’s more inside my head than in the real world. “Leave her,” the voice hisses. The shadow hovering over me undulates in what can only be irritation. An answering whisper, higher pitched than the first, replies, “But she is so bright.” The first whisper grows harder. “The witch wants her alive. He must receive his payment. Leave her.” The witch wants her alive. His payment. Goddammit. That motherfucking Comic-Con piece of shit. He sold us out. Frost appears from nowhere like a shooting star. His pale hair flutters around his hard face as he launches at the shadow above me. I watch, equal parts horrified and mesmerized, as he slams into the shadow and both of them cr

Really looked. At the fear in his eyes. At the helplessness he was trying to bury beneath anger. And I whispered softly— “I’m still here.” Then— my fingers touched the shadow’s hand. And the world went white.

"That's how betrayal works. It comes from the closest places." I looked back out at the pack. At the faces I was starting to recognize. Starting to trust. Now… I wasn't sure what that meant anymore. The Shadow was dead. But his daughter – the Whisper – was still out there. Watching. Waiting. And this time… we weren't hunting something in the dark. We were standing in it. And now – the real hunt begins.

It threads around the hex, digging between it and my aura, prying it away from my throat bit by bit. The binding fights back. Needles of black light stab into me—into my lungs, my ribs, my spine. Images slam into my head. Not mine. Blood on stone. A woman screaming. A man shouting orders in a voice I know and don’t know. Moonlight hitting a bassinette. Hands lifting a baby wrapped in something soft. A shadowed figure leaning over with eyes like cracked glass and a smile carved sharp and wrong. “Such a pity,” sthe shadow whispers. “All that power wasted on the wrong side.”

“Could be any book.” “Or it could be the book,” Anna said firmly. The Shadows Return As they stood there, a faint sound reached their ears—a whispering, like wind rustling through leaves. But there was no wind, no movement. The library felt unnaturally still. “What is that?” Ryan asked, his voice tense. The whispers grew louder, forming indistinct words. Anna strained to listen, catching fragments. “...not over... still bound... return...” Mia backed away, her hands shaking. “No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening again.”

Lightsticks beamed brightly in the darkness, flooding the space with vibrant hues. "Silence speaks for those who listen." Kyle's magnetic voice came through as he jumped down the swing. The music gradually grew louder. "This song tells the story of a boy who took forever to understand the whispers of his silence, finally losing the girl he loves," he continued. "Hope you'll enjoy it."

His mouth crashed against mine, demanding, devouring, and I arched into him, my body betraying every ounce of resistance I’d pretended to have. “You’re mine tonight,” he growled against my lips, his voice low and edged with that dangerous promise I’d come to crave. His free hand slid down my side, fingers digging into my hip as he pulled me closer, grinding his hardness against me. The thunder rolled overhead, masking my moan as his teeth grazed my neck, biting just hard enough to send a shiver of pain-laced pleasure through me. But he wasn’t alone. I felt them before I saw them—shadows emerging from the treeline, their eyes gleaming with the same feral hunger. Three of them, circling like w

I wandered, fingers trailing along spines, until a thick, aged tome caught my eye: The Rift: The Blood Feud Between Shadowmoor and Nightfang. Curiosity burned. I sat, flipping through tales of broken treaties, stolen land, and one chilling entry about a Luna from Nightfang who was assassinated by a Shadowmoor spy. No wonder these packs hated each other. “I wouldn’t start with the war crimes,” a voice drawled behind me. “The poetry section’s less likely to give you nightmares.” I looked up sharply. A woman leaned against the bookshelf, arms crossed, expression wickedly amused. She wore combat boots, a half-buttoned uniform jacket, and a smirk that could slice steel. Her dark blonde curls were

It was like I was half awake. As though I was there, but not really. I could feel the jostling and movement, but my head felt so heavy and sore. I could feel myself drifting in and out of nothingness. From the darkness, I heard a howl. It almost seemed to confirm my demise. I tried harder to escape the dark prison I was in. The tiniest shaft of glowing light entered my mind. I tried harder still when I heard another howl, but it seemed to be further away.

Angel was self-conscious of her attire in the restaurant people were looking at her oddly. When they were led to the private dining room that really drew attention. Justin heard the whispers of ‘Who is she?’ “Wonder who she’s dating?” There was, of course the snide comments he overheard on her attire as well.He was glad Angel didn’t appear to have let any of it bother her. Angel wasn’t stupid or deaf she’d heard the comments, but she’d grown a thick skin over the years, what people thought or said didn’t bother her.