Whit Novels & Stories

“Is it so hard to think that I just came to greet my new neighbor? Wendy“ He paused on my name, making it feel like a challenge. “Greet you in the neighborhood, that is.” My lips turned into a tight, serious smile. “How many times do I have to say this?” I snapped, losing my cool. “I'm not Wendy. I'm Whitney. Whitney Decodes. Wendy doesn't exist here.” My hands were balled into fists it took all my strength not to hit him.

he asked her as he aligned. Whitney sighed. "Don't bother. I'll start crying again!" "Crying?" Frank was left stunned—was he too late? Still, he pressed, "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Tell me who hurt you, and I'll murder them—I promise!" "What?!" Whitney did a double take but soon blushed. "What are you talking about?! I'm the village chief! No one would lay a finger on me around here!" "Oh… then what happened?"

she threatened, and he raised his hands in surrender. "They're always like this, don't worry," the guy on my left said, breaking the tension. I looked over and saw a guy with white hair, white eyebrows, almost pink eyes, and extremely pale skin. He had albinism, making him one of the rarest friends I had ever come across. Despite his unique appearance, he was undeniably attractive, with a well-defined jawline and a breathtaking smile. "I'm Kai," he introduced himself, extending his hand for me to shake. I took it, and he pulled me closer, throwing his arm around my shoulder.

But for Alex, he automatically knew who it was as he immediately recognized his white hoodie that got splattered with paint in the colors of the rainbow. He scrolled up and as the caption, he simply had a blue heart emoji. "Blue."

Sapphire said as she made for the door. “A white wolf? Of all the people to fall in love with, really mum?” Sapphire didn't turn or stop. She pulled the door open “Patience and silence are two different things. So many wolves are blind, it doesn't mean you should be too.”

She was also adored by the common pack, a relentless worker, and she looked magnificent standing beside me during the seasonal rituals. But Johnson Whitmoor was a flawless alpha prize! He wore almost no scent-oil, yet his natural male musk was intoxicating. The way his cheeks flushed, the way his teeth nipped at his lush, pink bottom lip—even his eyes were a piercing shade of winter blue I had never encountered in any forest. His thick dark hair fell perfectly over his collar whenever his head moved, and his voice was pure temptation. Imagine waking up in the nesting mound and having that face greet your beast every sunrise. Oh Goddess! I wanted him under me.

Groans filled the air as they began to disintegrate into soot, flowing along with the wind. “You’re welcome.” His deep voice reverberated as I walked towards him. All I could smell was his sinister scent as I closed the gap between us. He was more trouble than the others, his heartbeat faster than a car’s tires at the highest speed. He wasn’t human for sure. “Who are you?”

I yelled as I heard him chuckle. After making my way upstairs and into the room. I had that well earned shower, brushed my hair and put on some decent clothes. "Nice" I heard Chris's voice from my window. Chris?. How?. I walked to the curtains and opened is all the way, revealing none other than Cwisberg ( what is up with these weird names?). "Was this planned?" I asked in amusement. "Maybe" he said dragging out the word. I ignored him and went back inside but kept the curtains open. I pulled out the flower pot containing the white rose and my breath hitched in my throat.

Hollis breathed softly. Whitney was DEFINITELY enjoying the view. Hollis’ French pigtails accentuated her high cheekbones exquisitely. She was dressed from head to toe in warm, stylish clothing. Timberland boots, black jeans, and a white long sleeved striped shirt with an army green vest on over it. Her grey eyes appeared especially light today, and were staring longingly at Whitney’s trembling lips. Does she want this as much as I do? Only one way to find out...

“You haven’t seen any like ours, mister. Ours is special.” Tom and Rich stared at her, then past her to the sheltered structure. They looked closer: Miracle, a hand-stenciled piece of plank declared above the pen’s door. The snowy-white snout prodded at the wire, letting loose a snort. “White buffalo,” Jodean told them, and Richard’s daughter inhaled again with surprise. “They’re magic,” said Katie simply, looking to the smiling woman. “That’s right, sweetie. Some people believe they are magic.”