White Authors Novels & Stories

I ask almost whining. I wasn’t tired from my feet, heels or anything. If anything I was feeling pretty energetic, perhaps from all the alcohol I kept drinking as a way to pass time I was counting every single sip I took. But it was the jealous women and boring conversations and the hungry look that filled the men’s eye that disgusted me and tired me. “Are you tired?” white asked gently caressing my shoulder.

Chapter 77 Ciara's POV Two weeks later…. “It's so big and beautiful. I never knew white wolves existed anymore,” someone said in the distance as I stood there observing everything. In truth the white wolf was gorgeous. It had no spots or speckles of any kind. Pure white fur was it's coat and it glowed even during the day. Was that even possible? And yet it was happening right before my eyes. If only I had a wolf that beautiful…. “Darling, Ciara wake up it's time for breakfast.”

Lorenzo sat, leaning forward with his head in his hands. “What the hell is going on?” he finally asked. Drew glanced at Arla, silently signalling her to take the lead. He knew Lorenzo would not be happy, but it was going to be a hell of a lot better coming from her. Reluctantly, she nodded. “White knight,” she mumbled, trying to get more information from Maeve. “White knight?” he replied, confusion swirling before he finally recalled where he’d heard the term before. “Granny lent me some books on white wolves. There was something in one of them about knights, I can’t remember all of it though. Your wolves are connected?”

Vampires and werewolves had always been locked in a perpetual state of war. While vampire venom was lethal to some werewolves, it was Wolfsbane that truly endangered them all, leaving the werewolves at a constant disadvantage. Then, one day something extraordinary happened. A white wolf was born, marked with a distinctive white crescent on its chest. Remarkably, it wasn't an isolated event; soon, several packs reported the birth of similar white-crescent wolves. These wolves were not only distinguished by their unique mark but also by the extraordinary gifts they possessed.

Because printed across the worn cover in faded, uneven handwriting were three simple words. The White Wolf.

I asked her, raising my eyebrows. "Than you should also as about Emily." Mum said to me before turning. "Emily?" I questioned. "Isabelle's mother, we were all in the same pack." Mum explained before leaving my doorway. A couple of minutes later, my uncle walked in. The Alpha of Cresent White, Christoper White. He was a tall man with dark brown hair like my mother. He wore a white dress shirt and black dress pants and a matching jacket. He unbottons his coat and sits in the chair in front of my desk, reaching his hand acroos to shake my hand.

"What's the matter? My husband's the top dog around here. You really want to cross me, the big man's wife?" Her words hit hard, and the relatives' hesitation crumbled. A gaggle of middle-aged women swarmed me, yanking at my robe from all sides. "Stop it!" I yelled, struggling to get free. However, I could not use my magic against so many ordinary folks. My sleeve ripped with a harsh sound, exposing my pale arm. More relatives piled on, some pinching, some tugging at my hair. "Wow, look at that skin! Bet you've been charming the pants off the guys, huh?"

one of them asked, his voice warm and deep and fuck me smooth. Lunaryn nodded with a little curtsy. “I’m Lunaryn. The last white wolf. It’s a pleasure to meet you. My human is Alpha Daeira Seralyn. We just connected a few days ago when she turned eighteen. She was raised thinking she was omega.” Their smiles faltered. Grimaces bloomed. “Bloodmark?” the other asked. “Bloodmark,” Lunaryn confirmed, her lips tight. “Treated like shit. Beaten. Starved. No idea who she was. You know how they are.”

Can't wait to see you behind bars! I bolted for home. After texting a number that felt both familiar and strange, I stood in front of my mom's portrait, apologizing over and over. I lit a candle for her, then pushed the door open. There was Christina Harris, my sworn enemy, all decked out in a vintage wedding dress, smiling like it was Christmas. She grabbed my hand. "Come on, we've got a wedding to get to!"