White Nights Novels & Stories

One such thing was Damien; he was out there somewhere, looking for me and hunting me for some unknown reason. But tonight has shown me one important thing. It has shown me that the safest place for me now is the Kingdom of the White Vampires. They are called White Vampires because of their fair skin. Damien is an evil wolf who does not give up easily, so I know he must still be hunting for me. And if the Wolves who attacked me are truly sent by him, then I am right.

But the moment I looked up, I froze completely at the reflection in the mirror. The bizarre wolf ears from last night were gone, and my eyes had returned to their original black. However, my hair... all of my previously black hair had permanently turned a stark, snowy white. Not only that, it had abruptly grown a significant amount—thick, voluminous, and flaring out with a wild, untamed nature.

But his Charger was his baby, just like my Harley was mine. I took the lead and River rode beside me, while Cruz followed us. So far, I didn't see any members of Nightshade or anything suspicious, but that wasn't to say that the threat wasn't there. But it was late, and Nightshade had probably finished patrolling for the night. One could only hope. But I refused to live my life in fear. We made a left turn, and the night was gorgeous. Hot already, even though it was nice. But wolf-shifters didn't feel the heat or the cold like humans. The stars were out, but the moon wouldn't be out again until the Summer Solstice in June.

Sitting in my chair, a waitress brings us a wine list. For me the choice is inflexible, so I wait for Alcina to determine her drink. When we're done with that and return the cards, I look at the woman in front of me. “Alcina, do you like your holiday in Midnight Moon? You know you can stay as long as you want. Our hospitality is indefinite”, I tell her. “Does that apply to all Midnight Moon guests or especially to me?” she flirts. “By the way, how often do you have humans visiting? I thought werewolf packs were closed to our kind, you are like a cult that is kept a scrupulous secret."

Rain and Pine mixed with iron—the tang of fresh blood. Kael walked toward the East Wing. A silver arrow whistled through the twilight. SHUNK. It buried itself in a wooden post inches from his head. A scrap of human skin hung from the shaft, inked in dark, foul script: THE WHITE WOLF IS AWAKE. THE PURGE BEGINS AT MIDNIGHT. From the treeline came a howl—not a wolf’s. High-pitched, distorted, the agony of a spirit flayed. The Scavenger Pack. The Council’s irregulars.

In the sky above, clouds hang low and unmoving, like the world is holding its breath. Is this what death looks like? A quiet world, untouched by time or warmth? I feel like I’ve been here before. In nightmares. In guilt. In the shadowy places my thoughts go when I can’t sleep. Then I hear it. A low growl. Followed by the pad of many feet—dozens of them—crunching softly, slowly. I turn toward the sound. Wolves. Not ordinary wolves. These are white. Larger than any natural creature. Their fur gleams like moonlight. Their eyes glow gold.

Sebastian’s POV I entered White. The loud, pounding music and the thick smell of alcohol and smoke instantly irritated my senses, crawling under my skin. Werewolves and humans were drinking, grinding, and dancing, their bodies moving wildly to the deafening beats. The air was heavy, suffocating, thick with sweat and lust. I dialled Laura’s number, but she didn’t pick up the phone. I scanned the area, looking for her. Some couples were already kissing hungrily, touching each other shamelessly. I spotted fingers crawling under dresses, women slipping their hands inside men’s pants, stroking them boldly in plain sight. At one table, a girl was already straddling a guy, riding him wildly, her sh

There were no streetlights outside Crimson Hollow, so once night fell, this area turned exceptionally dark and foreboding. If not for the fact that this person wore all white, it would be nearly impossible to notice someone was squatting there. After a while, another figure approached, gave the person in white a hard kick, and cursed, “Damn it! We’re out on a mission and you show up dressed like this—trying to seduce a ghost or what?!” From a distance, the white clothes really did look like funeral garb—especially creepy in a place like this. The person in white scooted aside and said lazily, “This young master likes it. Mind your own business.”

"You mean the actual moon? In the sky?" Nia didn't look away from the bone in my hand. It was warm. Too warm. And it was still humming that sad lullaby, but only Elara and I could hear it. Elara had her hands over her ears now. "I mean the magic," Nia said quietly. "All of it. White, black, grey. Packs. Marks. Wolves who shift. Girls who heal. Boys who run fast. The songs we sing to call the pack. All of it came from her." She pointed to the bone. "The First White. She fell first. She gave herself to the sky so we could have light in the dark. Her brother —" she looked at the sleeping man, "— he fell second. He wanted both light and dark, and the sky punished him for it. Made him grey. Curse

The white light that had exploded from my body didn’t bring peace. It brought a terrifying clarity. As the glare faded, the courtyard of the Silver-Moon Fortress looked like a vision from a dying god’s nightmare. The snow was no longer white; it was stained with the black, oily bile of the Elders. The Northern wolves who hadn't been swallowed by the sludge were whimpering, clawing at their own throats as if they could feel the invisible worms I had seen—the parasitic threads that bound their lives to the monsters on the stairs.