White Walker Novels & Stories

I was just the healer, the obligation mate, the one Sylvan settled for instead of the one he wanted. Now, seeing Jessica's humiliation, I felt an unwelcome flicker of sympathy. I knew what it was like to be dismissed by Sylvan Thorne. "We need drinks," Emma announced loudly, grabbing my wrist. "Strong ones." She pulled me to the bar and ordered, "Wolfsbane whiskey. Double shots. Keep them coming." I raised my eyebrows. Wolfsbane whisky was one of the few things that could intoxicate werewolves. Normal alcohol barely affected us.

Mayra looked at me with a helpless and worried gaze while giving that glass to me. “My mother told me what happened to your birth mother before she died, Maddie. Ava Whitelock wasn’t an ordinary werewolf. She was a white wolf mated with the midnight black wolf. According to our ancient scriptures, the pup born from a white wolf and a midnight black wolf is called a direct descendant of the Moon Goddess, no matter the gender of the pup.” She paused and took a deep breath. The liquid was bitter, but I still drank it while listening to her explanation.

Her eyes were closed, and her chest was only rising faintly. “IS SHE ALL RIGHT? PLEASE TELL ME SHE IS ALIVE. I CAN NOT LOSE HER!” Noah screamed. One of the black wolves turned back to human form, it was Marc the alpha’s son, “She needs medicine, but she will survive alpha Grey. “ His heart calmed down a bit and he softly stroked Lola her beautiful face and planted a kiss on her forehead. He did a quick prayer to the sky thanking the moon goddess for sparing his mate’s life.

Someone gives him his gun, and he points it straight to my forehead. “You should count yourself lucky,” he whispers. “Someone still wants you alive. If it were up to me, you’d be bleeding on the floor right now, watching me as I take your wife and your children.” “You’re lucky I’m merely holding back,” I mutter. He lets out a laugh. Then, he holds his hand out to one of the men in the room. He hands him a syringe filled with a familiar bright purple pearlescent liquid. Wolfsbane, designed to incapacitate wolves and Lycans.

Two guards immediately stepped forward and dragged the weeping man away from the table. The White King didn't watch him go. He reached for a crystal decanter of whiskey, pouring himself a generous measure. As he leaned forward, the open collar of his white shirt shifted just enough to reveal a glint of platinum. There it was. Resting against his collarbone. A tiny, cylindrical glass vial filled with a glowing amber liquid. The antigen. I stepped out of the crowd and walked directly to the empty chair opposite him. I sat down, the velvet of my dress rustling against the silk upholstery.

"Everyone knows the Rivera girl is a rare white wolf. Her pups will be top-tier Alphas, every single one. Whoever mates her becomes the future Alpha King." "And look at her—the Moon Goddess must've carved her by hand." "A wolf like that, blood like that, Is Damian insane?" "Poor Rivera girl. Her own mate doesn't even want her." The whispers circled. Everyone was certain I'd name Damian—they'd all seen how badly I'd fallen for him. In my last life, I worshiped Damian as my savior. White wolves are rare, which means my life was never peaceful. I got snatched by rogues once.

Even the older Lycans watched his face before deciding whether something was amusing. The Blood King did not need to demand attention. It belonged to him before he entered a room. I was refilling a nobleman’s glass when he caught my wrist. His grip was not painful, but it stopped me. I looked down at his hand. The man was thick around the middle, with grey threaded through his beard and several rings cutting into his fingers. His eyes moved over my servant’s dress before lifting to my face. “A wolf,” he said. I pulled my wrist free.

He dares give Axton a scowl when they chase him out of the pack themselves. I walked over to the head of the table and stood, then took off my hood. I side-eyed Thane to see him suck air through his teeth and grit his teeth. I smirked, not enough for others to see but enough for Axton to notice. He shook his head and grabbed a chair to sit. The men who were outside when I came in walked in to see me standing at the head of the table, and their eyes widened in shock. Of course, I'm the White Wolf. But I ignored their reaction and focused on every other person.

In the center of the Boundary, standing alone against the swirling grey mist, was a single figure. He carried the White Bone flag—a jagged piece of bleached ribcage tied to a silver pole. Behind him sat three long, heavy wagons covered in black tarps. The wagons weren't pulled by horses; they were pulled by "Grave-Walkers"—hairless, six-legged beasts that looked like wolves stretched onto a spider's frame. "He’s been standing there for two hours," Kaelen reported, joining us at the edge of the rampart. Her silver eyes were narrowed, her hand resting on the hilt of her obsidian blade. "He hasn't moved. He hasn't shifted. He hasn't even breathed."

To sit there was to be the alpha of alphas and he needed that badly, for a million reasons, but especially for one. “I try not to think about Eldarna too much,” he responded. “We have been practicing. I am thinking we have bigger problems.” Nate dropped his glass, he needed to hear everything Avan had to say “What problems?” “There’s a white wolf here.” He waited to get a reaction from Nate but when he didn’t, he knew Nate had already heard “You’ve heard.” He said. “You decided a white wolf with no rank should attend to council members. You should know it will be the talk of the pack for as long as it will take them to find something more interesting to talk about.”