Whitewing Warriors Novels & Stories

I show my teeth, surrounded by ravenous rogues. Just when I watch them lean back, preparing to launch forward, they are distracted. I watch the pack warriors from the clearing above bolt down the hillside, their sights set on the rogues. I take in an easy breath as the rogues are chased off but the warriors continue to pursue them, running so far out of sight that I feel comfortable enough to shift back. Eugene already has, His back shoulder blade sporting a horrible, vicious wound. He flinches slightly, his arm bruising already and with black and purple streaks and crimson blood leaking down his awkward, crooked wrist.

And then the two warriors came striding out of the fog-filled night. They moved as one unit, in perfect accord, in perfect step. They moved with a peculiar animal grace, fluid and supple and totally silent. They were both tall and broad-shouldered with long, flowing hair and eyes of death. Some said they could see the red flames of hell burning in the depths of those icy black eyes. Grown men moved out of their way; women shrank into the shadows.

I’d scream until my throat bled. So I didn’t look. Not even when the wind changed and I thought I heard him whisper my name. Not even when I felt my entire soul sink into the mud behind me. We walked through the torn remains of the battlefield—burnt trees, broken bodies, smeared blood. Whitney didn’t say a word. I could tell she was still fuming. I could practically feel her radiating judgment beside me, but I didn’t have the energy to fight her anymore. She led the way back toward the ridge, where the rest of our surviving warriors waited. A few of them looked at me. Some nodded. Some frowned. Some looked confused as hell.

I giggle as I twirl. "The lead warriors whipped and flogged each other until they screamed. The lead warriors whipped and flogged each other until they screamed. Did Wyatt or Jessi cream first? The lead warriors whipped and flogged each other until they screamed. The lead warriors whipped and flogged each other until they screamed. Did Wyatt or Jessi cream first?"

He asked back. "Xylah sent you right," I muttered. "kind of, I was made to humiliate you," he whispered as I nod, it easy knowing it was from her. Since she left, I have been seeing a glimpse of her handwork and I have been avoiding them but this was too daring it's was an insult. "I can't let you have your way, the other's fight without their wolves," I pointed out. "That's was because you didn't want them to win, not because they wanted to, I'm sure if they fought with their wolves, they would have won," he challenge.

Griffith fought like a demon, biting anyone who got close, trying to rip free, but the net was too heavy, too tight. Sharp spears jabbed through the gaps, carving deep wounds and bleeding him out to weaken him. No matter how powerful Archer Whitlock was, he wasn’t invincible. "Easy, Griffith, stop fighting, wait... they’ll have to take the net off us." Archer decided to play it smarter. His wolf collapsed to the ground, panting hard, covered in wounds, "defeated." Or at least that’s what the warriors thought. Now the question was... who was going to put the noose on the wolf?

Everyone turned. A group of armored warriors charged into the chamber. Their armor was unlike anything Nova had ever seen. Dark silver steel covered every inch of their bodies. Black cloaks flowed behind them. Each warrior carried a spear tipped with shimmering silver crystal. And every shield bore the same Blackthorn crest. At their head rode a woman on an enormous white wolf. She leapt gracefully from its back the moment she entered the chamber. Her silver hair, streaked with hints of white from age, was braided down her back.

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.

While the entire pack cheered for Alexander and Sarah in the square, I climbed the highest cliff on the edge of the territory. The wind howled, tearing at my hospital gown. I looked down at the pack lands. The lights were bright, the music loud. It looked so alive. "Enjoy it while it lasts," I whispered. I raised the dagger. I didn't hesitate. I sliced my palm again, right over the scar Alexander had made. Blood dripped onto the earth. "In the name of the White Wolf, I, Ivy, hereby sever all bonds with the Silver Moon Pack." As I chanted, it felt like an invisible string in the air snapped.

a painful whisper came out of him I am afraid , I am afraid you will go without telling you anything, I am afraid you will go without knowing that you are many things to me, I am afraid I will miss telling you I like your smile, I like your face, I like the way you dress, I like your stance, your walk, The way you speak, I like your tension that we share, your laughter, your height, I like you. “What are you doing?” Maya cried when she saw a herd of virus stabbing her daughter in the waist, and the concerned person widened her lips when she heard the screams of her Mate from under the ground. She grabbed her waist in pain, what could she do when she couldn't turn like any other werewolf? May