Wild A Novel Novels & Stories

And all she could think about as she stared at the rain was the bleak, hurt look in the Jacob's eyes. Oh, get over yourself, she thought. She sank deeper into the water until her nose kissed the stream surface. It was her own fault, and she knew it. Ever since she met the guy, she'd been acting like a hysterical harpy. She knew that he was her mate, she feel the bond, her wolf call him mine the first day she met him, she can't resist it and she still forght him and right now she was hurting herself, and also him, since he couldn't take it from her anymore, Predictably enough, he'd gotten sick of it and left. End of story. What point was there in beating a dead horse?

Stavros’s POV The car sped along the highway that took me through the boreal forest, high Alpine, and rolling tundra until we reached a desolate village. I knew the place since I had come here before. It was the Wild Wain Village, the territory of the Wind Wolves. The place was cold, desolate, and uninhabitable, submerged in darkness because the clouds hanging low completely blocked the pale rays of the Midnight sun.

I hated how steadying it felt. I stepped back before I could think too hard about that. "Just — explain. You said you'd seen this before. What did you mean?" "There's a novel," he said. "About a wolf warrior who enrolls at an academy and starts shifting into a black wolf instead of the rare white wolf she was born with. No one can explain it. Not at first." My pulse spiked. "Who wrote it?" "Sophie Miller, I think." The name hit me like a blow to the chest. The world tilted, sound rushing out of my ears until all I could hear was my own heartbeat, deafening.

Still, Kael would worry about her every second she was gone. While we ate, they explained what a null really was. The more they talked, the more it clicked. “That explains a lot,” I said slowly. “Why so many different creatures survive here on the High Wilds. Outside, wolves are always watching themselves. Always hiding. Always thinking about rank, rules, power.” I looked around the room. “That exists here too, but it doesn’t control everything. This place is rougher. Wilder. Closer to the land.” Mireya studied my face. Her mouth twitched. “You like it.”

“Wei spotted. He has four men with him. One car only. Two minutes.” Saint clenched his jaw and glanced at Hudson. “Don’t go off the rails too soon.” “Worry about getting the right information from him and I’ll keep myself in check,” he said. “I make no such fucking promises,” Wilder said, his eyes looking feral. “But while we wait for him, why doesn’t Pinocchio masturbate?” I grinned and glanced at him. “Why not, Wilder?” “Forest fires,” he said, threw his head back and laughed loudly. “You know, wood on wood.”

The road ended where the ice began. Killian slowed the SUV to a crawl. The tires struggled to find grip on the frozen mountain pass. Ahead, the Whispering Peaks pierced the dark purple sky. This was the border of the Old Wilds, A place where the King’s law doesn't reach, but the monsters did. “The heater is on full blast, and she’s still shivering,” Sarah said from the back. Her voice was thick with fear. She was rubbing Faith’s cold hands, trying to keep her blood moving.

Ryan grunted. "Okay," Wild said, feeling how upset and angry Ryan was with Monika. "Let's go for a run. We might feel better" Wild suggested. "You're right... It will definitely make me feel better," He said and walked out of the mansion, then morphed into a wolf to go for a long run and calm himself. Wild was running at a higher speed when a girl's sob fell on his ear. He ceased his speed, and then his eyes shot up, and his heart started beating at higher speed.

The freezing air kissed my bare skin, but I was already burning up from the inside. It started as a whisper—a tingling in my fingertips. Then, the wildfire hit. CRACK. My bones snapped. The sound echoed like a gunshot in the silent night. I screamed, doubling over as agony ripped through me. It wasn't just physical. It was a purging. Every memory I had tried to bury came rushing up. Lisa’s smirk. Damien’s cold eyes. The hospital lights. The toxicity of my past was being squeezed out of my marrow, replaced by the ancient magic of the wolf.

It wasn’t every day I got to see the Savage himself at one of these races. I tilted my head skyward, spotting rows upon rows of werewolves lining the rooftops of the buildings–the onyx sky dappled with the brilliant glow of their eyes. It was a kaleidoscope of color as they peered around, leaving warped, mystical shapes in their wake. My attention snagged toward a woman standing a few people to our left, raising her candy-red blouse and flashed her chest toward the bikers. Her shrill voice carried over the crowd despite the noise as she shouted, “Savage! Hey Savage! Look here, baby!”

Startled, I get up from the bed and move toward the window, pulling back the curtain with trembling hands. Outside, under the moonlit sky, a large black wolf stands in the clearing. Its silhouette is striking against the silver light, casting a long shadow on the grass. The wolf’s eyes glow a deep, intense blue as it lifts its head and howls again, a sound that seems to resonate with the very essence of the night.