Wild Wife Novels & Stories

The woman stepped forward first, fingers trailing down Lila’s arm. “Beautiful,” she murmured. “We’ve been looking for someone exactly like you.” The man moved behind Lila, hands settling possessively on her hips. “Safe word?” he asked, lips brushing her ear. Lila swallowed. Voice barely a whisper. “Red.” He chuckled darkly. “Good girl.” The woman’s hand slid to the zipper at the back of Lila’s dress. “Then let’s begin.”

"Open your eyes and look around! This is Ironspike! You've been leeching off our pack for years. You're nothing but a mutt left behind by a runaway she-wolf. How do you have the audacity to act like you own the place?!" Wilda's face was twisted in a vicious scowl. Surrounded by the daughters of a few gammas, she loomed over my dripping, pathetic form, barking out the most vile insults imaginable. I sat slumped on the freezing grass. My brain flashed with waves of blinding static, a combination of oxygen deprivation and my worsening disease. Lizzie let out a hollow, numb whimper in the back of my mind. "You're all worked up..." I reached up, slowly brushing the dripping wet hair from my foreh

The Killground is the site of the annual Wilder Games, a thirty day event where condemned humans are loosed into the wild to survive, or be hunted. Each of the five chosen Warlords receives a hunting token. If they catch a tribute, they may claim them, body, blood, and soul, or kill them. If a tribute survives all thirty days, they win their freedom and are marked by the Wilds as untouchable. Those who win become legends. Few ever do. MAGIC, BLOODLINES & BREEDING RITES In the Wilds, magic is sacred and bloodlines are power. The beast kings and their Warlords rely on witches and wildborn females to continue their bloodlines. Some females are chosen as sacred mates, bound by blood and spirit.

"Are you telling me that this woman is a savage wolf?" "No, she is not." Jasper replied firmly. Hilda knew that her husband, Jasper had grown up as an orphan in a wild forest near the Iron Crest pack where the savage wolves lived. It was a miracle that he didn't turn out to become one when her father had brought him into the pack when he returned from a hunt. Despite his extensive knowledge about them, Jasper abhorred the savage wolves and killed them on sight without any mercy because he later found out that one of them killed his mother when he was little. If Giselle really was a savage wolf, she was sure that he wouldn't have let her walk away so easily.

, he turned to her and smiled. "Ah, you must be the prince's wife, go in", he opened the barbed wire gate for her to go in which she did. It wasn't a smooth road but she could walk with her heels on it. Flowers lined the road and it got narrower and less smooth the more she walked. At a point, she took off her shoes. Seeing light coming from the end of the walk, she walked even faster until she found herself standing at a dock. It was beautiful. She turned and saw her husband walking towards her sexily with a bouquet of red roses and a bottle of champagne in his hands.

However, we are wild beings, with an insane hunger and need for freedom, it is imposible to cage us, we are the definition of wild, trying to supress our wolves has never ended well for us, It could be like a split personality, the wolf in us, it takes time to merge, it gets harder and painful if we try to supress it, and unlike myths, we do not need to kill to activate it, because contrary to popular belief, it is not a curse, but a gift, a blessing. "Hi," I hear, and turn my gaze to the person, I see a young woman. "Hello." I smile at her, her eyes widening. "Hi," She smiles, then chuckles with embarassment at her repetition, I just stare at her with renewed interest, waiting as she ges he

she said, her voice quieter now, “I’m totally turning our future kids into ninja assassin snack bandits. These three have nothing on what I’m gunna train.” He groaned. “Why are you like this?” “Because peace is boring,” she whispered, a soft grin curling her lips. “And I am W.I.L.D., baby.” Later That Night The moon hung low in a sky stained copper, casting a dusky hue over a cracked, hollow valley. Smoke coiled like serpents through the air, and ash fluttered down like broken feathers. Serenya stood barefoot in the center of it all, the ground beneath her still warm, still bleeding from something ancient and unspoken.

She clung to him frantically, maddened by the speed and her own lust, terrified yet exultant. She was no longer Karen but a wild warrior woman, a Valkyrie riding the storm clouds to gather up the bodies of dead heroes from the battlefield and carry them to Valhalla on the back of her warhorse. And Spike was Siegfried, super hero, about to claim her as his bride. The majestic chords of Richard Wagner’s The Ring thundered through her brain, and she found herself singing aloud.

Wyatt asks him, pulling back with bright eyes. “I know. Come into the living room. I'll explain everything.” Wilder stands up, picking me up with him and carrying me into the living room. He sits on the couch, keeping me in his arms, much as he did when I was a child. When Wyatt joins us, Wilder speaks. “You know that Isolde and her man were messed up in some crazy shit. When I got there, he was trying to stop her from leaving but she told him that she knew they were coming. Then suddenly shots are being fired and I try to stop Mom from being hit. I remember feeling a horrible pain and then nothing. I woke up in an ambulance on the way to the hospital and the sheriff was with me. I told him