Wild With Rage Novels & Stories

He felt an unfamiliar surge of emotions, consuming him like a tempest. "Mate," growled his wolf, Varmint, a single word that reverberated through the forest, setting off a chain reaction of rage and fury. He was propelled into action, charging through the forest with a primal need to see his mate, to save her, to ensure her breath persisted.

"You almost got yourself killed today." Riley turned her head slightly, her cheek pressed against the pillow. Her eyes were glassy with tears. "He... he was going to kill Skylar. He's a monster, Lucas." Lucas paused, a cotton swab soaked in antiseptic hovering over a deep cut. "He’s a Wild Cat. We all are. You're in a world where silence is survival, Riley. Why can't you just learn to play the part?" "Because I'm not a pet!" Riley snapped, though the effort caused a fresh wave of pain to ripple through her. She winced, her body trembling.

The car sped off into the night and all he could do was stand there and stare in anger, sadness and frustration. "Fuck", he yelled out making the people walking around look at him weird. He was getting many weird looks so he walked to his car with his shoulders slumped. All of a sudden, he felt tired and drained and he just wanted to get in bed and sleep, hoping it's all a dream. He knew his past was going to come back and bite him but he didn't think it was going to be so soon. He didn't even do anything, he was innocent. "I can't believe I didn't see through his facade, why didn't I question that? How could I be so foolish?", Rita questioned once she snapped out of her thoughts, feeling st

Smiling softly at the strength that the woman was trying to lend her. It made her heart beat faster; she was beginning to have feelings for the wolf. Candy didn’t look like she would be the affectionate type to Annie, with her wild pink streaked blue hair. Her arms were bare in the tank top she had on, showing arms that were muscular from beating away at her drums. Her shorts didn’t do much to cover up legs that were toned and strong from hours spent running.

The blood in my body went completely cold. I turned to him, he was vibrating with so much rage as he morphed into his giant black wolf. His aura was dark and murderous. He was enraged and ready to kill. Even Lance was vibrating with similar rage, it was as if he was channeling his rage from Malcolm himself. Everything he was feeling was heightened at the moment, including his rage. I glanced around watching in fear the multitude of rogues that surrounded them. This was just getting worse than I imagined.

Rage surged through me, a fierce protective instinct taking over. I charged into the clearing and slammed into the rogue wolf with incredible force, sending it flying. The rogue yelped in surprise and pain. I could see Elena's eyes widen as she recognized me. I stood there, my imposing figure towering over the scene. My fur bristled with fury, and I bared my teeth, a menacing snarl escaping my lips. A deep, rumbling growl emanated from my chest. The other rogue tried to circle around me, but I turned, meeting it head-on. We collided with a thud, a flurry of fur and teeth. I felt a sharp pain as its claws raked across my side, but I ignored it, focusing on taking it down.

Elena followed her gaze—and her blood ran cold. Four rogue wolves burst from the tree line, their fur ragged, their eyes feral and wild. One was massive, darker than night. Another snarled as it lunged at a villager.

**The Wild Wolves** Aria meandered through the lush, vibrant forest, a world alive with an intricate tapestry of sights, sounds, and scents. Each step enveloped her in the rich aroma of damp earth and blooming wildflowers, the vibrant hues of greens and browns intertwining like an artist's brushstrokes across the landscape. Having spent the past few weeks in this enchanted new home amidst the towering, ancient trees and dappled sunlight, she had cultivated a deep affection for the tranquility and solace the wilderness offered—a cherished escape from the chaotic clamor of her former life.

I said slowly, "is not a gift. It is not a blessing. It is not a mark of favor from the Goddess or whatever the fuck else the songs want to call it." I looked at my hands. "The Rage Wolf is exactly what it sounds like. It answers to rage. To anger. To fury. To every ugly, messy, destructive emotion that we spend our whole lives trying to control." I looked up. "My Rage Wolf," I said, "is in its infancy. Do you understand what that means? It's new. It's young. It doesn't know its own strength. It doesn't know its own limits. It answered to my insecurity, because it doesn't know how to answer to anything else yet."

He was trying to dictate my life, to invalidate my love, under the guise of some cosmic decree. My hand was flying across his face in an instant, a flash of righteous fury that left a stinging sensation on my palm. The sharp crack echoed in the silence of the room. He spit out blood mixed with saliva, his head snapped to the side, and a thin trickle of crimson appeared at the corner of his lip. I had let **rage** surge through me, a primal, untamed force, and I didn’t regret it. Not one bit. I would do it over and over again until he took back those hateful, dismissive words of his. Here he was, once again, attempting to block out the possibility of a **home**, of a future with Perseus, unde