Wolf Marked Novels & Stories

The muzzle of the wolf, grinning and splashing with saliva, clicked in the face of the man, while Ar chuckled contentedly, throwing off his turn. - Well, shall we dance? - mocking, repeated the words of Mark. “Let’s dance,” Mark repeated, stretching his lips into a bloody smile. Arnar sensed the approaching danger from behind and heard Vitali's cry: - Behind! — Violating the order to stay in the territory, he rushed to the rescue. The werewolf flew off, slamming like a stone wall into the body of the High Vampire that appeared out of nowhere. A sweetish aroma enveloped Arnar and forced him to exhale convulsively from the pain spreading in his back.

Their eyes glimmered with a malefic light, revealing their true nature as they prepared to unleash chaos upon the unsuspecting nation. The Black Wolves bore a distinct mark of their predatory nature. Etched upon their bodies, each member possessed a sinuous tattoo, resembling a coiled serpent with piercing crimson eyes. The mark adorned their bare arms, a visible symbol of their allegiance to the pack and their dedication to the impending destruction they sought.

The wolf goes from attack to submissive more than once which showed us that he doesn’t want to fight but Yanik is making him do it. The wolf turns and looks at me and it’s left eye is tar black while the other is brown, this guy has been cursed ( Kavi, charge him and hold him around his neck so he’d submit I need to get his eye ) < his eye? What on earth for? > ( his left eye has a curse which is probably why he’s the way he is, just make him submit but don’t kill him )

In the blown window, a brown she-wolf crouched half inside, breath hot and rotten, eyes intelligent and hateful. “Out of my house!” Jake bellowed. The wolf weighed him, then lifted a muscled forearm as he fired. Rounds sparked off hide and bone. Zak and Tara piled in. “Smart bitch,” Jake snapped, still working the trigger. “She’s not going down!” Zak barked, stitching a burst. “Body!” Jake yelled. They dragged fire off the skull. The she-wolf shrieked, rocked, then vaulted backward into the yard and vanished into the dark.

It holds their power, memory, and spirit. When an Alpha dies, the Heartstone vanishes and reappears in the chest of their successor, either by the will of the Heartstone itself or seized through conquest. Yet if the chosen is unworthy, the Heartstone may resist them, or worse, destroy them. Among these many packs was one known as Sable Howl, steeped in legends of the moon and black wolves. It was in this pack that a girl was born to a common werewolf named Malrik.

The entire forest floor was filled with fang-bearing wolves. Maverick was caught between beasts on either side. It was hardly a fair fight. I slithered beside one wolf and snapped my jaw around his ankle. I moved fast like a mouse and bit four more ankles. “You!” Maverick yelled through the mind-link. “Hi,” I replied. The other wolves ran off, but there was more than enough to take their place. “Nice moves, Wildcat,” he said. “Try not to get your ass kicked, Maverick.”

A moment later, movement stirred among the trees. Three wolves stepped into view... two black, one gray, each larger than the last. Marcus's brows furrowed as their scents reached him. He could smell they were not rogues. These wolves carried themselves with confidence. Pack wolves. Strong ones. A beta… and two deltas. "Who are you," Marcus demanded, his voice low but firm, "and what are you doing on my land?" He shifted slightly, moving Dana behind him. His broad frame shielded her, instincts kicking in to protect her.

She was telling him the truth. If this thing between them that had blasted out of nowhere like a space capsule and hit them both with the force of a runaway train was to work, then the Volkas would need to accept her. She hated to think what would happen if they didn't. It wasn't only Jamie's misgivings that had to be set to rest. She needed to know if Mike Volka was indeed wolf and which pack he descended from. Settling herself in her chair, she lifted her glass of wine, needing the drink to settle her nerves.

My wolf won’t have this! ^~^

He looked at the panting messenger rushing toward them. "Kill her? No." Solanke said. Death was too easy for Velda. The wolf, covered in dark red blood but grinning triumphantly, reported, "We've captured eighteen and killed the rest." Solanke slowly reached out and caught a snowflake. It melted in his palm. Then, as if performing a ritual, he closed his eyes for a moment, opened them sharply, and declared, "All Western Tribes' werewolves, withdraw from Darkclaw Town."