Wolf Oc Maker Novels & Stories

The wolf jumped again towards the Cursed until they were slammed into a tree. Hugo's breath jolted out, his gaze turned angry. Aryadi grunted in front of his enemy's face while sticking his claws into the man's chest. Hugo shouted out once. His body trembled for a moment before yawning and quickly turning into a wolf in red fur. Aryadi the black wolf gave a startled voice. Hugo took advantage of that split second by throwing the wolf Aryadi's body. Aryadi was thrown several fathoms while Hugo stood tall in his form as a wolf proudly.

She giggled in a sinister manner while rubbing her hands together maniacally. "Okay, spill it bitch, what are you waiting for?" Damn! When did I start imitating El's words? She's really an influence on me. "Okay, okay, hold your horses, babygirl. This flower called the wolfsbane maker can be used to create a wolfsbane, but not the usual kind, my dear. This kind I'm talking about helps hide the scent of a wolf or Lycan from being traced by enemies, got it?" El revealed slowly and carefully while gazing into my eyes to know if she had my full attention.

Saliva dripped from his snarling jaws as he crouched, preparing to attack. The two wolves collided with a thunderous crash, their snarls and growls echoing through the bakery. Claws raked fur and flesh, teeth snapped with lethal intent. Ryker’s agility countered Bruce’s brute strength as they moved in a flurry of strikes and evasions. Despite the chaos, Ryker’s every move was calculated, his wolf form exhibiting both power and precision.

Maybe it’s the instructors in wolf form. Or maybe it’s… something else. “Stop,” Olivia whispers suddenly, grabbing my arm. I follow her line of sight. Across the line of trees, three wolves prowl slowly in circles. Their fur is dark, sleek, each with a glowing blue batch tied to one of their legs. Their ears flick, alert. Their steps are light but confident. Those are Blue-category wolves. They have ten points each. Olivia leans close, her voice barely a breath. “I want to ambush them. If we can get even one batch, we’re ahead.”

The increased adrenaline makes the wolves in the werewolves' bodies unable to be bound in human form because they have to feel their wild instincts that want to be released and roam freely. Marek was still roaming freely when he felt his wolf trying to pull him somewhere. Following the wolf's tug in his body, Marek ran on all fours covered in silver wolf fur typical of the Olun family pureblood line. The difference between the Olun family wolves is in the color of their eyes. Every wolf from the pureblood line in the Olun family has a distinctive eye color and is different from each other.

The only thing we can do right now, is help you conceal the fact that you don't have a wolf," he said. "And how do we do that?" "An ointment. An old recipe. It will not bring your wolf back, but it will mask its absence. To others, your wolf will seem faint, asleep—but still there. The scent will remain. It is a disguise, but it may be enough.” Kaelan looked at me. “Do you want it?” “Yes,” I said immediately. “A disguise is better than nothing.” “Good. But I must make it. I do not have it with me.”

The floral circle was more than just a decorative arrangement; it was a reflection of the myriad emotions Shade harbored, a silent testament to the depths of his feelings. In the very core of this fragrant circle, Shade positioned a wooden figurine. The hand-carved piece, with every curve, line, and notch etched meticulously, depicted a majestic wolf, its head thrown back in a poignant howl to the silvery moon. It wasn’t just a mere artistic creation; it bore the essence of their pack's legacy and spirit. Such figurines were rare, handcrafted by adept artisans from bygone eras, and were treasured, often taking center stage in significant pack ceremonies and revered rituals.

The yard was louder outside than inside the shed. Metal clanged, engines snared, the faint rhythm of music spilled from somewhere behind a garage. Wolves and humans worked side by side, some shirtless, others tattooed, all wearing leather patched with the same emblem, a crimson skull with fangs. The Killers MC. An older wolf stood by a row of bikes, sleeves rolled to his elbows, grease streaking his hands. His presence was quiet but heavy, the kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to be obeyed.

The sound of my cracking bones filled the air as my limbs stretch unnaturally, joints popping and shifting to accommodate the new form. I could feel my face contorting painfully, my jaw expanding and teeth sharpening into vicious fangs. A howl escapes my lips, primal and haunting, echoing through the forest. As the transformation took place, I could feel my human thoughts recede, replaced my werewolf consciousness. In my werewolf form I stood tall, my predator instincts awakened with glistening eyes and an insatiable hunger. Cleo. Ozark’s camp was larger than anyone could ever imagine. It was half as large as the Vikings camp with large buildings, castles and wooden longhouses.

The smell of ozone and wet fur was suffocating. I didn’t breathe; I didn’t move. I simply crouched low against the jagged rock face, my fingers digging into the wet, freezing moss. The bionic wolf—the one with the steel serrated teeth—tilted its head. A faint red laser beam pulsed from its left eye, scanning the terrain. It didn't have the soul of an animal; it had the cold, unblinking focus of a security grid.