Wolfless Novels & Stories

The uncertainty gnawed at me. I flipped through the pages, absorbing every detail. The text described the white wolves' abilities in vivid detail: their capacity to heal wounds with a touch, to manipulate the elements, and to draw strength from the earth itself. These abilities were a direct gift from the moon goddess, who had created the white wolves to maintain balance and harmony in the world. The other wolves, lacking these divine gifts, grew resentful and ultimately conspired to wipe out the white wolves to eliminate the perceived threat to their own power.

Jeff looked up when he heard someone walking in the door. Xylon could barely contain himself as he sat down on the other side of the desk. "It worked! The Dire Wolf Gene is turned off. In fact, it's totally disabled. They tried to turn it back on and it was just down right dead. The antidote apparently can keep it from ever being turned on again." Xylon was grinning ear to ear. Of course, in his excitement, his Greek accent was thicker.

I had hope that it wouldn't just happen now. But like every other year, at this point I would wish that my name wasn't my name. I would wish that I wasn't Allison Bush, the last air of the Bush who actually is the only one that turns into a full wolf on a full moon. I was trying to run from that and some other things.. But then again, you can't run away from yourself!!

“We cannot have you turning into a mindless Vargulf over this.” Vargulfs are Werewolves who weren’t able to turn back into their human form. A mindless creature only driven by extreme rage and bloodlust. And Zeeb had always been an angry child, which made him a very strong werewolf but also a very unstable one. So a ring laced with wolfsbane was made especially for him to keep his anger in check. It’ll grow red when he’s exceeding the desired limit. “What is it?” Remus asked when Zeeb seemed visibly relaxed.

Another guy stood up, "I'm Ralph Bensen, a member of the beta hounds pack too. I like trekking. If you like to go trekking sometime, I'm pleased to help you." Lucian hit on Ralph's shoulder and made him sit in his place. "I'm Jacob Elrod, member of stealth Mane pack." "I'm Teo, a human." looked at the guys beside him and made a smile at me. "I'm Rudina Hart, alpha female of a howling jaws pack. Nice to meet you, Ms Hopper." Why are there so many werewolves in this class than humans? I saw the guy who helped me from the bus terminal to the school. The talkative guy? He's in this class too?

Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breasts felt as if they might burst from the bra she wore, and she knew the taut points of her nipples were obvious even through the fabric. “I think you’re right,” he said. “I’m tired, too. I just hate to think of you leaving.” She laughed. “I’m only going about fifty yards, and I’ll see you in the morning. Does my escort have a name?” “This guy?” Brad scratched behind his ears; the wolf leaned against his thigh and moaned. “He may not act like it, but he’s a wild wolf. We don’t name them. We’ve all learned to recognize the ones who like to hang around the lodge, but it doesn’t seem right to give them names. I’m sure they have their own.”

Even from the angle, Lance could see that he was flushed red suddenly, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. “Clothes, Lance. People wear clothes.” He admonished, but despite his exasperation, the cruel anger from the previous night was absent and it made the little muscles in the Wolf’s neck unclench a little bit. “Wolves don’t. I don’t have any.” He replied simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He tried to suppress the pleased little glow at how affected the human was, how his eyes lingered for a second longer than necessary on his chest, waist, and hips.

I focus a bit more and notice that one of the wolves is Sylas; he has to be fighting Laslo. Sylas is a huge gray wolf, bigger than Laslo’s white wolf. Laslo’s wolf is swiping at Sylas, and his claws connect here and there. Sylas twists his body and kicks Laslo’s wolf, sending it flying into a tree. Laslo’s wolf lays at the base of the tree, sprawled out. Sylas marches to the tree base and hovers over Laslo’s wolf, snarling and biting. His jaw reaches over and grabs at the white wolf’s neck.

But by the third day after Julian's appearance before the council, the pattern had grown too consistent, too deliberate, to explain away any longer. I heard the word for the first time properly outside the kitchens, two younger pack members I didn't recognize pausing their conversation only after I was already close enough to catch the tail end of it. Wolfless. Said quietly, almost carelessly, the way you might mention weather or an ordinary chore. Somehow that casualness cut deeper than open cruelty would have managed, the sense that my absence of a wolf had become, once again, a simple fact rather than an accusation, something spoken about rather than to me,

Discreetly, he wrote those two names down before shoving it under his keyboard. “Thank you. These are a few samples of different styles and designs I was working on that I thought you might like.” She slid over a drawing of a version of military clothing. “The unique thing about these is we build them with extreme heavy duty velcro. General wear and tear will not rip them apart, but they will rip apart when you transform into your wolf form. The benefit of this is that you do not waste any clothing. From my understanding, your clothes will get ruined if you transform if they are still on your body. These will not.”