Wolves Books Fiction Novels & Stories

Without turning away from the window, I knew the exact moment Christos came into the room. I heard his urgent tone as he asked me what exactly was going on, and while a part of me wondered how he could know there’s a problem, the other part of me already went for its own conclusions. That damn book again! It’s as if everything I read so far was happening in my life and around me! But it’s impossible. Isn’t it? There is nothing like mind - links or whatever nonsense is in that book. Wolves don’t exist as humans! They are in the bush and forest, not among humans!

“She has them tangled. The entire kingdom would be distracted. They will not see us coming until we are already inside them.” The Shadow God turned his head toward the book. “And this?” I picked it up. The leather was warm, which was wrong in this cold. “The Book of Wolves.” “Open it.” I did. The first pages smelled like dust. The writing moved when I wasn’t looking at it, shifting like insects under glass. It spoke of the Aurion wolves. Noble. Bound to the sun. Keepers of law. It spoke of the Noctaryn wolves. Ruthless. Bound to the moon. Keepers of teeth. And then it spoke of someone who had decided to be different.

It lived with me, slept beside me, and sometimes even walked in my reflection. I opened the book I had carried all the way up here… a novel about wolves. Not the kind my father swore were nothing but beasts to be hunted, but the kind that lived in fairy tales and half-remembered myths. Wolves that shifted into men, men who wore hunger in their eyes and shadows in their bones. I traced the words with my fingers, the firelight flickering across the page. How ridiculous, I thought, to romanticize monsters. To imagine them as more than killers. And yet… something in me wanted to believe.

A book came out along with his hand, both fully intact. “The Courage to Trust,” by Dr. Franklin Reed. He had to be joking. There were hidden cameras here somewhere, I just knew it. No fucking way was the god of wolves cracking open a self-help book from the mortal realm. Sure enough, he fanned through the book eagerly, skipping over several chapters in the process. The tip of his tongue appeared from between his plump lips. He found the page he’d been looking for and quickly skimmed it. With a satisfied hum, he chucked the book behind his shoulder where it was swallowed up by that strange, shimmering magic.

“Are you okay? Who are you speaking to? I ask, a bit worried. “It's a voice in my head, she calls herself Lyra. I know you might think I'm crazy and probably need to go to an asylum but it's the truth” “I believe you”. I say smiling at her while finally closing the gap between us, I reach out to her once again, patiently waiting and praying for her to take my hands. Just as she reaches out to me, I hear the ruffling of leaves nearby and then a different scent hits me. My instincts to protect her kicks in and I quickly tell her to get behind me while abruptly scanning the area for rogues. As expected, a couple of wolves jump out of hiding and begin circling us, their intent clear as they grow

I wondered if I had any markings on my face. Then I remembered there was a lake nearby! I could go there and see my reflection. My father watched me for a moment and I saw him give me a slight nod. That was all I needed. I began to run from the circle, running out of the pack's encampment. As I ran, I marveled at all the new sensations I could feel in this form. The earth beneath my paws felt amazing, the wind in my fur was incredible. So lost in all the sensations, I didn't realize that I had been followed by another wolf. I looked over, instantly realizing the wolf was Greyson. His wolf was almost as large as my father's, however while my father was black, Greyson was a dark grey and his e

Just like hers—though I didn’t know who she was. Downstairs, the training yard was already alive with movement. Warriors sharpening blades, brushing pelts, preparing to impress the elders under tonight’s blood moon. I passed them quietly, head high, shoulders straight. But the whispers never stopped. Whispers from parents to children. From the young wolves to the old ones. “Do you know that the Beta was found in the snow? Like a cursed thing.” “Alpha Blaine just took her in to save face.” “How could she even become the Beta?”

Mary Miller-Parks gripped the steering wheel of her 2000 Jetta driving like a bat out of hell she drove all night when she felt the shift happen. Her own wolf crying from her prison inside Mary’s mind. ‘She is free!’ Ayla had howled pacing the walled up spot in Marys mind. ‘I will not let you out.’ Mary growled back at her. ‘I can find her.’ Her wolf snapped back. “I will not do it. I swear I would not and you know that.” Mary said out load her grip on the wheel getting tighter. ‘Mary let me out’ “I WILL NOT LET YOU OUT” she screamed into the night. Mary pushed her down, quieting her. Ayla went quiet curling herself into a ball sleeping inside Mary’s mind. Mary knew as she got closer to that

She gives me a glass of water, and I give her an affirmative nod. “She is part wolf, right?” Debra asks me, and I nod my head. She settles on the stool in front of me. “There are things about wolves that you don’t understand. Wolves mostly live in packs. When someone is cast out of their pack, most of the time they go what we call—” “Rogue. Outcasts” “Yes. Certain things happen, and well, some things that El experienced are not because she has that disease. It’s because…” she says, and my eyes shift to Eloise, who is splashing water in the woman’s face.

" He asked and I nodded. "It seems that now the wolves are losing their roots and solving everything with weapons..." He smiled and everyone fell silent. "You did a great job, Amelia." Bram looked around. "But it looks like you've been cleaning too close to that animal's cage. "Animal just like you. Because as far as I know, you haven't stopped being a wolf. And much worse, you haven't stopped stinking like a loner. Don't forget that." Elija replied, still sitting, now looking around too. It seemed to him that the fresh blood on his wrists and heels was nothing more than an insect bite. How is he holding up the weakness and pain? For a person who was unconscious bleeding for three days, it s