Wrath Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels & Stories

"Y-yes!" Kayden sits down and puts his arms around my waist as he pushes harder and deeper. He bites my neck and lets out a loud groan when he reaches the climax. Soon after, I cum too. "Fuck, baby," Kayden passes out on the chair and pulls me next to him. "You're incredible." I giggle and rest my head above his chest, "Now, I understand why you're called Black Tiger."

It was Ryder Blackwood, the enigmatic alpha werewolf of Ravenwood, his expression unreadable as he studied her with intense scrutiny. Ryder Blackwood exuded an aura of raw power and controlled intensity. Standing tall at 6'4", his broad shoulders and muscular build hinted at the formidable strength that lay beneath his calm exterior. His chiseled features were framed by short, dark hair, often tousled as if he had just returned from a midnight run through the woods. Ryder's piercing blue eyes, reminiscent of a clear, icy winter sky, held a depth of emotion and secrets that few could fathom, making his expression perpetually unreadable.

Maybe there is hope. “Wolves of Venom Fang, show them no fucking mercy!” I howl as I attack with Hyde. When we are both thrown off Alpha Rodrick as he shifts into his black wolf, Jax. Fuck! He is massive. Still not as big as Celeste, but I know he is capable of inflicting real damage. “I challenge you, Alpha Dahlia Blackwood, for the title of Alpha of Alpha’s.” His voice booms over the sounds of growls and howls when my mom Aura screams stop and all the wolves do her bidding.

With a cruel smile, Tennebris pressed against the hole, hitting and pulling his hand, as if he wanted to unclog the bottom of the well that he opened to hell. Before the sin of Wrath rose fully, before the meteors in the heavens reached the atmosphere of earth, the darkness coming from the kingdoms of Wrath rose over us. It was nothing like the night. It was pure ink. A black dye that nothing in the world was able to contain. And those shadows rose against us, enveloping us with that characteristic and terrible odor of Wrath. Even if Miguel was holding my hand, I couldn't see him and know if he was really there. The darkness covered everything and disappeared so quickly that the smell almost

Their unwavering support fueled my determination to defeat Alpha Blackwood, to break the chains that had bound us for far too long. With a surge of adrenaline, I unleashed a devastating blow, catching Alpha Blackwood off guard. He staggered, blood dripping from his maw, but his resilience matched his wickedness. In a swift counterattack, he struck back, claws ripping across my flank. Pain seared through my body, but I refused to falter. Drawing strength from the pack's unwavering loyalty, I pressed on, landing blow after blow, until finally, a decisive strike sent Alpha Blackwood crashing to the ground.

The rogue grits out. Killian then slashes the knife down on the rogue’s shoulder, cutting through the skin and muscle. The rogue can’t hold back the scream of pain, and it shakes the dungeon causing dust to fall from the ceiling. “Why are you coming onto MY pack territory?” My father asks, having just picked up the syringe of wolfsbane. The knife wound may hurt, but wolfsbane is something that will feel like a thousand suns burning through your skin, roasting your skin from the inside out. The rogue casts a weary glance at the syringe my father is holding in his hand.

"Thank you for everything." I thank Dylan and not if he can hear me, but I'm glad because without the force of that blast I wouldn't have enough power to accomplish what I needed to. With my trembling I make a cut across his chest on the left side, right above his heart, driving the dagger in so far that it touches and cuts his muscle and blood starts to flow. "I, Hope Black, Delta of the Silver Rage Pack, with the power of the Moon and Excalibur, reject the bond of the Silver Rage Pack and declare myself Rogue."

“Of course I am here… Right when you need me the most. It seems like you are ready…” Azazel was truly a sight to behold, with his chiseled features and striking appearance that seemed to radiate power and danger. His jet-black hair was styled in a messy yet elegant way, falling over his forehead and framing his sharp cheekbones. His tall, muscular frame was clad in a black satin robe ornamented with red and gold accents, which only emphasized his rugged, devilishly handsome appearance.

Their Alpha hadn't arrived yet. And then, there he was—walking in with his Beta. Alpha Draven Blackthorn of Ironfang—born from the bloodline said to descend from the first wolf of war. The man commanded presence. All eyes were on him as he strode in gracefully, broad shoulders cutting through the air looking like an untouchable god dropped into mortal skin—like sin carved into flesh; his facial features bore the kind of structure that would seem like sculptors bled themselves dry to imitate.

Not tonight. The circle of wolves moved inward, the glow of the ritual fire painting them in amber and shadow. Ardan stood at its heart, every inch of him coiled and ready, his bare chest streaked with earth and the sigil of the old ways drawn across his collarbone. Zevran faced him—taller, quieter, but far more dangerous for it. His silence was the kind that spoke of calculation. Control. The kind that could unravel into something feral with a single breath.