Wren & Wolf Novels & Stories

"I'm sure she'll have plenty of time to enjoy the sights in the future. For now, it's best we get back home. I'm sure we're all tired." So, does that mean I won't be kept holed up inside for the rest of my fertile years? Glancing back behind Wren, a large black wolf waits patiently with his eyes focused directly on me. His tail swats once while the rest of his body is statue-still—almost as if waiting for something to happen and preparing himself for it. There's no point in running away now.

"Twenty years ago, there was a fourth pack in this region. Nightfall. Smaller than the Conrads, smaller than us, but old. Older than any of the current bloodlines, if the stories are true." "Old how?" Wren's voice is barely a whisper. "Old enough that their wolves didn't answer to the moon the way ours do." Miriam's hands are steady now, the shaking from earlier gone, replaced by the careful, clinical calm she uses when she's about to tell someone something that's going to hurt. "Every wolf you and I have ever known shifts on the pull of the moon, controlled, predictable, tied to the cycle. Nightfall wolves could shift whenever they chose. Day, night, didn't matter. It wasn't tied to the sam

Hannah whispered to him, giving him a small smile. “What do you want?” Asher yelled, turning to look at Knox. “Bad guy..what do bad guys want…money, power, control. Same deal. I want Red Woods…I want to destroy Cross River.” Knox said grinning. The hall door busted open, wood shattering out into the room. A large dark gray wolf came bursting through, flanking his sides were several other wolves, all eyes glowing white except the one glowing ice blue. The back door to the hall busted open, another swarm of wolves came rushing in. The deep chocolate wolf leading the way, eyes glowing ice blue, looked fierce. Her eyes locked with the dark gray wolf as a silent order was given to surround the ro

When I refused to leak a single scrap of information about the pack, the Rogue Alpha locked me in a cage filled with vaporized wolfsbane mist. Every time they tore out one of my fingernails, the brutes below would howl and jeer. Not until all ten of my fingers were mangled and the tendons in my limbs were severed did my inner wolf finally fall silent. Only then did they toss me into the pool of corrupting wolfsbane like a piece of trash. A tearing pain shot through the depths of my mind. An ethereal, commanding voice pierced the veil of my thoughts. "Wren, your soul is tethered to this world by obsession. Only when your body is claimed by your pack with the highest honors can you return to t

Breed Me, Daddy Alpha: My Bully Mate's Secret Twins Chapter 27: Elder Wren Elder Sera Wren was eighty-one years old and looked approximately fifty-five. She arrived on a Tuesday with one small bag, no security detail, and the particular quality of stillness that very old, very powerful wolves carried — the kind that made rooms feel like they'd been waiting for the person to arrive. She was small. Silver-haired. Her eyes were the sharp gold of an elder wolf, and when those eyes landed on Nova in the penthouse doorway, she went very still.

It was rare to see mansions in the realm; only the richest and strongest wolf leaders had access to such. He had brought me to the forbidden Saber Pack, in which we had been warned never to run into no matter the crisis. The tales had it that they were the strongest werewolves in existence, having unimaginable power. “Can I just take a piss?” I say trying to work my way out. “You don’t smell of tension or irritation. That wouldn’t work on me. “ He bellowed, pushing me with his index finger. I almost tripped, but I got hold of myself early enough, using the door as a support system.

I said. "Yes." "Tell me what you know." She told me. Thomas Harper-Wren had been twenty-seven years old when the Wren Alpha had made a formal complaint to the council about his advocacy work. He'd been organizing half-blood wolves across three packs — not aggressively, not politically, just connecting them to each other and to legal resources and to sympathetic full-bloods who believed in the same things he believed in. He had, according to Reyes, been the most genuinely decent Alpha-lineage wolf she'd encountered in thirty years on the council.

They left the ruined foundation on the third morning. Nine wolves now — two more had arrived in the days before departure, drawn by the same borderland telegraph that had brought the others. A young male named Cade, seventeen and freshly exiled, still carrying the particular hollowness of someone who hadn't yet decided whether surviving was worth the effort. And an older female, grey-muzzled and deliberate, who introduced herself as Wren and offered no explanation for her presence beyond: "I heard there was something being built. I know how to build things."

She went back to the treated cloth and the Claw and worked until the resistance became something she could hold without shaking. In the afternoon she found herself near the western edge of camp where Wren had been settled with a group of Shadowpaw wolves. The young female was sitting up, eating, looking at the Grove with the specific expression of someone recalibrating to a reality that included space and light and not being watched constantly. Marina sat down nearby. Not intrusively. Just within reach if Wren wanted to talk. Wren looked at her after a while. "You're the hybrid," Wren said.

Wolves are pack animals, but in these meetings, every one is out for its own throat. Wren sits chained to the stone bench at the center, a focal point designed to amplify shame. They left her wrists raw with the old silver, the kind that bites and lingers even after the cuffs come off. She’s hunched, head down, the mop of her hair hiding most of her face. I tell myself I’m glad I can’t see her eyes, that it makes this easier.