Young Adult Werewolf の小説・ストーリー

Mom hugged me, making my head spin more. "Mom, am I really a werewolf? Tell me you are joking," I said, tears welling up in my eyes, but my mother shook her head. "It's the truth, Mia. You are a werewolf. Most of us here are werewolves. We have different breeds, and once you turn 18 years old, you will meet your mate. More like your boyfriend who will marry you," Mom said, and my face flushed scarlet as I peered at Triple L's faces.

It blinked a few times, then rolled up onto its feet and looked around in wonder. Henry's wolf wasn't a pup, but Daniel could identify it as a juvenile. It was a little smaller and lankier, with not as much muscle mass as the adult wolves. Daniel had never seen, or even heard of a werewolf so young, so he wasn't sure what to expect.

My straight chestnut-coloured hair is piled on top of my head into a perfect bun, and the off-the-shoulder blush coloured top and high-waisted black lace skirt adorn my body, hopefully portraying me as a confident young she-wolf ready to take on her role in this pack. Last month, I had just turned sixteen, the age a wolf finds their role in their pack and—possibly—their mate. It is the time when all wolves are deemed “adults” in our community, when a she-wolf can choose to give up school and start a family with her mate if she so desires. In the eyes of the werewolf nation, any wolf aged sixteen who has shifted to their wolf form is able to take on responsibility in furthering the success of

Just a few hours ago, he’d spoken like everything was dipped in sugar, and now he looked ready to erupt. “What is your age, Miss Jona?” “Eighteen, sir.” Why was he asking? I clearly remembered telling him about my birthday. “And what is the legal age to begin manifesting? To have a wolf? To be considered legal in the pack—even if guardians are required until eighteen?” “Fourteen, sir.” Confusion twisted in my stomach. Everyone knew that. Fourteen—the age when wolves surfaced, the age we were treated as adults even with supervision. We werewolves got our wolves sometime between fourteen and twenty. It wasn’t complicated.

“I am still your father! I built this pack!” In a flash of desperation, Sebas shifted. His body contorted with a sickening crunch of bones, shrinking down into his pure wolf form, a large, powerful black wolf on all fours, eyes wild with anger. Without hesitation, he lunged at Matthias, jaws snapping, driven by fury and humiliation.

“I got supporting materials from the library. Besides, I’ve attended more weddings from different cultures than you can imagine. I have firsthand experience.” “Wow.” Curiosity sparked in her eyes as she absorbed his words. “Were you ever human—or were you born a werewolf vampire?” “I was born this way,” he replied easily. “I stopped aging physically at twenty-seven. The same goes for the rest of my pack, though we all stop aging at different times.” He smirked again. “Please don’t faint this time.” For the first time, Arda managed a smile, albeit a reserved one. It came straight from her heart.

“Ugh. I doubt that. But, you might need to come up with a better strategy to say you’re sorry. Or, you know, you could have just confronted her about the truth about your wolf thing that suddenly triggered during that night, that’s why you left her.” I immediately stared at him in contempt. “Okay, I’m just kidding, all right?” He then seriously looked me in the eye and tapped my shoulder. “Hey, we’ll get through this, okay? If I have to, I’ll chain you up myself every full moon night and feed you live cats, mice, chickens, or rats, what else, umm…?” “You mean, raw?” “Why is there a werewolf who ate fried chicken nowadays?” He humorously replied.

The question was on the minds of various pack members as they drifted to sleep that night. The pack house's opulent parlor was transformed into a jubilant gathering, as the pack's younger members congregated to celebrate Thane's miraculous recovery. The 25-year-old werewolf, who by rights should have assumed the mantle of alpha, had been cruelly robbed of his destiny by a grievous injury sustained in a brutal pack battle.

replied Sadie. “That’s because I’m a werewolf,” answered Arla. All three girls whipped their heads to look at her in shock. “Don’t worry, I don’t have my wolf yet, and I won’t until I’m sixteen. I’ll be going back to my pack then.” “I’ve never met a werewolf!” exclaimed Sadie excitedly, jumping up and down. “That’s so cool.” “So, you’re part witch, part werewolf?” asked Meredith, her midnight black hair swinging as she collected her clothes and toiletries, getting ready to shower.

She kept glancing at me with worried eyes. "I’m sorry a rejection has to happen to you right after your first shift," she said, her voice gentle and sympathetic. I nodded, keeping my lips sealed because I didn’t trust my voice not to crack. "I mean… he needs an heir," I said after a moment, trying to sound understanding. "We’re not even in the same age range, and I’m not legally an adult. I get why he’s doing this." Mrs. Edgar hummed thoughtfully. "Well, he also has his principles," she said. "Werewolves consider sixteen the proper age, but humans say eighteen. And honestly? That makes sense too. Plenty of us agree with that."