Book 1
Ranked #1 in badboys: May 2018
(Unedited)
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The Wulf family is infamous in the werewolf community. Their family was the first. The origins of their kind. They are more aggressive and beastly. Their wolves more ruthless and blood thirsty. Th...
*Please don't forget about my warning about the adult language in this book.*
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Willow stifled a yawn as she dumped the last bin of bottles down the chute to the recycling. She was glad she only had to take the garbage to the back and not the one hundred or so bottles each night.
She listened to them clank against each other down to the metal chute before tumbling into the metal bin below.
Turning she dried her hands on her smock and glanced around, taking in the smell of pine that now consumed the bar. Everything in the public area was cleaned, the floor was mopped, the dishes cleaned, even the kitchen had been given its nightly scrubbing. Last but not least... she turned to the bags of garbage next to the back door. It was definitely her least favorite part of the night.
Taking a deep breath, she reached for two of the four-foot tall bags, well maybe not that tall, but they sure felt like that to a girl of only five foot. She managed to pop the back door open with a small bump and headed into the small alley.
Willow glanced around, checking the tree line for any danger and internally growled at the handy-cap she had; one that left her weaker than other wolves.
She froze, halfway to the dumpster, as a scuffling noise came from down the alley.
She knew no one should be out here. It was too late for partiers and too early for most workers.
"Hello sweetheart," the voice instantly sent a chill over her. The bags dropped from her hands, but she didn't even realize, her only focus was on the Rouge before her.
Before she could blink, he had covered the distance between her and where he stepped out next to the dumpster. His had covered her mouth, as the other snaked around her waist, pulling her close.
Her nose twitched as she caught a whiff of his scent and whatever he was covered in that made him smell so foul.
"You truly are a pretty one," he whispered into her ear as he leaned down, inhaling at her neck, She nearly gagged at the smell of his breath. She could truly smell him now, and he smelled of rotting flesh and something bitter, she couldn't name.
Fear froze all thought as she felt his sharp claws against her hip. Her eyes widened and a whimper escaped as she realized what was going to happen. "Your pack really shouldn't let you stray, someone like me could come and take you," his claw dug into her hip and ripped, pulling blood and fabric as sliced down her thigh.
Instinctually her leg shot up, but he blocked it with one of his and tisked, shaking his head at her attempt.
She bit down on the palm of his hand, tasting blood she gagged again as it entered her mouth and coated her lips.
"You little bitch," he pulled his hand away with a hiss. He only glanced at a moment before turning those feral black eyes on her. His hand struck her hard causing her vision to bluer.
