Werewolf Quotes - Page 2

You tell a soul or even God Hisself what you seen when the rougarou changes , or even that you met one, and a year ain’t passed, you’re liable to change to one yourself.

Samuel Snoek-Brown

Hidden in a toolbox, in the rafters of his four-car garage, was an envelope full of pictures taken by a private detective...They were pictures of a scrawny, boyish looking nine year old with a wide mouth and a tangle of brown hair...Her eyes were oblong and deep set, their color hidden from the camera by the slant of the sun. The angles and planes of her face were oddly beautiful just then, in that moment, frozen on Kodak paper. A hint of the woman she would someday become.

Shirley A. Martin

The wolf had begun hunting human prey. They were plentiful in the dark city streets and provided enough good meat to satiate his gnawing hunger. He was still very careful not to let any who saw him live. To do otherwise would displease the Master. He would only stalk those people that were foolish enough to walk alone in the night

Brian S. Ference

Middling monsters died at the point of pitchforks, burned with torches, or at the butt of silver-capped canes wielded by angry, geriatric Poles. Middling people were dime-a-dozen, emptied souls, shorn sheeple, human husks. A good monster didn’t worry about what it was doing; it just did it. A true predator didn’t worry about guilt, or being popular, or anything. It just cruised along, living for the kill, surviving. A good person, well, she’d put a bullet in her head or weigh her feet down and throw herself into the Chicago River, holding her breath until she went to the sludgy, filthy bottom, and had to open wide and breathe water until she died.

D.T. Neal

She couldn't detach from him, couldn't catch her breath, and didn't want to. Not ever again.

It was cold, dark & lonely in the great cathedral-like chambers, with only coffins and corpses for company.

Billie-Jo Williams

So you want me to track down a supernaturally fast sniper who can disappear into thin air, retrieve your maps, and do it so nobody finds out what I'm doing or why?''Exactly.'I sighed. 'I'll get the paperwork.

She once told him about the mysterious trampled-down places found in fields, which the peasants superstitiously called werewolves' nests. Coming across one of these sites, she fell to her knees and buried her face in the flattened yellow grasses, hoping to inhale the odor of a werewolf, a csordásfarkas. As if his scent was a charm. She smelled nothing but hay burned by the afternoon sun.

Oberon’s been kidnapped along with one of the werewolves, and that’s why we’re all so upset. We’ll talk more tomorrow, and I promise to answer all your questions if I survive the night,” I said. The widow’s eyebrows raised. “Ye’ve got all these nasty pooches to run around with and ye still might die?” “I’m going to go fight with a god, some demons, and a coven of witches who all want to kill me,” I said, “so it’s a distinct possibility.” “Are y’goin’ t’kill ’em back?” “I’d certainly like to.” “Attaboy,” the widow chuckled. “Off y’go, then. Kill every last one o’ the bastards and call me in the mornin’.

Crazy is such a misunderstood term. I like to think that I march to the beat of my own drummer.

Eva Sloan

Although only three legs would obey him, the white wolf began to run. Run, to outpace the agony that could rip and tear a human heart. Run, to outdistance the human grief that could not be borne. Run, to be as the moon, a swift white shape gleaming in the night. Run, to be a wolf and only a wolf.As he raced away into the welcoming arms of the night, James was only fleetingly aware that he had just buried his human self alongside Evelyn.And then he was aware of nothing.

By the time she yanked on her old jeans and a battered plaid flannel shirt, she felt almost normal. Calm, as she plugged in the coffee pot. But the nightmare was still very much on her mind, because it wasn’t a dream…It was a memory.

I’m almost used to you showing up without shoes, but where the hell are your pants?

Ridiculous! I couldn’t marry, mate, or whatever it entailed with Zane. He was a werewolf. With my assorted backgroundI was all for interracial relationships. Interspecies? — The jury was still out on that possibility.

And what if I need something?''Find it yourself.'Connor tsk-ed. 'Where did all the niceties go?''You're not a guest. You're family. Find your own fucking towels.

Flynn?’Without thinking, she took a small step toward the wolf.Its ears cocked forward at the sound of the name, and it too took a step forward. Then froze. She shook her head. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘You look like someone I know.’The wolf regarded her closely.‘That sounds stupid, huh?’No response. Just that intense stare.‘You aren’t going to eat me, are you?

But there was something different about Flynn, and it wasn't just the way he was looking at her. His grip tightened on her wrist--not painfully, but possessively. His other arm went up as he leaned against the shelving, effectively boxing her in with his body without making any further contact.To her horror, she felt herself go warm and liquid in places she shouldn't. "Let go of me." Evie whispered.His eyes were green. A bright mind-blowing green. And they were staring into hers intently, daring her to lean in closer, to taste those sinful lips...

If Flynn hadn't known his older brother for the addicted, lying sack of shit he was, he might have believed the pain he saw in that gaze, might have trusted that Connor had finally seen the error of his ways and was going to change his life and step out of their father's shadow. But Connor usually only had an epiphany if it got him laid, increased his bank balance, or severely pissed off Rupert.

That was why he still hadn’t called her. He wasn’t sure what the hell he was going to say if she picked up. Evie, I’m really sorry about acting like a complete dick to you. Would you be willing to go out for lunch again? This time somewhere where my brother can’t kill anyone, and my fucked‐up father won’t take revenge for my letting it happen by trying to kill you?

Being with her was near impossible.But being without her… I didn’t want to think about it. -- Aren from Hunter's Moon

I hated lying to my family.I had no choice.As a werewolf, the pack’d go apeshit if they found out I’d spent the last few months shagging a cat.~Kyle Larsen

You mean run away? Wolves don't run from a fight." Rebecca Winters in Lone Wolf Rising

If you're outmatched, out-numbered, out-skilled, you'll run and live to fight another day." Lucky stopped jogging and pulled her close to him. He gently forced her eyes to lock with his. "You need to understand there are plenty of predators in our world who are far more dangerous than you'll ever be. Those are the ones you need to fear and, in a way, respect." ~ Lucky from Lone Wolf Rising

My nerves were wrapped so tight I could explode at any second. Some jaguar reciting poetry was not helping. “Just tell me which way to go, Shakespeare.

This time, I wanted to enjoy the passion that burned between us until we were both about to combust.

I have decided to change something. I am thinking I may want to go by Aimee again.”- Aimee (Marked Book #1) page 102

I am yours. Whatever you ask of me it is done.”- Marc (Marked Book #1) page 179

Aimee turned and walked out, giving him a wink and a smile, careful not to part her lips. His reaction to her fangs, as amusing as it may be, would hurt her chances of blending in.” – Aimee (Marked Book #1) page 215

First, you must be certain that you are ready for knowledge. There are many things that we bury in our minds for a reason. Are you sure that you want to go digging up the past?”- Elsie (Marked Book #1) page 226

I’m not trying to fix you. I don’t think you’re broken.”- Damian (Marked Book #1) page 266

I am a guardian of sorts.”- Liam (Marked Book #1) page 171

Is it wrong to protect your heart?”- Marc (Marked Book #1) page 130

I would have done better to cherish my good memories. I know that you were trying to protect me, and I admire you for that. I wish now that I had let you.”- Aimee (Marked Book #1) page 288

So you are vampire then, my beauty?”- Damian (Marked Book #1) page 160

You knew I would find you and you knew what I'd do when I did." -Cort (The Carver's Problem)

Close your eyes and relax. One kiss. I don’t bite.” His hand brushed her cheek. “At least not hard.”“That’s a joke, right? Because I have proof you do bite hard.

Once a month, for one evening, we are free to wear our natural skins. We are on the outside as we are internally.

We aren't taught to mourn. We're told to forget.

With her face tilted up to his, the subtle edge of moonlight touched along the edge of one high cheekbone, the tilted edge of one eye, and those beautiful, enticing lips. Obeying an impulse he couldn’t put into words, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

A piercing screech from above caught my attention. However, it was the arm landing beside me with teeth marks that let me know what was going on. “Can you be a little more careful where you let body parts fall?”- Faith, Witch Devotions

Elizabeth J. Kolodziej

Fate and destiny go hand in hand. It is impossible to change our destiny. Only the path upon which we walk to reach our destination alters. If we should stray from that path, fate will take control and guide us in the right direction.

A warrior knows death is always a hair's breadth away, but he doesn't dwell on the possibility of his death when he goes into battle. A warrior just fights. He fights to protect his family, his home, his people, himself, and often, the good of man. The wolf never gives a passing thought to the possibility of his death. For the wolf, he will fight to the end if need be, solely to defend his territory. Neither of these things are necessarily a reason to enter into battle when you are already weakened. They just are what they are. They live in a warrior's heart, in a wolf's heart. And both, for me, are in my heart.

At that moment, I wished I were the wind, free to dance across her flesh, seep through her clothing, and explore the forbidden depths of her body beneath.

Sean Holloway. (J.A. Belfield)

You don’t have a monopoly on pain or loss. It’s a level playing field—we all lose—we all grieve. It’s what remains afterwards that defines us. Guilt is the poison we pump into our own veins. It’s self-inflicted torture.

R. W. Patterson

The world won't end with a bang or a whimper. It'll end with the death screams of a thousand demons and a defiant, carefree, savage, wolfen howl.

Which side was I on? There was no time to search for answers. All I could do now was ride on a werewolf's back, toward a destiny as hidden as the dark side of the moon.

Neal Shusterman

Okay. We've got about twenty minutes before I get mean again.' She laughed, relieved the night was still young, 'What are you, some kind of sex-werewolf?

There was a feeling on the air like the eve of the end of the world.

Billie-Jo Williams

A wounded animal yet bears teeth

Billie-Jo Williams

For every blissful moment you must an anguish meet.

Billie-Jo Williams

Charlotte." Kate attempted to distract the child from her endless questions and held up the glass tube. "This is wulfsyl. I can't be sure it's correct."The girl looked at Kate with excitement, then asked hopefully, "Will it stop me from eating someone?"Kate looked uncomfortable. "We believe that if you take it now, you will n ever have to eat someone.""But what if I do?""Eat Malcolm," Simon suggested.

No amount of speed could break me of this darkness... The sorrow is ever clinging to me.

And I realize, so suddenly that it hurts, just how empty a creature can be, while still filled to the brim with drowning agony.

Thank you,” I managed to say.Replying with a nod, he approached my horse. “Here, let me help you—”I slipped down myself before he could lend a hand, keeping the fur hide in my possession. “I’m not suddenly incapable because I wear a dress, Thaddeus.”“I wasn’t suggesting….” Wisely, he let the issue drop.Lifting an arm, he offered it to me. That’s when I noticed my sword in sheath belted to his waist.“That’s mine!” I declared, reaching for the hilt.Thaddeus managed a quick side-step. He hardened his jaw at my look of incredulity. I would only wait momentarily for an explanation. “I know the sword is yours, Catherine, everyone knows that. But you’re too beautiful tonight to ruin that radiant look with an ugly, leather belt strapped about you.”I was starting to think the man was using compliments as a weapon to defend himself against me. It did work to temper my anger somewhat.“I brought the sword as a cautionary act, just in case those nasty werewolves show up. Seeing how I’ll be standing beside you all evening, the blade will be at your disposal if needed.”I accepted his reasoning and stood down. “Besides,” Thaddeus added, apparently feeling safe, “what’s yours is mine now anyway.”I glared at the fool. “That works both ways, you know.”He rolled his eyes and shrugged. “If it must.”Again, he offered me his arm which I grudgingly accepted.

Richelle E. Goodrich

Nevertheless, the potential and actual importance of fantastic literature lies in such psychic links: what appears to be the result of an overweening imagination, boldly and arbitrarily defying the laws of time, space and ordered causality, is closely connected with, and structured by, the categories of the subconscious, the inner impulses of man's nature. At first glance the scope of fantastic literature, free as it is from the restrictions of natural law, appears to be unlimited. A closer look, however, will show that a few dominant themes and motifs constantly recur: deals with the Devil; returns from the grave for revenge or atonement; invisible creatures; vampires; werewolves; golems; animated puppets or automatons; witchcraft and sorcery; human organs operating as separate entities, and so on. Fantastic literature is a kind of fiction that always leads us back to ourselves, however exotic the presentation; and the objects and events, however bizarre they seem, are simply externalizations of inner psychic states. This may often be mere mummery, but on occasion it seems to touch the heart in its inmost depths and become great literature.

Franz Rottensteiner

Brian came in heavy at that moment on his guitar, the rapid, high-pitched squeal ranging back and forth as his fingers flew along the frets. As the intro's tempo grew more rapid, Bekka heard Derek's subtle bass line as it worked its way in. After another few seconds Will came in, slow at first, but racing along to match the others' pace. When their combined efforts seemed unable to get any heavier, David jumped into the mix.As the sound got nice and heavy, Bekka began to rock back-and-forth onstage. In front of her, hundreds of metal-lovers began to jump and gyrate to their music. She matched their movements for a moment, enjoying the connection that was being made, before stepping over to the keyboard that had been set up behind her. Sliding her microphone into an attached cradle, she assumed her position and got ready. Right on cue, all the others stopped playing, throwing the auditorium into an abrupt silence. Before the crowd could react, however, Bekka's fingers began to work the keys, issuing a rhythm that was much softer and slower than what had been built up. The audience's violent thrash-dance calmed at that moment and they began to sway in response.Bekka smiled to herself.This is what she lived for.

Are you ready to go home, Catherine?” he asked. “It’s warm inside the house. I kept a fire going for you.”I continued looking at him, unsure how to respond. “Thanks,” I managed to say and then glanced in the direction of his house—our house. “Well, you are my wife. And I know you don’t like the cold.”I’m his wife, I thought to myself. He had said the words as if that simple fact made it necessary to be both thoughtful and kind. As if having gained a wife or husband meant having also gained her or his concerns, and hence the need to consider the person’s needs, wants, and preferences as strongly as one’s own. It struck me as a perfect description of what marriage ought to be. An agreeable notion that had not entered into my petty way of viewing matrimony. I would have assumed it to be above Thaddeus’ egotistical mindset as well.“Catherine?” he said again, watching me regard him with a quizzical expression. “Are you ready to go home?”I nodded, which made him smile.

Richelle E. Goodrich

Fire and ice licked at his soul—whispered his name—drawing him deeper into the enveloping pain and blackness as he’d dreamed earlier. He suddenly wished to return to the rippling stream. The water would wash away the blistering pain…the fire…the burn. He’d wade deeper…submit to the current…He’d let go…

R. W. Patterson

It's what we do, we continue on. Yet, what is the point? There is nothing ahead of us when there is nothing left of us.

Putting on the collar is taking charge of unexpected situations. Keeping humans from taking control from me. To tell hunters that I'm not prey. Not a trophy by wearing the collar. I looked at the circlet again. Looking deeper, I see not subjugation, but a tool of power to control my fate in the world of man that symbolizes my ownership over both my nature spirit and wolf-self.

Previous 1 2 3 Next