The Wulf Chronicles
Wulf Chron Book 1
Wulf Francu Godgluck
Release Date: 06.11.18
COVER DESIGN: KELLIE @ BOOK COVER BY DESIGN
What if werewolves were real?
What if one of them was different?
What if you were a defective werewolf?
This is not the story of how one night I got bitten and my life changed. Nor is it the story of how I went on a savage killing spree that left me tormented with guilt and dread the next morning.
This is the story of a boy, a boy who’s spent his life running from the shadows of monsters. A boy who never understood why the world hated him with so much odium. Why his mother would throw away her only life to protect his. Why he was never allowed to have friends. Why he never had the childhood every child should. Why he was never allowed to cherish happiness.
This is the story of a boy becoming himself, embracing his vulnerability and learning to accept and love.
This is a story about a werewolf, trying to find the answers to why he was born defective.
And maybe that’s the very reason I become the main course on the menu.
A lycan’s sexual orientation was a completely nonproblematic topic. Most lycans, before meeting and knowing the gender of their mates, tended to be bisexual, however, there were the few cases, as with Leo, where a lycan knew beforehand what gender they were drawn to. And, luckily, the mating call was never cruel in that regard.
Contrary to how prejudice and discriminatory the Council and lycan community’s views on females were, homosexuality had never fazed the lycan race. It was part of their ancestry, as natural and accepting as bleeding.
“Go,”she growled at him, “before you shatter my stoic façade and have me in tears. I’m honored to know this beautiful thing is happening in my presence.”
Leo smiled, turned, and ascended the stairs, his grin fading as he neared the bathroom the Beta occupied.
He clutched the doorknob, squeezing his eyelids and drawing in a shaky breath, willing himself to calm down.
The knob ripped from under Leo’s grasp as the door swung open, the momentum of Cooler’s movements and of Leo’s stumble at the abrupt occurrence, sent them colliding into each other.
Cooler grabbed Leo by the throat and shoved him against the bathroom wall, his one eye glowing a furious blue fire as he glared up at him.
“If the pretty puppy wanted a kiss, all he had to do was whimper.”
Leo swallowed against the clutched grip squeezing his windpipe, any response stuck in his throat. Cooler leaned in close, released Leo’s neck, and cupped the back of his head, pulling him down before sealing their lips together.
Fire screamed through him, heat gnawed to the tips of Leo’s fingertips and toes as Cooler wrenched open Leo’s lips with nip of his teeth, shoving his fat tongue into Leo’s mouth…
No one said a lycan claiming his mate was a pretty event.
The kiss that followed was a soft and gentle devastation of sweet hunger.
Cooler’s lips were pure lightning against Leo’s, every hair on his body pulsated to attention. His growl simmered through their mouths, giving Leo ample knowledge of how much power resided within his mate, the vibration, a thunder, rattled him to his soul.
He didn’t dare touch Cooler. Just because they were sucking lips, didn’t mean the Beta had accepted Leo as his.
Cooler pulled back, his eye a bone-chilling dark as he glared up into Leo’s gaze.
Fat fingers slid from behind Leo’s neck, mapping their way along his cheek to brush over his lips, only to catch him by the chin.
Leo closed his eyes, both needing and dreading the words about to spill from his mate.
But time stretched, and it stretched, and it stretched as he waited.
His lips moved involuntarily, quivering, ready to speak, but only a whimper undulated through him. Cooler grunted, halting Leo’s tongue and washing hot air up into Leo’s face, reminding him of how close the Beta’s lips were to his own.
His insides squirmed, anticipating, hoping and wanting Cooler to bless him with another taste.
No kiss came, no words either. Only the scent of his mate. A spicy, intoxicating, rugged musk. Prime Bloods tended to have a heavier, far more domineering scent than half-breeds. That and, of course, the raw power they emanated were the only physical truths that set them apart.
They come to me in the night, creeping into my head. Their voices are all different, their stories all dissimilar, but they keep saying the same thing...
“Show us, tell us to the world. Bring us into yours, and make us known.”
Then I sit and they take over. They tell their tales of love, loss and sinister misfortune, not all of them get a happy ending, but they are pleased when their part is written.
I sometimes find myself lost in my own mind; a world very similar to our own yet so different. Things don't go bump in the night—they squeal, and crawl under your skin, making you grind your teeth, and your stomach turn over and put your nerves on edge. Then there's the drama. Oh, the drama!
I write because I must! There is so much inside of me that needs to get out. So many stories to tell, characters that want to be heard, and hearts lost and won. Words and art are my way of bringing my world to others. I enjoy telling tales of the human condition but working in elements of the supernatural. Werewolves, Vampires, Zombies, Witches and the unexplainable all set against the human world or worlds of their own.
Wulf Francú Godgluck hails from South Africa. His work is not for the faint-hearted! In his books, you'll find... all the beasties with their nasty claws and teeth, and some you didn't even know existed. But the monsters aren't all real. Some live inside us. Who knows what he will make you discover about yourself, lurking in your heart, behind the closed walls of the deep, black recesses where no light penetrates? Wulf will steal your heart and never give it back. More than likely, he'll pin it to the wall with a bobby pin and sit there sipping his tea while you writhe and squeal on the floor... STILL sure you want to read a Wulf Godgluck book?