Best 194 quotes in «werewolf quotes» category

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.

If it looked like a duck, and quacked like a duck, then guess what? It was probably a goddamned werewolf.

If only I could handle my problems like a video-game style battle against a boss. But there are no power-ups in real life. No FTW moment when I can declare total pwnage. I don’t even know who the bad guys are.

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

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

I got a whiff of minty fresh breath. Definitely not, what I'd expect from a wild wolf.

I handed him a beaker and toyed with the pleats of my skirt. The folds kept rippling against my knees in a distracting way. It was one of Naomi's additions to my wardrobe. I quickly decided that I hated it.

I'm alpha of my own pack of one, wild self or no wild self, before I'm a loyal member of yours.

I heard the man and woman cry a warning as I frantically racked my brain for some sort of throat-repairing spell, which I was clearly about to need. Of course the only words that I actually managed to yell at the werewolf as he ran at me were, 'BAD DOG!' Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of blue light on my left. Suddenly, the werewolf seemed to smack into an invisible wall just inches in front of me.... "You know," someone said off to my left, "I usually find a blocking spell to be a lot more effective than yelling 'Bad dog,' but maybe that's just me.

I love talking to spirits. Maybe we can try contacting Marilyn Monroe or Elvis Presley next.

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

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

Lastly and most importantly, I bought a dozen new bras and twenty pairs of underwear. Having ripped my last two really good ones to shreds during my change, I figured these were a good investment. They probably wouldn’t last very long. I bit my lip and went back and got four more of each. “Seriously, Grazi, what are you going to do with all those bras and panties? And you really should consider a thong.”

Now that I had run out of steam I realized I was in Ronan’s room, at night. He was standing there in a pair of boxers and nothing else. Gulp. Maybe I shouldn’t be too hasty to throw away this betrothal. Ew. Great, Grazi, why not just drool all over the boy in his underwear after you pretty much told him you wanted nothing to do with him? I’m such a freak. “Um, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I turned around and left as quickly as I had come in.

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

Innocent? Tell me human, who among you is innocent? Who among you has not destroyed without need or hurt without pity? Should a lion ponder his role in thinning the herds? Does he question whether or not he is doing the right thing as he tears into a zebra’s flesh?” he snarled. His next words were slow and measured, and more to himself than to Natalya. “No….he knows only that he has teeth and claws….and an insatiable lust for blood.

I'm not copying you!" Luke said. "A werewolf is totally different than a vampire! You're creepy all the time. Mine is just, like, a monthly thing...." "Like PMS?" I suggested. "Shut up!

I'm not the one encouraging werewolves to go out at the full moon and attack people on the dance floor," Magnus said. "But perhaps we can settle which of us is tte dumbass at a better time when there aren't lives at stake.

In a werewolf pack, you cannot interfere with the mate choice of a clan fellow. You cannot intentionally harm that werewolf’s chosen mate. You are not, however, required to help that person should he find himself in a life - threatening situation. Somehow, Zeb had managed to stumble into several such situations in the few months since he ’d been engaged to Jolene. He’d had several hunting “accidents” while visiting the McClaine farm, even though he didn’t hunt. The brakes on his car had failed while he was driving home from the farm—twice. Also, a running chainsaw mysteriously fell on him from a hayloft. He would never get that pinkie toe back.

Instead of celebrating with a cake (too full of poisonous refined sugars) and presents (too materialistic), my mother would come into my room at exactly 3:57 A.M. to tell me the story of my miraculous emergence into this world, as if it was some fairy tale. Although I supposed few fairy tales involved the words 'vaginal flowering'.

It’s so lame. Of all the colors in the rainbow we could have gotten, we get purple. Why don’t we just morph into purple dinosaurs named Barney instead of werewolves, too?

Is there more to see?" Brixton asks. "No. Just a long walk back to hope.

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

I swear it looked like she wanted her words to slither around us and go out the door unheard.

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.

It takes two, and each couple’s bonding experience is different, just like falling in love is different for each couple. What it comes down to acceptance of whatever that common ground you share is that makes your bonding one that will last

Valerie Sherwood, I said to myself, you're going to die.

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

I've fallen in love with you. I love you even now when you sit before me with the eyes of a wolf. So take pity upon the fool I have become. I forgot it was only a bargain between us.

I want something that'll give me the stamina of a young werewolf, the vision of a shaman, the thoughts of a serial killer and the gentleness of a hungry vampire bat.

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.

I went home and tried to sleep, but couldn't, so I stared up at the moon, watching how it's trailing edge faded into darkness, so close to being full, but not quite there. A pregnant moon, Grandma called it. Full almost to bursting, and ready to give birth to something unthinkable.

Love may be on the horizon, but beware something wicked this way comes.

My body slid from human to wolf in a crack! of black smoke. Wolf was panting and I watched frost dissipate on my hot tongue, sending tiny rivulets of steam into the air. The world was sharp and clear, and I never realized how many different colors of shadow there were. It made me savor the dark beauty of night even more.

Max,' I said, looking up at him, 'I love the Russian heritage you guys are so willing to share, but I'm not so thrilled with the French.' 'What?' His brows lowered. 'We're not French.' 'Great. So the next time you feel the need to kiss me, keep your tongue out of my mouth!

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.

Makes sense, the earth is quick to consume the flesh of things that ain't natural.

Maybe she saw the sweet persimmon sunrise─or maybe she was already too far gone.

My nerves did a jitter dance,

My nerves did a jitter dance, stuck between two wolves.

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.

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.

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

Nick stands behind me. He puts a hand on my waist. I yank in a breath. The world seems to swirl around me. “Are you going to faint?” he asks. I back into him and blurt, “But you’re so cute. Werewolves aren’t supposed to be cute. Vampires are, I think. They are in the movies. But the werewolves are pretty much ugly and they wear leather jackets and are all dirty with these monster sideburns.” “That’s all you have to say? That I’m cute?” He takes a stray piece of my hair and curls it around his fingers. “Most people faint or shriek or never talk to me again.

No había rastros de humanidad en su rostro, excepto en sus ojos, era una cabeza totalmente canina; y no había rastros de animalidad en su cuerpo excepto por el pelaje y la cola, era un cuerpo casi completamente humano. Como dije, una fusión perfecta y armónica entre ambas criaturas. La única forma en que hubiera podido explicarle a alguien cómo era con exactitud, y lo perfectamente construido que parecía, sólo lo hubiera logrado tomándole una foto. -- Johanna Miller

No electricity, fridge, TV or game console. I guess changing from human was enough fun and games for werewolves.

No shifting in my car Blake,I don't want slobber all over my seats." Neesa

Nudity was an inconvenient but unavoidable part of pack life. We’d all thought nothing of it before Leah came along. Then it got awkward.

No wonder he'd never really finished becoming one of us. We just thought it was because he was half Japanese, and lived in a huge house on the other side of town with a dad who was never home and who none of our parents had ever met. And possibly because he was an arrogant moody stuck-on-himself creepazoid And here he wasn't even a real gizmohead. He was just a grind. And a werewolf.

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’.