Emma Walker Killer Novels & Stories

“Elliot—” “Do you know anything about the process of rejection?” I cut him off, willing his anger to remain at bay by masking my interaction as a question towards Elliot Osborne with a voice full of hope. There must be a case where a human is mated to a werewolf. And if I am the first one to be in that case, then— I’m screwed. Elliot averted his gaze, forcing his feet to enter his messy kitchen. He grabbed a wooden stool chair and stood on top of it, reaching for something.

Emma said. She hefted the hatchet. “I mean it!” Pushing a massive palm into the drift beside him, the wendigo pulled a felled tree from the drift. Scraping a splinter from the bark, it began to pick its teeth. The words came out in a dead man’s whisper, and even through the bitter cold that came with them, Emma could smell the rot. “Aah, little Emmie. I thought I heard someone knocking at my parlor door. Someone . . . ripe.”

Who stays in the dark and deal in the dark. Three of us seek every point of this world to search for them and we did. The only thing that I can remember is killing the last member of this pack who has the same tattoo on their nape. A Series of lines were connected across the entirety of what looks like a canine. A small circle connects each line forming a disturbing image, a disturbing mark. “ Hail thy Erebusias.” That voice. I turned around and see Victoria Stephens leaning on the door. Her face is pale as her body trembles and her eyes are fixated over the body in front of us.

Emma clutched the folder tightly against her chest. The hidden door above burst open. Marcus stepped onto the staircase with nearly twenty armed men behind him. He smiled as his eyes landed on Emma. "There you are." His gaze shifted to the black folder in her hands. "Now..." "Hand me what's mine." Emma took one step backward. Her heart pounded. She knew that folder contained the truth her father had died protecting. And she also knew... Marcus Kane would kill every one of them to get it.

"You make me feral and wild and insane. I don't care what lines we have to cross. If anyone else even dares to look at you, I promise... I’ll eliminate their existence.” ~ In the sleepy town of Sunset, Louisiana, sweet preacher’s daughter Emma Grant has always played by the rules... until the night a lethal sniper walks into her life. Colt “Mile-shot” Whitaker is a dangerous outsider with a reputation for destruction and a gaze that strips her bare. When Emma's protective best friend Sawyer claims her as his own to keep her safe, the forbidden spark between Emma and Colt only ignites hotter.

One contained exactly one paragraph about actual werewolves sandwiched between twelve pages of nonsense. The chair beside behind her screeched as someone sat down. Emma's thumb jammed against the lock button so hard she nearly cracked her phone screen. Was she cursed with this girl? Why did she always have to appear where she was? If she did not know better, she would have called Sarah a stalker. Sarah’s top was more of a suggestion of a fabric than an actual clothing. The pale pink fabric was so thin, Emma thought she could count the exact number of freckles behind it.

I turned off the water and I sat there not doing anything but allowing the heat of the water pleasure my cold body. I began to wash my body and wash and wash till I got tired of washing. I still hear them; I still see blood. But I kill bad people. I can't be weak. I kill bad people. I am a killer!! I got out and got ready for bed but then I remembered me wanting to take ice cream so I walked out of my room to get it. The kitchen was empty and so was the living room. I took the bowl of ice cream, vanilla flavour and sat on the table in the middle of the kitchen and took the ice cream.

Emma It was 2 am and I was still cleaning the kitchen, I had a few more dishes left on the counter. I have worked a lot. I wanted to sleep. Finally, I was done. I can go to bed. I am an omega, I do not have parents, they died 10 years ago in the big war between the two biggest opposite werewolves packs who were fighting for territory and supremacy.

Cal was using her, using her girlhood and her innocence to protect his sexuality while he hunted the man he truly desired. Emma’s heart felt dead, the warmth in her chest replaced by a cold, sharp ice. She backed away from the door, her vision blurring as she looked for a place to hide. She found a small service alcove just as the door to room 901 opened. She watched from the shadows, her hand clamped over her mouth to keep from screaming as Cal stepped out. He looked flushed and triumphant, a smug smile on his face as he adjusted his shirt and walked toward the elevators without a hint of guilt. He didn't look like a man who had just cheated; he looked like a man who had finally arrived. Em

Emma woke up with a jolt. When he eyes shot open, she looked around the strange room which reeked of herbs and medicine. She was sweating so much that her entire blouse was wet. Her head felt heavy. She closed her eyes and thought of the last thing she remembered which was Michelle wriggling in pain on the floor. Her hand instinctively moved to her chest where there had been a wound. It had healed. She didn’t understand why Michelle had also been in pain. The only reasonable answer was that a witch had linked them so that Michelle would also die if she killed Emma. Could Casey have done it?