100 Savage Roasts Novels & Stories

“But if you’re looking for more specific details, Filet Mignon and Smashed Potatoes.” “Smashed?” He nodded, opening up the oven to show her. “Red potatoes roasted until they’re very soft, then broiled for a crispy outside, then you smash them with a wooden spoon until they’re half squashed, basically. Delicious.” “Smells soooooo good.” She closed her eyes and breathed in the delicious aroma. “I’m starving! So red wine, then?” As he closed the oven door, he paused, then shut it. “I thought we’d not drink tonight.”

This was the strangest thing he had ever experienced; his wolf wasn't responding and wasn't something common. As he ran through the thick, dark forest, he mistakenly fell into a pit. “Ahh!” Alpha Ryder shrieked sorrowfully as he fell into the pit. Upon raising his head, he saw the four hungry wolves staring at him. They were eager to tear him apart, and he could see that in their eyes. The biggest wolf roared, and the remaining three wolves responded by howling, making the birds nearby fly away. On the other hand, Alpha Ryder covered his ears with his palms to block his eardrums from being affected by the roaring.

Sol Ming looked up to the sky, and then heard an angry roar of a man. “What do you think you’re doing to my partner?” Up the high-slope of the ground, there stands a tanned, colored man. He is bare-naked at the top with the similar animal hides down on his dog waist, eight-pack abdominal muscles look so majestic, and the long vertical scar made by a beast was shown all over him. The facial features of the man are seven-points, near perfection if only it weren’t for the beard on his face that wasn’t shaved hiding the lips of this person.

I allowed myself to succumb to the rhythm, dancing till I became one with the music. Drawn by the irresistible aroma, I followed it through the pulsating crowd until I stumbled upon the source. Amidst the vibrant chaos, my eyes locked onto the owner of the delicious scent that drew me here. He sat in a corner, his huge, viking features illuminated by the dim lights. His green eyes were fixated on me. Without questioning the boldness that seized me, I approached and took a seat at his table. His first words, a single word, cut through the noise. "Rogue."

I couldn't help but be drawn to this enigmatic person, and the intoxicating scent that seemed to surround them. A primal instinct roared to life within me, and a low, rumbling growl vibrated through my chest. "Mate!" my wolf snarled, the word echoing in my mind like a battle cry. As if sensing my wolf's claim, the stranger's head snapped around, their eyes locking onto mine with an unnerving intensity. A single word spilled from their lips, husky and raw: "Mate!" The moment our gazes met, reality seemed to warp and twist. My mind recoiled in horror as I took in the stranger's features—the sharp jawline, the piercing eyes, the chiseled physique. This couldn't be happening.

I had refused Massachusetts' medicine, hoping Vicky could treat me instead, but the chaos of recent events had kept me from her. "What do you propose I do?" "If you wish," Massachusetts said with a deliberate drawl that made my skin crawl, making me suspect that his suggestion would be unappealing to hear, "you may sell the affected part of your soul to me." I frowned, confused. "I will take the corrupted portion as payment, and you may keep the rest. You will be split in two, Ragnar, if you need clarity. But you will be alive," he said sharply, his eyes blinking rapidly as he averted his gaze.

People murmured to one another in low tones, their words carefully measured. At the edge of a small market, she noticed the first deliberate act. A cart loaded with goods had been overturned. The fruit inside had spilled, partially rotting, and a few crates were cracked and broken. At first glance, it seemed accidental—a careless animal, perhaps, or wind. But her instincts told her otherwise. She knelt and inspected the scene. There were no footprints leading to the cart from any obvious direction. The hinges on the crate had been loosened. Someone had acted intentionally, but quietly. Subtle sabotage. A test.

“He will die, baby, but not by you. Let me…” “What the hell do you mean I’m going to die? Why? Because you slut of a wife came on to me…?” Pope’s voice was shrill, but I didn’t let him finish. My fist smashed into his cheek. The bone splintered, I punched him again for good measure. In the distance the roar of bikes filled my ears. The Savage Sons were coming.

“Yeah, me too! I want something wild. Something completely out of character. Sex in public, maybe? I've been a good girl for too long. Oh, how I want my Alpha crush would appear out of nowhere and have his way with me.” “Alpha crush?” I asked hastily, knowing they'd have to face me shortly. How the hell was I supposed to know what I wanted when I haven't even experienced sex itself? “Alpha Leon. Have you guys heard of him?” Layla nodded. “The pure-blood? I heard he is dangerous. People get scared shitless just from the mention of his name. They call him Savage Alpha, the bringer of death because that's what he does. He kills.” I leaned in closer, my curiosity in the story unexpectedly piqued

Raven Steele was her masterpiece—clean background, tragic story, exactly the kind of person who could infiltrate a motorcycle club seeking revenge. The bar's door swung open, spilling amber light and the stench of whiskey and cigarettes onto the wet pavement. A man filled the doorway, his massive frame blocking most of the light. Even in shadow, there was no mistaking who he was: Jax Savage, president of the Savage Saints MC, the most feared motorcycle club in three states. Six-foot-four of muscle and menace, with hazel eyes that missed nothing and hands that had spilled more blood than most soldiers. "You lost, princess?" His voice rumbled like distant thunder, each syllable carrying the we