A Rogue Of One's Own Novels & Stories

The scenery couldn’t be worst, the gold diggers transform themselves and two others drew knives, coming to us, enraged, by listening Geffrey say: “They are looters, they came to steal your gold, attack them.” Uncle Ronan turns his head back his appearance distorted and howls, transforming himself in a gray scary mortal wolf, going after Geffrey who was running down the road. The bullets whirred everywhere and the gold diggers grouped themselves to attack us. Far away, uncle Quinn enters a knife fight with two gold diggers, hitting them not giving a chance to escape, but the other is able to sink a knife in his thigh. When getting ready for a second blow on uncle Quinn’s ribs, Adam hits him w

Dinner was nothing fancy, just instant noddles with rich, spicy broth that made her tear up, although she wasn’t sure the tears were only because of the spice. They all huddled together in the training room, the next biggest room after the common room, and they laid their sleeping bags together, but none of them could fall asleep for fear that they could be attacked. “I was thrown out of my pack when my mate died, and his parents linked his death to mine.” A voice rang out in the silence, and everyone turned to look at the owner. “No amount of pleading would make them believe I had no part in his death, and my parents were sucking up to his just because they were our alpha’s. I had no choice

Rogues steer clear of human towns and other wear wolves are unlikely to try to invade for risk of exposing themselves. Following Darien inside he shows me where I can put my clothes and shift. I call Braxton forward, feeling him pass through me and take control. Light grey hair sprouting all over my body, joints snapping, I’m brought to my knees. Twisting and contorting my body changing shape. It wasn’t as painful this time and within a few minutes I was once again a passenger in my body.

The dew-covered grass appears to be covered in a layer of silver as the light from the moon above reflects off the dewdrops. I almost sigh in relief at the sight of it. But a shadow flickers on the ground and I freeze, my bow already poised and ready to shoot. The all-too familiar black leather with the silver raven emblem of the rogues stitched into the back comes into view, making my head spin. A rogue called me here. . . It’s clearly a male from the broadness of the shoulders and the cropped dark hair. Blood soaks his left arm, and I could see from the way the shoulders heave with each breath that he is in pain.

“You slept for so long that I began to worry you would never wake up.” “How long was it?” I rasp, my voice hoarse from a combination of disuse and lack of water. “Five days,” the man responds. “Who are you?” I interrupt before he can continue. “Ah. Of course. Where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself. I am Clay Denvo. The king of the rogues,” he says as he gestures widely with his arms. “I didn’t know that the rogues have a leader,” I respond coolly.

But that assumption was clearly bullshit. Rogues weren’t just dangerous, they were unpredictable, savage, and unbound by any laws of a pack. Outcasts who had been stripped of rank, banished for rebelling, who now tore through the world like beasts of vengeance. And when they weren’t being hunted, they hunted back. One rule about rogues: They never came alone. I turned to run, but the air shifted. The wind hissed through the trees unnaturally fast, and before my foot could even lift off the ground, something dropped from above.

Every touch from him was defined as though she didn't need any other touch except his. “He is there to guard the external axis of the pack territory. My men have certain levels they guard and once a rogue...” he looked at her guessing she wouldn't understand what a rogue meant. “A rogue is a wolf that doesn't have a pack-like family. They are criminals so we don't like them. Therefore if the rogue passes the internal territory and my men aren't able to catch him, the fox will. There's no way a criminal can escape without having blood on him so the fox will detect him by the blood.” He explained gently removing the dirt on her wound and she watched.

He anticipated the rogue's strikes, countering with a combination of acrobatics and brute strength. At a crucial juncture, a particularly formidable rogue with a scarred face emerged as the group's apparent leader. Limuel faced off against the scarred rogue, a formidable adversary leading a group of rogues with malicious intent. The moon cast an ethereal glow upon the battleground, where the clash between the two forces unfolded. In an effort to breach Limuel's defenses, the scarred rogue used a combination of rage and desperation.

Stark chuckled, the sound making my heart flutter then went ahead to carry the tray of bacon sandwich. “You need to eat.“ he says placing the tray on my lap. I smile shyly. “Thanks.“ My attempt at eating took time, not wanting to rush myself in fear of nausea and the neverending gaze of Stark's eyes was on me all the while. He had hardly moved as I ate, a sigh leaves his lips as he explained what a rogue was. “They are lone wolves.“ he began. “Rebels and without a pack, either kicked out or ran away from their pack to live on their own in the wild. They are usually dangerous and threats to packs.“ He exhaled loudly and pauses.

“The man who attacked me. He referred to me as a… ‘rogue’ Luna. I wasn’t sure what that meant.” “Nothing,” he said defensively. “It doesn’t mean anything. He’s clearly just out of his mind. Don’t worry about it.” But this wasn’t good enough. He still hadn’t told me. “Kieran… what does it mean?” And I felt him softly sigh. “A rogue is… someone who doesn’t belong to a pack. They’re usually people who wander alone, unable to join anywhere due to their past. A past that is unforgivable and where they’ve committed atrocious, inexcusable acts. They’re all… criminals.”