Aesthetica Rogue Hero の小説・ストーリー

I let out quietly, and suddenly I feel him growl deeply into my neck before he begins kissing my neck slowly, his grip tightening around my body as I feel him tense. "Mine..." He lets out with a low groan, his tone possessive as he keeps me closer to him. I press my lips together and force myself to breathe normally, but I don't manage it. I bring my hands to his chest in an attempt to push him away, but I only find myself pulling him closer. I can't believe this is happening to me right now. Cole Drakov is the Rogue King... and here he is... having me pinned against a tree as he kisses my neck and claims me as his... and the worst part is...

Andre, “I don’t know but something big is happening! I can feel it!” Evan, “please just chill, I don’t need this shit today!” I opened the door to the diner and her smell hit me first! The most amazing smell of dark chocolate coffee hit me and almost knocked me backward. The second thing I sensed is she is a rouge! What the hell is happening? How did I walk into the only restaurant that had a fucking rogue working there? I scanned the room until I locked eyes with the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. But she was a rogue!

The air was warm and natural, and it seemed as though many had heard, yet none would speak of it as they appeared to have considered it natural. Two days passed since tears had filled eyes and fear had gripped many at their weakest points. And unto the next day, what had happened at night had become a thing of the past as the smiles on faces sprang up out of sorrows of hearts. It seemed as though they had all adapted to the regular torture and torments of a rogued beast as such, evident in the rapid refurbishing of the damaged environments. The phantom's nature was specially chaos, that was knowledge known to all men and child. And its footprints were the massive destruction which could neve

Artemis immediately gets into a defensive stance just before the first rogue appears. The rogue leader shifts. “Well, well, well, what do we have here? A pretty little rogue she-wolf all by her alone, with no one to keep the little girl company. Maybe we can help that boys.” He says while laughing. The other rogues laugh along with him. I shift back and quickly put on my shirt and shorts. Looking at the rogue, I give him a disgusted look. “I am perfectly fine by myself, and i definitely don’t need you making sure I’m not by myself. Now leave me alone before I kick your ass” I reply snarkly.

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.

“You remember me, don’t you, Annabel?” Her blood ran cold. This wasn’t Elijah, but it carried his essence—his malice, his hunger for power. Whatever the Architect had done, he had turned Elijah into something unrecognizable. The rogue appeared at her side, his expression dark. “That’s not him. Not anymore.” Annabel didn’t take her eyes off the figure. “Then what is it?” “A weapon,” the rogue said. “One designed to destroy you.” The figure lunged, moving faster than any wolf Annabel had faced before. She barely had time to react, raising her claws to block the attack. Their strikes collided with a force that sent shockwaves through the clearing.

I see the way the energy isn’t flowing evenly anymore. And I see the center. That concentrated signature. Not Arachne’s magic. Not stable. It spikes again. Wild. Then it slams down. I feel something close to excitement curl in my stomach. Not joy. Not happiness. Something sharper. “She doesn’t have control over it,” I murmur. “Over the child?” Carter asks. “Over what the child is becoming.” Abomination. The signature flickers like a bad lightbulb. Erratic. Emotional. I imagine the girl inside that house. Helena’s daughter. Unaware. Untrained. A loaded weapon with no safety on.

Lyor grew up trapped in the Moon view temple, and he had never seen a rogue in person before, A rogue, an individual that was abandoned, disowned or had mutually cut off their link to their own clan is a unique existence in Selestine. They are free of the bindings of their clan, but they are also alone to survive in the vast land of Selestine while being subjected to the discrimination and disdain of the rest of the werewolf race. A tall figure jumped down from the last viewing room on the west side of the arena, and a handsome sunny young man landed smoothly with a smile adorning his sparkling black orbs.

Flora’s P.O.V I wrapped a bandage around Clay’s abdomen, careful not to tighten the cloth too much so his wounds could heal on their own. I was slowly starting to realize that being a rogue didn’t only mean mental instability, but there were certain physical drawbacks as well. Rogues didn’t heal as fast as any normal wolf would and they also became highly aggressive when injured. Even now, Clay was gritting his teeth together to stop himself from lashing out. I wasn’t worried though. Clay had always had iron control whenever he was with me, but what I was worried about, wasn’t his physical but mental state.

"You look like a rogue right now." I blinked up at him. A small smile touched the corners of my lips for the very first time in hours. It felt strange to smile, like my face had forgotten how to do it. "What does a rogue look like?" I asked. Dom kept his large hand tightly around my waist. He looked down at my face, his eyes softening, like he was examining me. "A rogue has wild, messy hair. Puffy eyes from crying too much. Red skin around the cheeks. The only difference is... a rogue can never be this beautiful."