Aesthetica Rogue Hero Novels & Stories

"If you don't reject him, I'll have to declare him a rogue and banish him from this pack. We don't need him here." "You can't do that father. He is your subject! You can't maltreat your pack members for no reason! That will be outrageous!" I yelled. I couldn't believe my ears. Being declared a rogue was the worst thing that could happen to a werewolf — aside from being rejected. A rogue was an outlaw, one without a pack. He was sent out of his home to roam about the deadly forest alone. Rogues were helpless wolves without the protection of an alpha and they were open to any attack whatsoever

His dark red eyes meet mine with a glaring amount of contempt and I can't help but snicker at that, none of that contempt was there when he had my ass in his palms as I grinded on him. I take in his rough dirty blond hair, his shaggy dark beard, dark red eyes, crooked nose and thin lips, all those combined with his broad shoulders and large muscles made him extremely attractive, but in a rough way, unlike the way Tristan and Zander managed to be politely attractive. "Nothing much rogue, I just need to speak to you," I reply, glancing around at his fellow rogues watching from behind trees and bushes. He stares at me for a moment before turning around and walking away in the direction of their

Flavia was just grabbing at straws at that point. “I did not take you for one to assume.” I brought Flavia a step closer, nothing coming to mind to defend myself. My thoughts swirled and I found Rogue girl’s face coming to mind again. She was so fragile yet such a force at the same time. She had confidence that I did not even know where it came from. As for being powerful, something told me I did not know a single thing about her and I did not even want to. Her face flashed again and something stilled in me.

If my scent does not give away, the tattoo does. "And who is this with you?" She asks again, her eyes landing on Marissa. Marissa shrinks under the gaze of my mother, prompting me to hold her hand tighter. She is not a Rogue but she is more scared of her life than a Rogue does. As a matter of fact, A rogue is the most fierce in a way. They don't care if they are about to be dead but still do whatever the fuck they want. Alright. Maybe becoming a Rogue if Alonso and I are stripped of our titles may not be a bad thing.

“That so?” I swallowed hard but didn’t look away. “Yes.” The rogue smirked. “Then you’re either very brave… or very stupid.” Probably both. Damien’s patience thinned. “Are you going to let us through or not?” The rogue studied him for a long moment. Then, to my surprise, he stepped aside. “Welcome to the borderlands,” he said, grinning. “Try not to get killed.” ⸻ The rogue territory was unlike anything I had ever seen.

Seyric definitely had his way of handling things like that because he flicked on a lighter out of nowhere and held it up for the rogue to see. “That knife may not hurt you as it is but if I take it...” He pulled the knife out of his lap and the rogue screamed again, sweating profusely. “...and put it in this..” he let the flame of the lighter heat up the knife, maintaining eye contact with the rogue. He approached the rogue again but the bleeding man was already begging for mercy. “It was an Alpha! I don't know his name but he approached our leader not long ago. All I know is that the Alpha wants the Luna and her children dead at all costs.”

But fate wasn't that kind. The rogue trader driving the cart had barely looked at her, except to spit or laugh. “Pretty face. Shame about the attitude,” he muttered once, tapping the bars. “You’ll fetch a high price, little dove.” She turned her face away, her long, tangled hair, once brushed with care in her tiny room now a mess of knots and dirt. Her skin was marked with dried blood, soot, and the ghosts of whip lashes. But still, she glowed in a strange way. Not polished, not radiant, but alive. And that alone made her dangerous here.

His eyes gleam as they catch the light—golden, almost feral, reflecting the moon like a predator watching its prey. His chiseled jaw is shadowed with stubble, his dark hair tousled, wild. A black turtleneck clings to his sculpted body, revealing the strength beneath. He looks like trouble. "Who are you?" I demand fists clenched. "A rogue, like you," he says smoothly. "What are you doing here? This is dangerous territory." "Then why are you here?" I snap, backing up. I’ve heard the stories. Rogues have no rules. No loyalties.

I can only assume that they believed I was taken home since it was so close to their coven. “You don’t have to be polite, dear,” Talia bats her eyelashes at my father, and I have to suppress the growl that is forming in my chest. “You can call them rogues. Just because your daughter is one…” “That is enough, Mother,” Erebus growls from his seat but Talia isn’t giving up so easily. “It is amazing that she only smells like a human. Since most rogues wreak of decaying flesh and trash,” Talia continues.

Its Rowena, I don’t think a princess is ever going to be a sacrifice. Silence followed after I had said that,but I felt his tension ease. I looked at him in a way he wouldn’t know, I wanted to take all his features, his looks and the way he looked at me when I wasn’t starring. Why do they call you the rogue Alpha , I found myself asking. When I asked that question it seemed to get his attention because he looked at me. I don’t go with their rules princess and I don’t worship their stupid moon goddess who abandoned my people when your people turned against us or because I protected my people with my own power.