Blossom Bar Rogue River Novels & Stories

That bush was old and its thorns were long. I grabbed the next one, and yanked him away from Zara’s back before he managed to slash her with his claws. Zara nodded her thanks to me, then swung the next Rogue into one of the support beams of the gazebo. I winced at the resulting crack. Either the Rogue had just broken a bone, or we had to rebuild Zara’s favorite reading spot. Or maybe both. I was able to finish off two of the three Rogues quickly after that, and then with Zara’s help I untangled the Rogue trapped in the rose bush. I’d interrogate him later.

I change into jeans and a sweatshirt then take a short walk to a run-down dive bar with a brunch service. It’s not even 10:00 A.M. when the bartender slides a frosted glass full to the brim with a dark, rich ale in my direction. I press a few dollars onto the counter before walking to a booth in the back corner of the bar and sit down, sighing, before drinking half of the beer in one go, barely tasting it. A TV over the bar is playing the news. I watch in silence as images of the Roguelands bleed into Moonrise, where Maeve appears, waving to spectators as she steps off a private train car surrounded by her guards.

I take that as my cue to continue. “We also have visual confirmation of 200 more rogues entering the Black Lake territory in the last 4 hours.” I say, looking at my watch. “Our whole Concordat is slowly being surrounded.” “What?! No one has ever gotten through the mountain range at the Blue Moon borders, they are impassable, you must be mistaken.” Alpha Bart pompously says crossing his arms . “And why would anyone attack Blazing river? They are our most peaceful pack taking in all those orphaned pups and females.”

This time, I choose. She chose. She has been choosing, every day, since that October morning. The ROTC. New York. The commission. The file. The conversation with Isabel. The confrontation with David. The Priorat. The Azores. Ethan, in every version — the lobby, the Bunkers, the Madrid streets, the kitchen in Georgetown, the desk in the Eixample office with the ring on it between them. And tomorrow: Begur. Twenty-three people. Rosa is walking her in. The restaurant near the castle that her mother approved three months ago.

The Rogue is getting sloppy. The wind shifts. Suddenly the trail is everywhere, overlaying itself until I almost lose it. Then I see the river—Stormcreek, the old boundary between Nightshade and Blackwood. The current is swollen, cold and fast, but the scent is unmistakable. The Rogue crossed here and didn’t care who saw. I strip and swim across, body numbing, then shift the second my feet hit muddy bank. The wolf makes the next mile in half the time, senses lit up, every nerve buzzing with purpose and dread.

Although non shifters do straggle in time to time, mainly it's just a bar where us supernaturals go to, to wind down. Finally making my way into the bar, it's dead silent. The pack members are looking at me, slightly baring their necks in submission. All of a sudden, I catch of one of the most delicious scents I've ever smelled before. It's a mix of cedarwood and lilacs and it smells like home. I look around with just my eyes so the others don't catch on and see the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes upon. Gorgeous long black hair, olive complex, long legs that would wrap around my waist perfectly and a toned body.

"The blade was cheap." "Everything we have is cheap because we are rogues." I pointed to the map. "The Moonshine Pack is close. Their weapons storage is here, on the eastern edge of their territory. Light guard. Easy in and out." "The Moonshine Pack?" Nessa raised her eyebrows. "Lila, that pack is responsible for royal security. They are not some small border pack we can push around." "I know what they are. But we are not fighting them. We are sneaking in, grabbing what we need, and leaving. Simple."

Wherever it touched, the color drained from the world. Stone turned gray, grass wilted, and even the banners lost their red. James stood beside me, his voice rough. “It crossed the river,” he said. “The eastern outposts are gone.” “Gone?” I asked. He hesitated. “No bodies. Just silence. And smoke.” I stared down into the valley. The fog pulsed, glowing faintly as if it breathed. It was moving toward the fortress in waves, like a tide guided by intent. Ace stirred inside me, restless.

I told Brent that I wanted to have our moment here because it would help me to feel like my mom was here celebrating with us. We made several trips here together over the last couple of months to scout out the perfect location for this moment. There are a lot of tourists in the area and so it can be challenging to find privacy, but we lucked out and stumbled upon a mountain stream that flows into a small clearing sprinkled with Monkshood, Fireweed, and Skyrocket Gilia flowers. Rounding a large boulder, the meadow came into view, and I could already smell the flowers as my ears tuned in to listen to the magical sound of the babbling brook. This moment already felt perfect, and my mate wasn’

"The rogues won't talk. They'll play with us until someone kills them or they find a way to escape." "This is one of the best holding cells in the world. They won't escape." Brent narrowed his eyes at me slightly, but he didn’t say anything. What was there to even say? The rogues claimed they had come for someone. The only new addition to my pack was River. He was the one who couldn't move when we were attacked, held to the ground. Was he the one? No. That was ridiculous. River wasn’t... he didn't look like the type of person who a whole pack of rogues would come for. He was like sunshine trying to break through a storm.