Cursed Rogue Tall Tale Novels & Stories

It was always in whis‍pers‍. ⁠They s⁠ay t⁠he Rogue Alpha ripped a‌n Alph‍a's th‍r‌oat out with his bare hands even his own wolv‍es fe⁠ar him While None of his mates never survived the curse. A cold kno‍t settle⁠d in my stomach. I tried convincing myself they were onl⁠y rumo⁠rs People always exaggerated‍ monsters. Didn'⁠t they?

I frown, thinking on how familiar the male's voice was, searching my mind for where I might have heard it before. "Tonight," The Strange man continues, shrouded in the covering of his cape. "We have new commerades, as well as not so new Counsellors who will mold our new recruits into our way of life. We have lost many over the last year." A heavy pause as others glance at each other, or still others grumble around me and I can't help observe the hatred in their eyes. Where the hell had I taken myself to? "This time around, we will take nothing for granted." The stranger bellows, throwing off his hood in the process and I gasp, taking a step back.

Staring at his face she mumbled. "Who really are you scary man?" ______________________________________ Warning: It's a forced love trope book with the scariest male lead ever. This male lead played a character of an antagonist in Rogue's Innocent Mate. He was cause of all problems in that book so you can already imagine how fucked up he is. So remember this warning. And don't blame me afterwards that I didn't warn ya guys. Next will be updated soon. Keep on liking and commenting.

I couldn't help watching his every move, (not because I was scared, mind you) as he rummaged through the piles. Finally, he turned toward me, his head glinting in the light as he started to approach me, his arm tucked behind his back. His footsteps seemed to be amplified a thousand times over so that I almost did not notice he had arrived before he stood in my face, so close that I could feel his breath on my face. Despite the acrid smell of flames, dampness and blood, his smell of smoke and rotten fish was still enough to make me gag. He grinned, the result of which drove me near the edge of passing out. I couldn't help wondering if he ate the flesh of those he tortured here. His teeth were

It might not be necessary to shift, and it will be much easier to fight if I’m not wearing a dress. As soon as I’m dressed, I step outside and immediately hear a snarl. I turn to the left and there is a brown rogue wolf stalking towards me. You can always identify the rogues because they look mangey and deranged, like a dog who’s been abused and beaten. His fur is filthy, with a few patches missing, and he smells like vulture vomit. The combination of death and decay mixed with the burning, acidic scent of vomit is the worst possible combination.

“About the girl. The one who survived in Morrien.” They exchanged glances, and I saw the uncertainty show in their eyes. Then the rogue in front of me smirked, stepping forward as if he were sizing me up. “You don’t belong here, girl,” he said, his voice low. “Leave before you get hurt.” I knew what they wanted. I reached into my pouch, pulling out a small vial of rare herbs—mudane, the one that rogues used to extend their life, to survive longer in the wild. I tossed it on the ground, watching as the rogues’ eyes widened in surprise.

A Rogue. A Rogue is a werewolf without a pack. They often kill any werewolf they encounter; may it be a member of a pack or a similar rogue, like them. They are vicious plunderers. And that same vicious plunderer is right in front of me, deviously smiling. “Others cannot dodge my attack so easily like that. You’re quite good, pup.” He praised me, but I don’t feel good that he did so at all. I’m scared. “W-who are you, Mister?” I tried to sound brave, but aside from stuttering, my voice also cracked.

The rogue inched closer and closer and I thought that it would be the end of me. But then suddenly, a little girl with flaming red hair came out of nowhere rushing towards the rogue and she touched it. Her touch was magical for as soon as the rogue felt her presence, it turned back into human form and was subdued. It even bowed to her before it took off into the woods, leaving me unscathed.

The rogue clawed at Elias’s wrist, but it was like trying to move a mountain. “You whispered into the wrong ears,” Elias said, golden eyes now glowing blindingly. “You stood beside the wrong throne. And when they told you to kill me, you agreed.” He tightened his grip. “You failed.” With a flick of his wrist, he slammed the rogue to the ground. The stone cracked beneath him. The rogue coughed blood, snarling. “You think this ends with me?” “No,” Elias said calmly. “It ends with all of you.” The rogue surged upward again, summoning every ounce of cursed, broken magic in his body. Vines of void wrapped his arm as he screamed and sent a final blast toward Elias’s chest.

"Not one of the ones we killed, I take it?" Hunter shook his head. “No. Must’ve been the one that got away. But this one,"—he gestured at the nearly unconscious rogue—" said enough to know his look. Tall. Brown hair, a scar running from the chin down the neck.” Claw… The rogues were typically disorganized, scattered, and lesser in number. They didn't have the guts to attack established packs. But now? Now they were coordinated, working together. And for what? For who?