Fierce Twisted Rogue Novels & Stories

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

The female who smelled like warmth and want and something he couldn't name was inside that structure, and every instinct he possessed screamed at him to go to her. To claim her. The thought rose savage and sudden, and he shook his head, confused by its intensity. Claim? He'd never claimed anything. He was a rogue, a wanderer, a wolf without pack or place or purpose. Claiming was for alphas, for wolves with territory and status and the right to take. But the instinct didn't care about logic. It just wanted. He forced himself to stay still. To watch. To wait. Time passed. He wasn't sure how much — time moved differently when you were hunting, and this felt like hunting, even though he wasn't s

Nathan stated while he buttoned up his pants. I had lost my shift and crashed to the dirt, hissing at the bastard holding the end of my restraints. “She's a feral bitch and a killer. She will face my father and receive her punishment from the council,” Devan growled unemotionally. “The vampire is my mate,” Morgana hissed, and my wolf growled sternly, “That wolf is mine.” The same wolfman twisted my arms behind me, and I grunted, “Oh hell no.”

"Do not panic, Supreme Alpha. The kid has some lethal skills, but it is not enough to survive us. Erica Tate, your claws are up!" Another elite Shadow Fang Warrior steps forward—an elderly rogue female with a heavily hunched back and a deeply wrinkled face. Her voice is incredibly raspy but sharp as she glares at me. "Boy, surrender your body right now. Use your own claws to break both your arms and legs, then kneel straight before our boots if your soul wants a quick death. Once my Mantis Fist strikes your flesh, your internal organs will be nothing but soft pulp!" My frame remains completely unfazed, my boots walking steadily past her toward Gerard. My voice declares coldly, "My wolf has o

I beg her to be reasonable. “Stop talking Ellie, all of this, this is all your fault.” She shakes her head at me. I spin back around when I hear another growl from the fight. Colin has Shane pinned to the ground. Shane is thrashing to get out of his hold, but Colin now a true Alpha, out powers him. Colin bares his teeth and bites down into Shane’s neck. A loud whimper is heard before his body falls completely still. Shane’s rogue’s take off into the woods. Colin shifts once again and heads towards me running to make sure I am ok.

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.

She reeks of black magic—a Shadow Witch, probably the one who masked the rogues' smell. -"Pin her down." She orders, and four rogues launch at me. I fight them off as each one of them takes one of my paws. I move away from Morgan and manage to bite the jaw of the Rogue to my right; with one single movement, I rip his jaw off his face. A blood pool forms on the floor underneath the butchered animal. More rogues join the unfair fight. Some bite my paws, and others jump on top of me, biting my back. Soon I am crushed down on all the blood and mud by their body weight.

Faster. The Rogue lunged. I intercepted. Its claws raked across my side instead of Irene's back. Pain exploded through my body. Hot and sharp and immediate. Like fire being dragged across my ribs. I twisted. Snapped at the Rogue's throat. Missed. Got a mouthful of shoulder instead. We tumbled across the ground. Snarling and biting and tearing at each other. The Rogue was strong. Desperate. Fighting with the mindless ferocity of a creature with nothing to lose.

Fiona shifted beside me, her wolf sleek and powerful as she barreled into the second rogue, her teeth sinking into its neck with a vicious snarl. The clearing erupted into chaos. Teeth, claws, and fur blurred together as we fought against the rogues, their bloodthirsty growls filling the air. But there was something off about them—something that made them more feral than usual. Their attacks were reckless, desperate, like they were being driven by something beyond their control.

Three to go. Fenris is backing toward me, his rifle empty, switching to his pistol. One rogue circles him, blood matting its fur from multiple gunshot wounds but still moving. These aren’t normal rogues. They’re alpha-level, their bodies absorbing damage that should have dropped them. I charge the one stalking Fenris. It sees me coming and pivots, meeting my attack. We crash together, both of us fighting for dominance. This one is strong—maybe as strong as Lars had been. Its claws rake my side, tearing through fur and flesh. Pain explodes, but I ignore it.