Good Rouge Names Novels & Stories

The man is always snapping at someone. Harold smirks at him in reply before turning to Lydia, “What pack did you come from?” “What part of not your concern do you not understand?” Gray tells him. “Besides you should not be asking that kind of question,” Ray speaks up. “What, is it touchy topic for rogues or something?” Harold asks. “Are you not a rogue?” Lydia asks. Harold laughs, “Me, no I’m just really good friends with this asshole. I guess you can call me a rogue supporter or a rogue by association.”

Even Silas seemed to deflate, the fight draining out of him under his leader’s withering disapproval. Rogue turned back to me. The glacial eyes held mine. "My apologies, Mr. Reynolds," he said, the words unexpected, delivered with a stark sincerity that threw me more than any threat. "For the… unwelcome reception. And for the threats made against you and your companion. They were unauthorized and unacceptable." He gave a slight, formal nod. "My name is Rogue. I lead the Eagle Brothers. You carved the Crown of Azura. That demands a certain… respect. And a conversation."

The Rogue remained quiet after that, and we stood side by side. I decided to break the silence when it became too much. "What does the Pack Alpha need you for?" Surprisingly, my question made the Rogue smile. The gesture looked odd on his sharp face but lightened his severe features. There was a spark in his grey eyes as he looked down on me. "What's your name?" I furrowed my brows as I stared back at him. "W-what...? I asked you first." "You can call me Lance," he answered, ignoring my protest. "If you tell me your name, maybe I'll tell you why I'm here."

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.

Parker asked me, pointing at them. “They look scary.” Said, James. My grandfather just laughed. “C’mon, they don’t bite. At least. Not to their masters.” “What are their names?” I asked, now intrigued by their identities. “Your uncle Rouge is one of them. Did he not tell you?” I looked at each of them. So that’s why Uncle Rouge just disappeared today. I could only see their eyes and the rest was covered. The only thing that makes them differ from one another is their build and their weapons.

"Rouge has a name---Ilaria? Shouldn't you be nameless? Or you couldn't stand the ugly names throwed at you?" ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Your thoughts until now? Do comment down below.

I called out, stumbling over a root. He didn't answer. "Or where we're going?" Still nothing. Frustration bubbled up in my chest, mixing with the fear. "Look, I get that you're mad about whatever this is, but I didn't ask for—" He stopped so suddenly I almost crashed into his back. When he turned, his eyes were that molten gold again. My breath caught. "You want to know my name?" His voice was dangerously quiet. "Fine. I'm Kael. Alpha of the Shadowveil Pack. What's left of it, anyway."

In the hidden base there were many Rouge who had gathered to become an army and attack Pack Redmoon. They were all doing so to gain their own territory and power. The weapons were numerous, and heavily modified, weapons made by the genius Stephen and all the money Mathis and Jason's company had gone into financing the Rouge's weapons. Maybe they had claws and fangs, but if the enemy had many other weapons then they must also have more advanced, and more powerful ones.

Rich black dudes are usually badass I chuckled Me: not all Rogue: so why were they at your tail? Me: I really don't know I shoved my hands into my pockets and looked down Rogue : in the next ten minutes, I think they'd be ketchup and tomatoes, so we'll go ask them some questions Me: what's ketchup and tomatoes got to do with 'em? He smiled Rogue : have I ever told you I really like your accent? Me: you haven't. But you just let me in on it

I reply without losing the smile on my face. "Why don't you try forcing me then? Let's see what you got... Rogue King?" 'Jackpot!' His eyes gleam like blood-red rubies in reaction to my words, confirming to me that my suspicions are right. He's indeed the infamous Rogue King. The despicable motherfucker that is highly despised by every shifter in North America. No one knows his name. No one knows the pack he was originally from and no one has ever seen his face before, he's only known as the Rogue King and by his reputation.