Ms Roger Rabbit Novels & Stories

I've never been so close and personal with an enemy capable of ending me with a twat from his hand before. To my surprise, Roger's lips eventually curl, and he laughs. He gently places me over his chest and closes his eyes. "So heal me then. Hurry, little wolf. I'm dying." Wait, what? Seriously? My fear blows away. Roger isn't as teasing as Caleb when he speaks. He is super bossy, and it aggravates me. The bastard talks to me like I'm his freaking servant—Roger is the male version of Jenna. "I'm not your slave..." I mutter while crouching on top of him, blushing when I notice the hole is gone—the moronic alpha is almost entirely healed. I'm currently sitting over his abs.

Claws extended, I swiped at Roger, but he sidestepped and landed a solid blow to my chest. The impact sent me stumbling backward. Seizing the moment, Roger pinned me to the ground. His strength is on another whole different level entirely. "Your reign is over, Little Rascal," Roger sneered, his hot breath on my face. "The Whitewater pack will be free, and you will be the one enslaved in death." With a surge of adrenaline, I tried to break free, but Roger's grip was unyielding—his strength was overwhelming compared to mine. "You don't think you'll be able to defeat me, do you?" he asked, part of his face shifting into wolf form, just like mine.

Vladimir hummed while rolling the sleeves of his white shirt while analysing the man in front of him. Roger, the Mexican Cartel's man, spit at Vladimir’s shoe. “You will die, Russian Dog. My Boss Diego will give you the death of a stray dog!” In a sudden swift moment, Vladimir moved and grabbed Roger’s chin. His eyes swirled with murderous madness as He got into that man’s face. “You have spirit, I give you that but it won't save you from this Sinner’s cruelty, Roger,” He gritted out, his breath hot against Roger’s face.

The sweet scent of strawberry body wash filled his nose, making Roger's ears turn red. Ernesta looked up, a familiar feeling washing over her. The brown-nut hair, the clear amber eyes, Roger's appearance reminded her of a childhood friend. If he had grown up, he might have looked just like the guy in front of her. Roger was handsome, wearing a black hoodie and wide-legged khaki pants, fitting perfectly on his 6'1" frame, looking both youthful and stylish. “Are you okay?” Roger asked, his tone quite relaxed, if you ignored his flushed ears.

Mom said plainly as she focused on the noise coming from the room. Mom was right. Rebecca stopped crying and protesting after that day. The sound of her laughter even frequently trickled out of the room, as if she found immense joy in what she was doing. The men who sought out Rebecca didn't stop coming, either. Every one of them entered the room full of expectations and left satisfied. They claimed Rebecca was the best rabbit-woman they'd ever slept with. Every time I took water for Rebecca, my senses were assaulted by that strange, spicy scent with a pungent note in her bedroom.

The rabbit didn’t move as his voice echoed around the snow. “No, no, it should be scared,” Mikael said, “It’s a rabbit…” “It has horns…” Peggy whispered. “It’s an illness they can get, the horns and tentacles will go… But that illness doesn’t change its behaviour,” Mikael said. “So?” Peggy said. “Rabbits don’t know the difference between wolves and werewolves. It’s looking at us, predators, and not showing fear,” Mikael said. “So… Something is really wrong…” Peggy said.

We were now at the door or the open cave that had lights at each corner of the wall, which casted a bright glow into the space and made it homely. And as one would expect from Roger, there was a table of food on one end of the wall with comfortable chairs around the table. In the middle of the cave was a round table where Roger sat with a group of men. His eccentric choice of hair color made him stick out from any group of people. When we walked in, faces turned to face us. “You made it!” Came Rogers booming voice, as he got up from his seat. “A neat place you have here.” I said looking around.

Kaleb is standing on the top of the ring. He is lifting his arms in the air once again and jumps off, landing with his leg squarely across Roger's neck. Roger grabs at his neck in pain and is struggling to breathe. Kaleb lifts Roger off the floor and opens his jaws revealing his large canines and prepares to dig his teeth into Roger's throat, Rogers uses all his strength to push him back and starts swiping his claws at Kaleb, this time his claws scratches his chest causing deep gashes and sending blood spilling onto the white floor. Kaleb starts to swipe back at Roger, drawing more blood. His hits are more powerful than Roger's and he feels every painful strike, sending him to his knees. Rog

She’d taken them down so expertly that I wondered how she got into the situation in the first place, how they’d managed to ambush her. I thought about stories I’d heard about rogues. There were known to wreak havoc among packs. If she was a typical rogue then I could see how that would be. No wonder pack leaders usually hated them. So much so that if an alpha or luna crossed paths with one, their first instinct would be to kill. I thought about what this meant for my mate, and how my mother would take it. Would my mother try to kill my mate? Of course, I couldn’t let anything happen to her.

A slow, dark smile spread across his face. “I can’t wait either,” he murmured, voice dripping with the promise of blood. The letter fell from his hand, crumpled and forgotten on the stone floor. A soft meow echoed from the corner. Roger looked down, his gaze finding the cat that sat coiled like a shadow at his feet. Moon. The black-furred stray he’d picked up after the Red Claws fell, a battle that had painted the ground crimson and left bodies rotting beneath the sun. Wolves whispered about the Almighty’s strange fondness for a weak, mewling animal, but none dared speak it to his face.