Rob Stark Novels & Stories

"Good. Now that we've established that, maybe you can stop pretending to be some tragic hero and actually survive here." She walks away, leaving Stark alone by the stream. He wants to hate her, but he can't. She's the first person in weeks to speak to him honestly, without pity or judgment. The challenges continue. Over the next week, Stark fights twelve more rogues, winning each time but taking more damage. His body heals slowly, his vampire nature hampered by poor nutrition and lack of proper rest. Kara watches most of the fights from a distance, offering no help but occasionally shouting sarcastic commentary. "Left side, princeling! Oh wait, too late, you're bleeding again."

he gave Nyx an approving nod— “you made the perfect choice. Finally becoming a man, huh?” I smirked, shaking his hand. “You talk too much for someone who’s supposed to be resting.” He chuckled, then turned to Nyx. “And you, young lady, are even prettier in person.” Nyx smiled softly. “Thank you, Mr. Rob. It’s nice to finally meet you.” “Please,” he waved a hand, “just Rob. ‘Mr.’ makes me sound old.” I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. That’s Rob—the oldest of my men. Fierce. Ruthless. Loyal to the bone. Sometimes too damn stubborn for a man without legs.

The veins in his arms were showing as he touched my legs, parting them further as if I wasn’t yet open enough to him. I saw him walk to the cabinet, when he turned to me, fiery and dangerous eyes appeared. There was a stick on his hand, a silicon was on its end. I am not familiar with that thing, and I think it does not matter at all. What matters is that Jacob shove his cock in my wetness and fuck me hard. “Whose whore are you?” Jacob asked as he was running the stick on my legs. “You… ughh!” I didn’t complete my sentence because before I could even say it, Jacob already whipped the stick on my legs.

Standing at 6'5", with a body carved from years of brutal discipline, he was a titan among men. His blonde curls were damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead as he rolled his shoulders, his enormous arms flexing with ease. His skin glistened under the dim lights, his six-pack rippling with every movement. But it was his face that truly set him apart a masterpiece of sharp lines and perfect imperfections. His light blue eyes had the power to pierce through a man's soul, making even the most confident opponents hesitate. His lips, full and sinful, often twisted into a smirk that made women weak and men envious. Tonight, he was up against another monster a man rumored to be just as deadly, ju

Rough, tattooed men with reputations for taking what they wanted. She’d heard stories about the Iron Wolves gang that hung out at The Rusty Nail, a dive bar on the outskirts of town. Five of them were legends, Jax, the brooding leader with a scar across his cheek; Rocco, the massive Italian with arms like tree trunks; Blaze, the fiery redhead known for his stamina; Diesel, the mechanic with oil-stained hands and a wicked grin; and Thorn, the quiet one with piercing eyes that could undress you from across the room. They were all hung like gods, or so the rumors went. Perfect.

Strong. My smile grows. "Thank you for saving me from facing Lars." "You're welcome," Robin's chocolate eyes briefly soften before hardening again. "Wait here." "Roger." I stand up from the couch and have to crane my neck to offer Robin a smile. It's a reminder that the guy is well over six feet tall with massive muscles—he is a force to be reckoned with. I watch him walk into the hallway. He is about to open the door when a terrible scene of him getting shot in the head plays in my mind. It makes me stand up from the couch.

“There are things that not even Arianna knows about her father and she lived with him. The darkness that he was associated with, and the rogues that were going to come at the other packs.” “Rogues?” I asked, and he nodded. “They are what they call ‘hired assassins’.” He said, making me frown in confusion. “They have nothing that technically stops them. No morals, and of course, being rogues, nothing that they would lose. They work for money, and are paid per bullet.” I looked at Viktor who frowned as he tapped the table twice.

"You wouldn't want your newly favorite brother to die a slow and painful death now, would you?" A laugh bubbles its way out of me at his playfulness because he always seems to be the quiet, mysterious one, but from what I've learned tonight, Robbie has a wicked sense of humor and a heart the size of the ocean. "Oh, we wouldn't want that to happen now would we?" He nods while trying to hold a fake pout, but he just ends up doubling over as he laughs. I was more than prepared to stay in a room and see Nick tomorrow as I didn't want to disturb him, but I can't deny how happy both Lexi and I feel at the idea of seeing our mates again.

“Yep. One AM, buddy.” I open both eyes, still squinting, but only half against the light. The other half is trying to decide if I hate him enough in this moment to murder him where he stands and whether or not Grace would kick me out over it. “Don’t ‘buddy’ me. If you were trying to die, you’re well on your way. What do—.” My words stop, caught in my throat as Rob abruptly holds up a white, flat-looking stick in front of my face.

Seemed like they were waiting for a surprise to appear. Stark saw one of the rogue near them. He's the one who acted as guards of their little camp. He scattered his vision to the sorroundings and he didn't saw Ramses around them. He was his main target for launching an attack. He slowly sneeked in and with a snap of a finger, amount of crimson bloods pooled below the rogue's neck. Stark slashed it with his sharp claws. It stumbled on the ground and instantly died. He didn't even let out even one single soft noise. Stark attacked was vert precise and a smart move.