Roger Clark Audiobooks Novels & Stories

I choked, my voice barely audible. Roger’s grip tightened, his eyes blazing with triumph. "Die, Mr. President," he snarled mockingly, his hot breath on my face. Rachel screamed in horror, rushing towards us. With a final surge of adrenaline, I tried to break free, but Roger's hold was unyielding. My body began to slump, my weight supported only by his merciless grip. As life drained from me, I saw Roger's face—his features contorted in a mix of anger and satisfaction.

I feel a wave of panic wash over me as I realised I'm completely at his mercy. Suddenly, I hear a faint noise coming from outside the room. It sounds like a silent and cautious sound of footsteps. Roger's head snaps up, his ears perked up like a wolf on high alert. "What was that?" He asked me as if I had been the one who had been satisfying my useless fetish by sleeping with virgin wolves and powerless omegas. I try to play dumb, but Roger's grip on my wrists tightens. "Don't lie to me," he snarls. "I know someone's out there."

I looked away first, my hands trembling so badly I had to sit on them. By third period, the whispers had intensified. Everyone was talking about Roger—that was his name, apparently. Roger. It didn't sound familiar, but it felt familiar, if that made any sense. Like a word in a language I used to speak but had forgotten. "I heard he's from Boston," someone said behind me in Chemistry. "No way, he's definitely from somewhere in Europe. Did you hear his accent?" "He doesn't have an accent, idiot." "My cousin said his family is loaded. Like, private jet loaded."

I thought this was a pack. My eyes quickly scan the area as I climb out of the truck to make sure I’m not being watched by anyone. The scent is slowly fading, so I realize whoever it was must have already left, or been imprisoned something in the back of my mind hints. All rogues smell the same, but the scent is stronger, the longer you’ve been a rogue. Silas told me that my scent wasn’t that strong yet. I’ve never actually talked to a rogue before, so I have no idea how to tell the length of time compared to the strength of the smell. Most rogues that I fought as a warrior wreaked, which also meant they had been rogues so long they were losing their minds.

One word carved into the middle to remind anyone who was lucky enough to have a seat at the table why they were there “ROGUES” Fishtailing the tyres, I turned off the road into the car park. Rows of bikes lined up the chrome shining in the sunlight. Kicking down the stand and unzipping my leather jacket, Taking a deep breath I headed into the clubhouse knowing full well that the bomb I was about to drop was not going to be well received.

" Roger gets impatient and irritated this time, this ignorant fool tried to play againts him and even threatened his life a while ago. "Can you just wait for a while? Your phone will rang in a seconds." After he said the seconds, Rogers phone suddenly rang. He looked at it, it was unknown and it was not registered to his phone. "What are you waiting for? Answer it already." Roger looked at him as he didn't hesitate to answer the call. As soon as he answered, a loud roared was heard in the speaker of his phone. When he heard the old mans roar, cold shivers ran down in his spine.

Standing, I give a stretch and then begin to move, being sure to stay in the shadows until I’m close enough to hear what is going on inside the room he disappeared into. “Did you bring it?” A deep, gruff voice asks. “O-of course,” he stammers. Extending my senses further, I listen as the sounds of something being placed on a table can be heard. Once it is in place, multiple clicks follow. “These are the routes.” “Good, good,” the gruff voice chuckles. “It seems that Roger pulled through as promised.” “Of course, he is a man of his word and can be trusted.” I had to let out a huff of amusement over hearing that. Trusted. That man wasn’t loyal to any damn body.

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

Sinclair “We have to get to them,” Roger snarls, moving towards a window – intending to bash it to pieces, I know – but I grab his arm as he goes, pulling him back. “The priests are not that stupid, Roger,” I say through clenched teeth. “If they can make the door disappear, they can make the windows solid –“

He hastily wiped his hands on his dark uniform trousers and stepped forward, offering a hand before stopping himself. "You must be Cleo! Lovely to finally meet you, love. I'm Roger. Everyone around here just calls me Rog," he beamed. "I'd shake your hand, but you look a bit loaded up there! Here, let me take that heavy pot for you." He reached out and effortlessly took the cast-iron dish from my aching arms. "CAP! Your girl’s here!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, the sheer volume making me jump. He turned back to me with a gentle wink. "Follow me, love. I'll take you through to the main kitchen."