Rogue Books の小説・ストーリー

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.

one of them snorted. I bit my tongue, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. The air was cold, damp, and carried the metallic scent of blood and smoke. My heartbeat was steady now, not calm, but focused. I needed to think. Needed to understand what was happening. A rogue Alpha. That’s what he had said right? Rogues didn’t have Alphas. They weren’t supposed to. They were wanderers, broken wolves with no loyalty, no structure, no rules. But if they had one now… that meant they were organized and united. That made them dangerous, more dangerous than I had imagined.

Aria’s POV Weeks later The cold night air bit into my skin as I crouched in the shadows, the dense forest around me alive with the whispers of danger. The rogue pack had been tracking this Alpha for weeks, and tonight was the night we made our move. I tightened my grip on the dagger strapped to my thigh, the weight of the blade a comforting reminder of my resolve. The Alpha we were after, Aldric, ruled his pack through fear and violence. His people were starving, beaten down by years of his tyranny. It was a reflection of the worst kind of leadership, and I couldn’t stand by any longer. Not when I had the power to change things.

"I try to use it as often as I can to build up strength, but it's hard with all the rogue attacks on the pack lately, I can't afford to be weakened." "Are rogues attacking often?" I ask, taking his hand as we begin to walk back to the pack house. Jamie shrugs, "yeah, we believe they are trying to overrun packs, maybe to gain the land themselves, who knows." I look around, realising that we are alone. "Where did Anton go?" "some wolves have been spotted entering our territory, he's gone with some warriors to check it out." Jamie says slowly, as though he doesn't want me to know.

CRIMSON “Do you know the story of the bloody werewolf rogue that was killed by his alpha? Do you know about that rogue that was hated by all of his pack and all the other packs that no one wanted him at all? Are you familiar with the story, child?” an old woman asked me while giving me a serene smile on her lips.

“A rogue...you’re a rogue.” It seems his whispered words got through to everyone for she became the centre of attention. Growls could be heard and yet instead of moving, instead of running for her life, she stood unmoving in her place. Rogues were frowned upon, they weren’t allowed anywhere near packs, especially not this one. She had been too bold, but right now, she didn’t care. Despite the commotion in the room, her eyes searched for Xavier, not being able to spot him through the crowd that had surrounded her.

“How’s the pain?” “I’ll live.” I grunted as I picked up the books she had dropped to distract myself from the pain of her checking over my injuries. “I found those on Stephanie’s bookshelf.” She chuckled. “Thought you could use something to keep you busy. I picked that one because the author has my name.” I looked more closely at the books she had brought, chuckling when I saw that one was titled ‘The Rogue Queen’ by Rory McCauley-Hayman. I waved the second book titled ‘Breaking The Bond’, in the air.

I put what I am doing to the side and gestured for him to take a seat. "Owen, I need to talk to you about something. I do not want you to take offense, but it's about rogues." I nod. Rogues often give packs trouble; somehow, I am an exception. Probably because I attempt to communicate with the wolf packs and live on neutral territory, it probably also helps that they come to my club. "I am not sure what help I can be," I don't associate with many wolves, other than those who work or are members of the club.

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

Symbols carved deep into the stone glimmered faintly, like embers holding their breath. The rogue stepped closer—then stopped. He sniffed. Twice. The grin faltered. “What’s that smell—” Too late. The forest ripped open. Shadows tore like wet paper caught in firelight. And something stepped through. Not a man. Not a wolf. Not a beast. Something that had been all three— and decided none were enough. Steel whispered once. Then sang. --- The first rogue opened his mouth—only for his throat to split clean from ear to collar. Blood sprayed the altar. He fell twitching at my feet, eyes still trying to focus.