Rogue Spirits Sunset Bar Novels & Stories

Diego followed the purple mist which led her to a room with no door, the singing had now grown stronger. When Diego walked in the room, the lights that lit the passageway had completely died out. The room was dark except for the purple mist that poured out from the Black Spirit. “Why have you come?” the Spirit demanded in a mocking tone. Diego replied calmly “Your singing…is distracting me from thinking.” The Spirit chuckled, “Thinking?” Diego took a few more steps. She found the Black Spirit on the wet floor sitting with its head facing down. Diego couldn’t see her clearly because of the darkness, but she knew who that was...

* I followed Rogue towards the lit area, acutely aware of Silas trailing behind us like a brooding shadow. The space around the desk felt strangely intimate after the vast, threatening emptiness of the main warehouse floor. Rogue moved behind the desk, not sitting, and gestured to one of the armchairs. "Please." He turned to the sideboard, selecting two heavy crystal tumblers. "I hope you appreciate the water of life. This is a rare Dalmore, fifty years in the cask. Not something I waste on just anyone." He poured two generous measures, the rich amber liquid catching the light.

Ethan Dunn, Night Walker: 12 Points Declan McCoy, Iron Hide: 10 Points Benjamin Reid, Nightshade: 10 Points Tatum Blair, Shadow Paw: 7 points The scores stared back at me as I stood next to the bonfire. It was the end of week one, and I had been trying and failing to escape the festivities to return to Greyson for the past several hours. I just needed to wait until everyone was drunk enough for me to go unnoticed, but either they weren't drinking fast enough or a strong enough liquor.

All Sigmas heads are shaved monthly to take away their beauty. “Come,” he held his hand out to me. As I took his hand, sparks shot through my entire body, and in that moment, I never wanted to let go. He led me outside. We were surrounded by woods. Many people surrounded the house. They were in deep discussion with each other. Along the outskirts of the small property, I could see tents set up, some merchant tents, others with couches and beds thrown in them. Rope lights hung from the trees and pathway lights lit up walking trails from one tent to the next. There was a huge firepit in the middle. It reminded me of a gypsy’s camp.

And yet, here I was, running for my life, paying the price for choosing freedom. I exhaled shakily. “What do we do now?” Damien finally looked at me, his gaze dark and thoughtful. “We need to reach the southern border before sunrise. There’s a rogue-friendly territory beyond it where we can hide for a while.” “Rogues?” I shivered at the thought. Damien smirked slightly. “Not all of us are bloodthirsty killers, you know.” I bit my lip, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean—”

he turns to lead me to my room, but I stop him. “It’s alright. I know exactly where the room is. Just send the waiter to the room in ten to fifteen minutes.” He nods and I continue in the hallway, admiring the beautiful paintings of flowers, mountains, and rivers. After several turns, I am almost to my room when two men step out of the washroom to the right of me. I instantly notice that they are werewolves and I quickly conceal my scent, but it’s already too late. “Stop right there,” one of the men growls. I spin around to face him. “What are you doing here, Rogue?” the other man asks, spitting out the last word. I sigh.

And gods help me, I want to lose to him. But I can’t. Because I’m Sera Ashenvale. The rogue girl who lived. The Luna he’ll regret choosing. The storm that’s coming for everything he built. And when the blood moon rises again... He’ll remember exactly who I am.

He plunged the celestial silver dagger into my arm. I screamed, thrashing against the chains. He wasn’t stabbing me randomly—he was carving something into my flesh. The pain was unbearable. I slipped in and out of consciousness, the room spinning around me. Finally, it ended. I gasped, looking down at my arms and legs. On my left arm, carved in blood and pain, was the word 'Rogue.' On my right arm, 'Luna.' On my left leg, 'Tenebrosi.' And on my right, again, 'Luna.'

None dared to speak. “Next,” a gruff voice called. A hand shoved her forward. Charollet stumbled up the steps of the platform, blinking under the glare of torchlight. A hush fell over the crowd of bidders. “Lot Forty-Seven,” the announcer declared. “Nineteen years. Rogue-raised. Never shifted. Suspected human. Untouched.” A collective murmur passed through the crowd. Some scoffed. Others leaned forward in interest. Charollet kept her eyes down, jaw clenched.

Maurice replied with enthusiasm. Ryan picks up his keys, already heading out "Alright then, I'm leaving the office now, see you in a "jiffy. Our usual spot right?" "Yeah man, sure!" Maurice responded. The rooftop bar offered breathtaking city views and exuded a sophisticated ambiance with soft jazz melodies and flickering candlelights. The sleek glass shelves showcased an impressive whiskey collection with vintage beer posters and antique distillery equipment that adorned the bar. Aromatic smoke from the cigar lounge wafted the air, mingling with hints of oak and vanilla. Laughter and conversation filled the air as friends and acquaintances gathered at the bar. Maurice walked into the bar an