Rogues Of Hell Novels & Stories

“Didn’t smell it. Didn’t hear a damn thing until it was too late. Our senses were dulled. Muffled. Like someone poured evil magic into our bones and thickened the air. Then came the fog. And in the fog were rogues, but somehow they were organized. Swift. Waiting for us like they knew the route. We fought them off, but in the chaos, Corwin and Harla disappeared.” The murmurs rise again, louder this time. “How do you know they were rogues?” “They are malnourished and lack any noble markings,” I say, my voice low. “They were feral, and something felt off about them. Like they belonged nowhere and to no one. They seemed wounded and like there was something rotting beneath their skin. Rogues carr

I’m not sure because I’ve stopped listening and have joined everyone else in this camp by stiffening and listening to the forest. It’s Cassian who makes the call as to what it is, and the tone of his voice is grave. “Rogues.” I don’t know much about my new shifter world yet, but I know enough to understand what that means. Rogues are wolves who have no pack, no kingdom, and no one to answer to. That makes them dangerous. “A lot of fucking nerve you have coming anywhere close to this camp,” Cassian adds, louder, his voice powerful and commanding.

The sound of his shift was thunder in the small space. I pressed myself against the back wall of the cave, and my legs gave out. The stone bit into my back. The heat still pulsed through me, a sick rhythm that made everything blur at the edges, and I watched the fight like it was happening underwater. Bastian's wolf was a monster. Black fur, one ear torn, shoulders thick as boulders. He caught the first rogue by the throat and threw it against the cave wall hard enough that I heard bones crack. But the second rogue was already on his flank, and the third circled toward the fire, toward me.

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.

The air was warm and natural, and it seemed as though many had heard, yet none would speak of it as they appeared to have considered it natural. Two days passed since tears had filled eyes and fear had gripped many at their weakest points. And unto the next day, what had happened at night had become a thing of the past as the smiles on faces sprang up out of sorrows of hearts. It seemed as though they had all adapted to the regular torture and torments of a rogued beast as such, evident in the rapid refurbishing of the damaged environments. The phantom's nature was specially chaos, that was knowledge known to all men and child. And its footprints were the massive destruction which could neve

As Tom would take me from behind, the warm water running down my back as one hand firmly gripped my hip and the other my shoulder. Don't think of him, whatever you do, don't think of him. Tom Bradley was the Alpha of the Rogues, a pack made up of wolves that had been banished from their packs for various reasons. Some valid, but mostly because they were traitors, vicious and untrustworthy. Which made the pack volatile and unruly, and that chaos suited their leader, whose wolf was becoming more and more unhinged. Not the type of wolf the daughter of the alpha of the prestigious Red Crescent Pack should be in company with. But I just couldn’t stay away, I was drawn to his badness like a moth t

This time, it was he who would have to survive me. We lulled into a soft silence, warm and companionable. But I had too many questions to remain that way for long. “Who are they?” I whispered. “The Midnight Rogues?” A growl built in his chest. “Rogue idiots. They’re a band of miscreants, all wolves who’ve been kicked out of their packs for one reason or another. I thought I’d done enough last time I crossed paths with them, but clearly not.” He sighed and tucked me even tighter against him.

I step up to him and we are chest to chest as he peers down into my eyes. “Please don’t act like you know a single thing about me and what I do and don’t know. Rogues are the scourge of the werewolf world. They are the filth on the bottom of our paws that we so easily wash away in the river beds.” His words are dripping with malice.

I thought they had found me, but I was wrong. Looking at the disheveled and animalistic eyes that surrounded me, I didn’t know whether to be grateful it wasn’t the Blood Moon Pack or to curse the moon goddess for crossing my paths with Rogues. Rogues were known to be unhinged. They lost all traces of being human and were more beasts than human. That's why they were so dangerous. “Look what we have here?” The man who I think is the leader sneers as he takes in my state. “I think we’ve got ourselves a plaything."

“I’m glad you like it so far. With every passing day, I’m sure you’ll like it even more. But tomorrow, after your tour with Christianna, I will show you where to take shelter if rogues attack.” “Ok…” I mumbled. “Will you tell me now what rogues are?” “Rogues… Well yeah. Rogues are werewolves who were banished from their Alpha or refused their own pack. At first, they live like plain humans, but when they give in to their wolves and shift, they become feral and lose themselves. They never return to their human forms again. Lost and disorientated, they gather up in little packs of two or three because wolves can’t live alone. Some rogues take simple wolves into their pack just to gain strength