Rogues Of Hell Novels & Stories

"Take her." They moved forward, but Zane stepped in front of me. "Try it." "You can't fight us all, Darius." "Want to bet?" A howl echoed through the forest. Then another. And another. Rogues emerged from the shadows. Dozens of them, surrounding the pack wolves. "You brought an army?" Alpha Thorne snarled. "I brought family." Zane smiled, all teeth. "The rogues you've been hunting? They're mine. Every last one."

Before they became irreparable breeches to the humans. Rogues were returning to where they once lived. The difference was many wished to return to pack life. This meant NARC enforcers either needed to negotiate their return to their old packs, find new packs willing to take them in, or find lands where a new pack could form. Many of the smaller packs experienced damage by members leaving and not returning. Some failed and fell apart. Others limped along happy to accept fresh pack members. A few packs stuck to the old ways and wouldn’t accept rogues into their packs.

“You’re right…the rogues are all males and the Lunar Maidens are all females…because we are the same as you. We too had dared to make the mistake of loving the men that weren’t our mates and we all suffered the consequences.” “That’s why Malachi is sympathetic towards the rogues.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Even though I knew Malachi would’ve tried his best to save Clay, now I was certain that he would do anything for Clay. It was the assurance that I needed. “But this only applies to the rogue near the Lindersay Castle.” Emma corrected me. “There are other rogues too, outside, in the world. Most wolves in the outside world become rogues because they disobeyed the Goddess or because their

“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

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.