Rookie 9 Novels & Stories

A shiver travelled through my down my back. "That's about the same time the attacks started getting worse," he told me. "Why do you think you're a rogue? Do you even know what they are?" I felt the tears burn the back of my eyes as I knotted my fingers together in my lap. "My old pack told me that the only title I'd ever be worthy of is a rogue." "You're nothing like the rogue werewolves." Hunt sounded so reassuring and when I looked at him, his eyes were warm and kind.

#ROAD_TO_ABUJA 💦🔞 #Chapter_9 🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃 🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃 🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃 🎃🎃🎃🎃

He positioned himself behind her, his hand moving to the small, tight, unblemished entrance of her virgin asshole. "Ninety-nine positions," he whispered, his voice a dark, lethal threat against her ear. "But this is the only one that matters. I’m going to put you in ninety-nine positions, Jessie. I’m going to break you in so thoroughly that every time you sit in a chair, you’ll feel my cock ghosting inside you." He teased the entrance, pressing the blunt, thick head of his cock against the puckered, tight ring of muscle. He knew it was her first time, and he didn't care about the pain. He wanted the friction. He wanted the total, invasive claim.

A rapid knock on the door jerked me awake from my dream. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was exactly 9:00 pm. There were still 30 minutes before the emergency patient was due to arrive. In my last life, it was around this time when my apprentice, Scarlett York, had asked me to cover her shift while she ran to the restroom. She ended up staying there for over half an hour, leaving me to handle the patient myself. The patient had already gone into cardiac arrest by the time he arrived. I worked for over 30 minutes doing CPR, pumping until my arms gave out, but I managed to pull him back from the brink.

Damien slowly stood up and walked to Alex on the alter, he smiled at him and stretched his hand for a handshake. “Hello, my name is Damien Robbin, the man from Salado.” He said with a smile and Alex could hear his own heartbeat.

Just as things were beginning to shift between them, an obnoxiously loud ringtone cut through the air. The name of the song? “The One and Only.” It was Claire’s custom ringtone. The moment Adrian heard it, he picked up the call without hesitation. “Adrian, I’m on the rooftop. I saw you with another woman. I’m going crazy with jealousy.” “Don’t do anything stupid. I’m coming now.” Adrian hung up and immediately pulled away from Zoey. He threw on a jacket in a rush. “Zoey, Claire’s on the roof. I’m worried she might do something. I have to go.”

Romeo's explanation already reddened his eyes. "I've done all the Beta tasks so far. I am making the pack safe despite yesterday's obstacles. I've tried to make the people not in trouble, I've also helped all your work well, and lastly ..." Romeo pointed at the black ink list. "I've cleaned the rogue from every corner of the pack, without exception." There he pointed to Rena's name listed. Early fall, 2009. A small teenager entered the Southwest region. Name: Rena Schaci. Status: Rogue.

My voice was hoarse as I asked her, "Lucy, are you sure you want to divorce me over a drinking-game challenge? This is our ninth divorce. I won't remarry you again. I'll ask you one last time. Do you really want this?" I remembered how we had gotten together. She pursued me first, staging nine elaborated declarations of love that people still talked about on campus. And yet, on the very night we registered our marriage, she'd asked for a divorce. At the time, I had asked why. She had smirked and said, "I humiliated myself declaring my love for you nine times. Even if I divorce you nine times, you can take it. You owe me this!" That was why I endured all those humiliations, telling myself it

I mutter, hatred still flowing through my veins instead of blood. I wrap the garrotte wire tighter across my hands, getting into stance as my eyes follow a subtle movement from the bushes. The signal is a howl from Ryker. Ragnar has us all briefed. My hands are covered in a pair of knuckle dusters. I had my leather jacket over my gear, which was actually a crop top and slick black pants that allowed me to move around, a utility belt with a series of knives strapped to it, and military boots. A howl sounds some distance in the front, just at the same time a group of rogues leap out of the bushes.

I ask, frustrated and upset with his lack of focus on the task at hand. “Could you read them to me?” he requests. I sigh, but do as he asked. “September 10th, 8:05am. Five rogues attacked the warriors on guard duty along the southernmost perimeter. All rogues were killed. Two warriors sustained shallow scratches. One on the arm. The other on the leg. The battle lasted for–” I cut off with a squeak as I feel something warm and wet touch the back of my neck. He licked me. Tyler licked me!