Stray Dogs Meaning Novels & Stories

Out there isn’t safe, not when I could pop my pup any day. The Alpha sighs, shaking his head while watching me struggle. “You didn’t hear the rest; we don’t usually take in strays, but you’re in no condition to be left alone. It’s dangerous, and you need a strong figure to protect you. A pregnant woman like you, beautiful as you are, needs a man.” I try to ignore the objective part of his sentence despite how uncomfortable it makes me feel. He’s just being nice; it doesn’t have to mean anything.

It wasn’t like anything we’d heard before. I turned the handle slowly, pushing the door open just a crack. My heart pounded in my chest. As I peered out, I saw something small and moving. I stepped back quickly, my finger tensing on the trigger, but then I froze. A stray dog. It was a small, scruffy-looking dog with matted fur, sitting by the door and wagging its tail. Its big eyes stared up at us, a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Nooo… throw that thing away,” Bishop muttered, clearly annoyed.

He sat on the toilet, looking like he wanted to say something, but didn't. After a moment of staring at Father, he sighed, "Do you really think this is a good idea, are we taking strays now?", Simon mumbled, " they told you to teach her, not to adopt her...she should live with nuns, not a priest," I tilted my head, " What are strays, father?". He gave me a smile, " nothing, princess.", he replied, before glaring at Simon, who pressed his lips together in a thin line. Was it a bad word, Frey? I asked my wolf but she didn't reply, seems to get angry with me after I shoved her away multiple times today. She is a proudy wolf.

"Go on, then. I've been trying to work out what he sees in you since the night he brought you in. I've got nothing." I kept still. "I didn't ask what you see." "No. But I'll tell you." She wasn't smiling now. "A rogue. No pack, no blood, no rank. He could've had any of us here. He could've had a real mate, a fated one. And he put his mark on a stray off somebody else's border." Her eyes went over me again. "So no. I can't see it. None of us can." The room had gone quiet. Every wolf in it was watching, waiting for the stray to drop her eyes and go back up the stairs where she belonged.

Every new morning came with the same cold air biting into my skin and the same dull ache in my chest that reminded me I was truly alone now. I tried to approach packs. I really did. I would stand at the edge of their territories, my hands shaking, my heart beating so loudly I was sure they could hear it and wait for someone to notice me. When they did, their eyes would narrow the moment they saw my hair and my thin frame and the way I stood like someone expecting to be hit at any moment. Some of them did not even bother asking my name. They would say things like: “We do not take strays,”

They went pale, their hands trembling as they tried to look busy. “Do you prefer to roam as a stray dog in the streets or continue working at the Grey company?” I asked. My voice wasn't loud, but it carried to every corner of the office. It was a death sentence wrapped in a question. Being a stray meant being cast out of the pack, losing the protection of the Alpha, and living a life of misery. I could see panic in their eyes as they returned back to their seats immediately. They looked like they wanted to disappear into the floorboards.

It was filled with a thick liquid that gave off a foul, sickening stench. Beast blood. And the filthiest kind—from a rabid wolf. My pupils contracted in horror. For a pureblood noble, being forced to drink beast blood was the ultimate humiliation. Worse, the foul blood would corrupt our bloodline, causing a permanent loss of power. "No..." I struggled desperately. But the guards' hands were like iron clamps. "This is what happens when you seduce another woman's man!" Scarlett ordered. "Open your mouth!" I clenched my teeth, refusing.

I almost withdrew them but he held them right where they were. “Can I know why you concerned?”, he asked, voice low. “Why do you care about strays who aren’t even ours?” I opened my mouth, searching for words that wouldn’t unravel everything. “Because… no one should be left alone out there. Not when winter’s closing in. Not when intruders are already sniffing around. They don’t have walls or warriors. They’re just trying to survive.” He watched me for a long moment, thumb brushing absently over my pulse point.

But I promised that I would take her to see her family. Javier drops his defensive stance, responding, “I’m sorry man, it’s just bizarre that you didn’t know..” He looks apologetic. Then explains. “And a Rogue is a wild stray wolf, basically. They don’t have any leader or pack, and most don’t want one. They cause chaos wherever they go and are vicious killers. Ripping people who get in their way to shreds literally! They stank too.” And lil Shawn exclaims, “Yeah, they smell like garbage truck juice!”

“Most of the crimes pinned on rogues…murder, robbery, attacks…do you want to know the truth?” I nodded breathlessly, because I suddenly needed to know. “It’s not us,” he said simply. “Most of those horrors are the work of strays… the truly wild ones. The ones without leaders. The ones who lost their minds to rage and hunger. They roam freely and commit atrocities, and the packs blame all of us along with them.” The words hit me like a physical blow. All the fear… All the distrust… All the warnings, the patrol briefings, the cautionary stories…