Tobias Rogers Novels & Stories

"I'm trying to figure that out." Tobias laughed. "Oh, my dear, you don't want that kind of question addressed." Alex moved in front of them, his voice tense. "Enough games. Are you able to assist us? Tobias did not recoil. Rather, he reached into his jacket pocket and took out a cigarette, rolling it between his fingers before tucking it away. "It depends." Alex frowned. "On what?" Tobias looked expectantly and sharply back at Emery. "The extent of her willingness to go."

“Go. Let me know how it goes.” Adrian tips his head and moves aside to let Tobias past and then leaves. Tobias is a huge man, well over seven feet tall and packing muscle in all the right places. Like most shifters, he looks to be in his twenties, but the man is thousands of years old. I met Tobias when I was twelve. Tobias was visiting my grandfather, Royal business. He was kind to me, and he told me that even if things seem scary, never show anyone that fear. Once you show fear, enemies move in and take you down with ease.

No, that didn’t make sense. “He… he was alive,” I said. “He had to be-” “He wasn’t,” Solomon cut in. “Bullet between the eyes. Clean. Professional.” T. It had to be. He’s cleaning up his trail which only meant we were getting closer… or getting played from the very beginning. My stomach twisted violently. Marcus swore under his breath. “Jesus…” Solomon’s gaze stayed locked on me. “Tobias was afflicted with that organization,” he continued. “But that was years ago. And even if he knew anything, well, he’s of no use now.”

"Why the hell did you play me like that, Tobias?! We had an agreement! I did exactly what you asked me to do—I went to the authorities, I signed the affidavits, and I officially cleared Sydney's name of the homicide charges! I delivered my end of the bargain perfectly! All of this public humiliation is uncalled for! We were supposed to be partners!" Tobias looks down at me for a long moment. And then, right in front of the flashing cameras of the media, he bursts into a loud, mocking laugh, throwing his head back as if I’ve just told the most hilarious joke in human history. He stops laughing, his face instantly dropping into an icy, deadpan expression of contempt as he looks dead into my ey

“I’m home.” And I flung myself into his arms. But just as I did— A scream rang out from the woods. Tobias burst into the clearing, blood running down his chest. “They’re here,” he panted. “Who?” I demanded. He looked up, horror on his face. “Viktor and Mira. And they brought a damn army.”

Roger sat frozen, as if turned to stone. “Roger, who was that? Was it someone who can help us?” Gloria hurried over, her face full of desperate hope. Roger finally snapped back to himself. His bloodshot eyes were filled with shock and the fury of someone who felt stabbed in the back. “What is it? Roger, what’s wrong?” Gloria stared at him in alarm. The look on his face was so savage it was almost frightening. “Felix Gibson!” Roger spat the name out with a roar. “Mr. Gibson? Is he going to help us?” Gloria asked quickly.

With that overgrown beard, over-tanned skin, and that ridiculous worn-out leather jacket. Tobias makes a diamond shape with his fingers and peers at me through it with one eye. “Oh, I see it now. You are Bobo the clown? Or is it Molly the clown, since you are a girl?” Tobias snickers. “And what are you? A scarecrow?” I say as I push my way past him. I can hear him laughing from behind me. I wish I could shift so that I can drag his bum ass along the riverside. “Why are you angry, sweetheart? I like clowns, actually. It’s a compliment. By the way, your mascara is running, your teeth have lipstick stains, and your wig is crooked…unless it’s all in the name of the fabulous costume,” he bawks at

Anton Rogers is the past. But underneath the sparkling sheen, her brain was a fortress under silent siege. The one fired at Rogers Tower hadn't been a sledgehammer of an attack but a scalpel. It had spooked her. It didn't have the blunt fingerprints of a rival corporation or any greedy hacker. It was elegant, surgical, and bore the chilling signature of someone who knew the system architecture all too well. Someone like Sabatine Stalker.

The sound of his ribs shattering echoes within the hollow cavity. He whimpers at the excruciating torment and twists his body, trying to get out of the males hold. The twists just make the pain even worse. He gives up, too weak to move. The damage has been done and I know that the rogues notice my lack of fight. "Alright, that should do it," one of them says. I feel the male removing his grip, before dropping my wolf to the ground. My wolf whines in pain as the ground digs into his broken ribs. They snigger at my discomfort before leaving.