How Did Ragnar Lothbrok Die In Vikings?

"Little bunny, little bunny. Wolf is HUNGRY!" The voice taunted me, followed by an evil cackle. * "Run, rabbit. RUN!" A monstrous bellow boomed through the night sky and crashed into my soul like a sledgehammer. I could feel a chill sweeping across my body and my heart pounding in my chest. The echoes of howls and laughter followed me from behind as I ran for my life. ** Elisabeth's life had been harder than most since she was a child--a distant and often cruel mother and her never-ending cycle of addiction that had taken over her life. But on this fateful night, something far more sinister was lurking in the darkness, ready to take her away from it all. Massive figures appeared out of nowhere, growling and taunting her. She tried to scream, but nothing would come out; before she knew it, she was waking up in a world where Viking werewolves ruled with mysterious faeries at their side. Every five years, they traveled to the human realm, collecting ten girls for their mate run--and tonight, Elisabeth was one of them. With only a white dress and her bare feet, Elisabeth stood beside the other nine girls as the beasts prowled around them menacingly. A silver dagger pierced each of our wrists, signaling the start of the hunt! “We honor the moon goddess; let your blood lead your mate to you!”

So it appeared that she was to start paying her way on her back with this absolutely massive, broad-shouldered, tattooed, aptly-named wild warrior. Gideon was a large man, but this modern viking put him to serious physical shame; if Gideon’s dick had split her in half in agony, Iris could only imagine what this monster’s cock would do to her. She just hoped that he left her able to walk… and able to fuck the rest of the boys downstairs, because of course they’d be close behind. She knew there would be blood soaking and staining her thighs before things were done, long before they decided that they’d used her up. Stopping her jumbled thoughts, Iris slowly lowered herself to her knees. **** Liam “Viking” Callahan thought the job was done. Evidence buried. Debt paid to The Road Devils MC. Then he drives out of the Utah mountains with a secret in the back of his van: a terrified woman running for her life. Iris has spent six months planning her escape from Gideon and the Garden of Divine Light. She’s barefoot, freezing, and desperate enough to gamble on a stranger who looks dangerous... but still safer than the hell she left behind. So she hides. And prays. When the Road Devils discover Iris, the truth unravels: a cult, a tyrant, and a woman who fled into a winter night wearing nothing but a nightgown and borrowed boots. She’s broken, but not defeated. Iris wants her life back... her body, her choices, her fearlessness. The only man she feels safe with is the towering, gentle Viking. As trust turns into desire, neither of them sees the danger closing in. Gideon wants his “property” returned... and he won’t stop until he gets it.

"If you can't satisfy me with your mouth, then you'll have to satisfy me some other way." In one swift motion, he tore off her flimsy top and skirt, tossing the shredded fabric aside. The implications of his actions became quite clear to Visenya. "Please, let me try again... with my mouth. I believe I can..." "Quiet!" Lucian's voice reverberated off the walls of his bedchamber, instantly silencing her. This was not the way she had envisioned her first time. She had imagined passionate kisses and tender caresses from a man who loved and cherished her. But Lucian was not capable of love, and he certainly didn't cherish her. Instead, she was cursed with a mate consumed by vengeance, and wanted nothing more than to watch her suffer. ——— Ten years had passed since dragons ruled over the world, and Visenya had taken her rightful place as the Lycan Queen. Vampires were forced into the shadows, as hunting and enslaving humans became punishable by death. Finally, the world found peace. However, everything changed when Dragon Lord Lucian emerged from his induced slumber, only to discover the annihilation of his entire race at the hands of Visenya's father. Stripped of her kingdom, Visenya was condemned to a life of servitude as Lucian's slave. The cruelest twist of fate awaited her when she learned that her long-awaited mate was none other than the vengeful Dragon Lord himself. Consumed by their mutual hatred, will they be able to resist the powerful bond between mates? Or will Lucian push Visenya to her limits, only to regret it in the end? WARNING: This story may contain content that some may find disturbing.

I had seven days left to live. My father was the God of War. My mother was the Goddess of the Harvest. I was born with divine power running through my veins, and like all gods, I should have lived forever. But I'd been poisoned by Godsbane, a plant so deadly that even the Healer had no cure. I forced myself back to the temple through the pain, one step at a time. That was when my husband Caelum, the King of the Gods, came home. His expression was grave. "Lyra," he said, "your sister Selene has collapsed. Her divine blood is completely spent. The Healer says she won't survive the month. The only way to save her is for someone who shares her bloodline to give her half their divine blood." "You're twins. Your blood is perfectly matched." He paused. "Would you reconsider donating half of yours?" "I know it's a lot to ask." He hesitated, then reached into his robe and placed a divine decree on the table before me. It called for the revocation of my title as Queen. "But if you won't save Selene, I'll have to honor her last wish. She says she wants to marry me before she dies." I looked at the decree for a long moment. "Don't worry," he said, his voice softening as he took my hand. "Once this is over, I'll burn it myself and marry you again as my Queen. Lyra, you know you're the only one for me." I looked at him trying so carefully not to push too hard, and something hollow settled in my chest. He wasn't the only one. Even my parents, when I'd refused before, had turned cold and driven me from our home: "If you'd rather watch your sister die than help her, then get out. Don't ever come back." If that was what they all wanted, fine. I had seven days left anyway. "All right," I said. "I'll give her the blood." My father and mother were pleased. They said I'd finally come to my senses. I finally became the Queen they'd always wanted me to be. A good daughter. But when I died, why did they all cry?

BASTARD SON OF THE VIKINGS Palermo does not forgive. Neither does it forget. When Guerrero Valenti, the feared leader of the Vikings, vanished, the city exhaled a dangerous calm—but only for a moment. In the shadows, enemies waited. Rivals sharpened their knives. And one woman bore a secret that could ignite every street in the city. Lucia Romano carried the child of a man who had disappeared into legend and rumor. A son who had not been claimed, not protected, not named. The city whispered of him with venom: the bastard of the Vikings. The boy was fragile, but he was a storm waiting to erupt. And every night, Palermo tested him. Masked men tried to snatch him from his crib. Fire, steel, and blood became his lullabies. Yet he survived. Every threat only sharpened his instincts, every scream hardened his mother’s resolve. But whispers spread faster than steel through the night—rumors of a man returning. A shadow that would claim everything, sparking fear in every heart: Guerrero Valenti. The father who abandoned him. The legend whose name alone commands obedience. The storm that will rise, carrying vengeance, blood, and fire. And when he comes, Every man who dared call the bastard his enemy will fall. Every street, every roof, every whispered corner will bow to the son of Guerrero Valenti or be washed in blood. This is the story of survival. Of fire and steel. Of a mother and her son. Of a father’s return. Even the earth is getting ready to absorb blood … the blood of those who call the legitimate son of the Vikings a “BASTARD", and collect necks........the necks of those fallen by the sword of GUERRERO VALANTI. And upon his return Heads will bow to the one they called a BASTARD .

Samael is reeling after being rejected by Freya. His vampire rage has taken over and the love he once felt for her has been replaced with fury. Freya has enough on her plate without having a vengeful vampire ex warpath path. Can Freya defeat her enemies and reconcile with Samael? Or will she be Sacrificed By A Sire King?