Arcane #viktor Novels & Stories

A lifetime waking up in his arms, I'd consider myself sent to heaven. Declan shut his eyes when my brain makes a horrifying connection. Lock picking…Viktor. Viktor is a thief. He’s told me several times that he came all the way up here to rob the safes of their treasure. They have similar ones above ground, so he must be able to open them. He’s a fucking cat burglar. Fighting back the nausea that slammed into me. I swallowed. This is the point where I push his heart off a cliff top. Everything is going to change, and tears sting my eyes.

he growled. The rouge in the black cloak laughs sardonically. “Oh, you can’t kill me, alpha. I’m the key to your heir’s life…” the rouge smiled wickedly, and a small bottle appeared in front of him at some point. “Does it ring a bell, alpha?” Drake and Beta Dillon look disappointed. “How dare you!” Drake growled.

His exhaustion was more than physical; he was still vibrating from the energy he’d absorbed in the Pit. Elara knelt beside him, placing a hand on his forehead. "You did enough, Zane. Rest." The quiet healer caught her wrist, his eyes wide and terrified. He didn't speak, but his message was clear: He's coming. "Who?" Elara whispered. Kael walked over, his face illuminated by the flickering green light of the monitors Rhys had set up. "Viktor. He knows we’re the only ones who can resist. The Anchor is an anomaly in his system. We’re the 'noise' in his perfect signal."

I refused to become another grave marker in that story. Victor. The name floated up like a quiet anchor. He was my old crush from before the supernatural storm swallowed my life. Tall, steady, hazel eyes that once made my stomach flutter in a classroom far simpler than this. Aunt Dolores wanted him for me. He was a lycan prince. He represented an exit from this suffocating cycle of guilt and secret touches in hidden corners. If I kept feeding this addiction with ShadowKing, Jax would eventually come. He would tear through these walls looking for his money and his naughty little nun. But even if he did, Aunt Dolores would never let him near me. She hated everything he stood for. He was cold a

"Because from where I'm sitting, the thing you did for her cost me five years. And it's costing her something now. So if it was all for her, tell me what you were protecting her from." He looked at the table again. "One more question," I said. "Then I'll leave you to it." He waited. "Rafael Moreno. You know the name." Something crossed Viktor's face. It was quick and complicated. "Arianna was with him," I said. "After she left. She had a son with him. That's the story she's given me." I held his eyes. "Is that the truth?" Viktor opened his mouth. His phone rang.

Damon was here too. The mark on my thigh started burning very hot. Nyx was howling inside my head, confused and furious. Damon turned to me, his dark eyes full of jealousy. His hand found mine and squeezed me tight. “Tell him,” he growled under his breath. “Tell him who you really belong to.” Alpha Kael took one step closer to me, his voice loud and clear. “Choose between us, Annie. Or I will fight your Alpha for what is mine. “Fight who?” Damon retorted, his chest literally pulsing very hard. “Fight me?”

I was just about to fold myself into the vehicle when I halted, glaring Victor dead in the eyes as I questioned, "How can I be certain that you don't plan to do anything to me?" Victor huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose as his features twisted in a pensive mask. After a minute or two, he began signing, "Message your friend. Tell her you're with me. My name is Victor Silva. If she doesn't hear from you in the morning then she should file a charge against me." Silva. Hispanic decent. His tanned skin suddenly made a lot of sense. I fished out my phone from the pocket of my trench coat and opened a chat with Erica.

Alaric’s men surged forward to intervene, but a sharp glance from him froze them in their tracks. “Stand back!” Alaric ordered. Viktor was feral. He was on top of Alaric, punching erratically, his knuckles splitting and painting Alaric’s pale face red. His eyes were no longer as I remembered; they were unstable as he fought with the desperation of a man who had already lost everything. For a heartbeat, it looked like Viktor was actually gaining control. He was landing hits that should have broken any normal man. But Alaric just smiled through the blood.

He appears older than me or my age. When I try to get up, he offers his hand, and I grab it with a thankful smile. I gape at the feeling of his hand and quickly let go. They are cold. So cold that it sends shivers down my spine. He chuckles, taking steps back away from my private space. “Cold, right?” He doesn't wait for a response before he clarifies with a shrug, “I run on cold temperature.” Peering up, I stare into his eyes. A sharp breath comes from me when I stare into the most second beautiful pair of eyes I have ever seen. They're a mixture of red and golden and refuse to settle on a color. I gulp, “who are you?” “Viktor,” he grins boyishly. “Viktor Ben Drago.”

Elara hovered nearby, ever the shadow. Viktor emerged first: a towering figure, broad-shouldered with salt-and-pepper hair cropped short, scars crisscrossing his arms like battle maps. His aura pulsed with alpha power, a match for mine, but tempered with a diplomat's smile. Kira followed, nodding respectfully. "Alpha Blackwood," Viktor boomed, his voice carrying a faint Eastern European accent, extending a hand. "Congratulations on the heir—and Hanlon's demise. The packs owe you a debt." I clasped his forearm in the traditional grip, testing his strength. Solid, unyielding. "Debt's mutual if your intel holds. The bunker was a goldmine—and a nightmare."