Arcane Viktor X Reader Novels & Stories

The sky above the ritual stone roiled crimson, threatening to burst into chaos if not tamed soon. And in the center of it all stood Brannon, the Werewolf Alpha—massive, bloodied, and trembling with rage. His once gleaming fur was matted with dirt and blood, his amber eyes now feral, rimmed with red. The weight of loss—his son, his packmates—had warped him into something monstrous. And facing him, in deadly silence, stood Christian, the Vampire King. His obsidian armor glinted dully under the fading light, streaked with blood not his own. His face, carved from stillness, betrayed no emotion—only the storm behind his eyes betrayed the seething fury beneath his calm.

Vanilla was one of my favourite scents and I could not help but interrupt her turning to try and find the owner of that scent. My mystery guy had moved from the stairs so I could not see him anymore. Without putting too much more attention on him I really wanted to find the owner of the pine vanilla scent. The more I smelled it, the more I knew it had to be my mate. As I moved through the crowd the scent got stronger. I gasped as the mystery guy was walking in a direct line toward me with a smile on his face. As he got closer, the pine vanilla smell got stronger. Shelby quickly started yipping Mate! Mate! My excitement started to grow. He came to stand right in front of me smiling and

The archon alpha snarled, “Don’t show me that infernal book that keeps giving you baseless ideas. I took you in my pack because I thought you were inquisitive and wanted to contribute to the pack’s survival, not spew random theories.” Her voice was beginning to rise yet again and Dominic feared that her wolf would show up again. As such, he tried to calm her down. Dominic put himself in between them and spoke in a gentle voice, “At least, listen to what he says archon. There is no harm in reading a page or two.” Hearing him, Valencia snatched the book while staring daggers at her omega and went back to the bed, depositing the book with a loud thud that made Freyge wince.

Her hand brushed his when they climbed the fence, but she pulled away like he burned her. Maybe he did. She hadn’t looked at him—not really—since Roman died. He can't really blamed her. Somehow he knew the feeling of grief all too well. It's the kind of feeling that stripped away the light with shadows of memories dancing at the edge of oblivion. --- Alaric sat on the porch that night. The cigarette in his mouth was ash. He hadn’t lit it. Just a habit. Just something to hold. The stars were lost behind heavy clouds. The kind of night that promised rain. Or worse. It didn't matter anyway. He already lost everything a long time ago but he has Victoria now. Safe, alive. Right now that's all tha

“Of course, brother.” Victor pulled me into the nearby study, closing the door firmly. The second we were alone, he backed me against the wall, kissing me hard and deep. His hand slid under my dress, fingers finding me wet again. “You’re mine, Elara,” he growled against my mouth. “Don’t forget that. Damien is dangerous, he takes what he wants and he wants everything.” I whimpered as his fingers teased me. “I feel so lost, I hate myself for this, but I can’t stop wanting you. And now this, two of you? I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

And I've to continue this until my time of matching with my mate doesn't come And the most upsetting part is I don't get to eat any single piece of bread if I don't cooperate with my brother with his training. My brother Victor is a robust, strong, and eligible werewolf among our pack. And he is not my blood-related brother but he is my cousin brother by relationship. Cause he is the son of my aunt Camilia Jones and he is in charge of giving me the training because his mother insisted him to do so After I got out after finishing the training session, I happen to pass by my father Humphrey D. Jones, and my aunt Camilia. I don't w what he was doing here

he said, his voice a dangerous whisper, “was never part of my pack.” I could feel his breath against my lips; it was hot, controlled, and far too close. The world tilted. My chest tightened. Then his scent hit me—smoke, cedarwood, and something sharp, almost intoxicating. It filled the air between us. I hated that I noticed it. I hated how it pulled me closer. “Axnarr!” His voice cracked like thunder. The door burst open. Two guards rushed in, blades drawn. “Take her,” Viktor said, his tone cold and final. “Slaughter her.”

Victor Bennett entered like he had been waiting for exactly this moment. He moved with smooth confidence, dark suit perfectly tailored, a thick folder in his hand that looked far too official. His eyes found me immediately, locking on with an intensity that made my stomach twist. The smile that curved his lips sent ice sliding down my spine. It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t friendly. It was calculating, sharp, like a predator sizing up prey. “Alpha Hawke,” Victor said, voice loud across the chamber, smooth and assured. “I bring formal proof of the secondary mate bond the moon goddess has granted me with Aria.”

To claim. Raven gasped—soundless, but felt in the arch of her back, the tightening of her fingers in Victoria’s armor. The bite was sharp, then warm, then something deeper—ancient magic stirring, blood calling to blood. Victoria drank for only a heartbeat—long enough to taste Raven’s life, her strength, her love—then pulled back. Blood welled at the twin punctures. Victoria reached down, drew Raven’s dagger from her belt—the small blade she had given her months ago—and pressed it to her own throat.