Bjorn Ragnar Novels & Stories

I nodded. “Thank you for that. Have you found out anything yet?” He shook his head. “No, Felix and Cornelius have been working on it.” I looked at him confused. “Why are they working on it?” He looked over at Lynn and she nodded at him. “Jensen, Cornelius is the Don of the Roman mafia. He is the reason why we were able to save you.”

But most of all, I cursed myself for being so quick to agree to risky deals because that is what got me here, steering my ship into the harbour of the dragon capital. Somehow instead of enjoying my freedom, I was now stealing for someone else, not just someone, but Balor fucking Bloodstone. And not just stealing from some random person but Garren Ryuu, the King of Dragons who had somehow become a living deity amongst his kind for defeating his ancestor. Ryuu, the goddess of dragons herself. "You know it could be worse," Helga chirped. I turned and glared at her as she sat on my shoulder in her pixie form.

He scratched his face several times with his bloodstained fingers, staining his long, greasy brown hair as it fell on both sides of his face; then it was the turn of the hairy left shoulder and then the right armpit. Ragnar watched the spectacle without making any noise. He then wasted no time. He started to wriggle and rock back and forth as he shook his feet to loosen his ties. He took advantage of the precarious shelter afforded him by a branch of fragrant leaves. However, the bump on his back did not help him. It reduced his movements and limited his action. The colossus’s attention was focused on his task, he raised and violently brought down his huge knife to butcher the animal and bre

A young boy came into the living room and Sagon stopped and sat me to my feet. "Say hello to your son Bjorn," he grinned slightly and turned me towards the young boy that looked like a miniature version of Dagon. My hands went to my mouth as I gasped. Bjorn Ogrith, my once tiny infant, has grown into a strapping young lad. I embraced him and cried when he said, "I've missed you, mother." I held his face in my hands as I looked over his grown face. His yellow eyes were dancing merrily at me examining him so thoroughly.

Njord said, “I will go and question everyone I can find. We will get to the bottom of this, Aunt Miriam, I swear.” A whole candle burned down to the wick before there was any further news. Beyla wondered if the waiting had been like this – intense, unbearable – when she had been abducted. She doubted it somehow. The Jarl’s male heir would always be higher in the reckoning than a female. Two things happened almost simultaneously: Simon claimed he could not find Hubert anywhere, and who should turn up at the palace gates according to a herald but Njord’s long lost father, Ragnar himself.

James was still speaking when Ragnar abruptly cut him off. "Focus on the road, James. I don't need your theories right now. Find me evidence of who Aloha is working with. I want this evidence to resolve the matter," Ragnar asserted firmly. James knew Ragnar's no-nonsense disposition well. He glanced at Ragnar through the rearview mirror and discreetly took a quick snapshot of his expression. But seeing Ragnar's stern countenance, James kept his mouth shut and continued to drive cautiously.

Natasha had spent the time standing at the narrow window, watching snow begin to fall over the Northern stronghold's outer courtyard. Seraphine had been right. Freya had spoken freely during the wait, more freely than Natasha expected from a politician of her caliber. Ragnar, she explained, was her nephew, the son of her late brother who had ruled before him. Ragnar's own son, Bjorn's father, had died twelve years ago in a border skirmish with the Eastern Territories. He had been Ragnar's chosen successor, a warrior of renowned brutality who shared his son's hatred of southern packs. His death had left a wound in the Northern pack's politics that had never fully healed. “Bjorn idolizes a man

He looks like a settled wolf now, though I know he can still snap a rogue wolf's spine without blinking his eyes. "Where is Bartosz?" I ask as I take my seat right next to Magnus's cold body. "At the northern training grounds," Ulrich says smoothly, reaching for his horn of wine. "The warrior trial grounds in the Frostfang Capital." I blink. "The capital?"

He brushed his thumbs over my knuckles as if checking to see if I was solid. "It's her," he choked out. He looked at Kael. He needed to be sure. Kael gave him a small, tight nod. Ragnar turned back to me. He studied my face like a map he’d lost years ago. A small, broken smile touched his lips. His eyes were a strange, glowing blue-green. When he spoke, it was a rough rasp. "What is your name?" He stopped, then shook his head. "I know it. I just need to hear you say it."

I mumbled, turning around and locking my hands around his neck. “That’s the problem that one faces while dating young and immature girls. They are always insecure and anxious.” “You should have thought about it in advance. Now, deal with it,” I growled, realizing that he was just teasing me. “I saw a pup with Gianna. Who is he?” “That’s her son, Ragnar.” “Her biological son? ” I asked and felt I should mind my own business. “Forget it.” “Yes. It’s her biological son,” he answered, not hiding anything from me.