Historical Fiction Russian Novels & Stories

Since I stood up from his bed last night I had a funny feeling in my stomach. “I’m fine I promise. Let me get ready so you can go.” “No rush milaya,” he rubbed his thumb on my bottom lip. “Your first Russian lesson.” “What does it mean?” My heart was beating out of my chest. “It’s a pet name, like honey or darling.” He kissed me again and I slowly got up to get in the shower. My legs were like jelly.

Viktor’s eyes go to my hands and widen when I hold up the books. “Someone had hidden these in the wall next to the bookshelf with the pack’s histories. I tried to translate it with an app, but I know that it cannot be 100%. Read them and let me know, especially the entries dated from 1890.” I say and hand them over to him. He pages through them with eyes full of wonder but frowns when he gets to the entries that I mentioned. As he reaches the end of Dmitry’s writing, he looks up at me with horror.

Who were we to judge smirked Fyre as I sank into bed, body tired but mind racing. I resolved to learn more about the Alpha Romanov family. What was my lineage, despite all the specialised combat training and geographical knowledge of the area I still didn’t know my own heritage? I had a quick breakfast on my own and headed down to the library again, this time to read the pack archives, a log of all battles, encounters and notable deeds that formed their history. Our history corrected Fyre, we need to embrace White Forest if we’re going to be happy here. The archives weren’t secret, they were proudly displayed on thick mahogany tables, I took the year I was born out and glimpsed through

Prologue Anastasia Olivia, Scarlett, and I swayed to the music in the Russian Orchid, laughing and carefree. This nightclub in Moscow was a must, according to tips Scarlett received. It has been the best summer ever; it would stay with us forever. I couldn’t remember the last time all three of us felt so happy and relaxed. We were having the time of our lives. Our last hurrah before life would take us all away and back to reality. There was a young Russian singer on the stage singing, and even though we couldn’t understand a single word, the beat drove our bodies as we danced.

The German military in the Russian sector, which was sometimes described as an independent force, mimicked the Russians; so to know one was to know the other. Captain Myer had learned about my Russian lessons. One day he stopped by my desk and gave me three books written in Russian. One was written just after World War I and the other two more recently. All three of them focused on the role of Russian armor in the military. "Dave, take a swing at these books and see if there is any useful tactical information." "Yes, Sir. Can you tell me if these books are classified? Can my teacher help me if I run into translation problems?"

Petersburg with a formal event in the Winter Palace where the Czar has resided before the Russian Revolution. “Excited?” Salvatore smiled behind his glass of champagne at Marco across from him, chuckling at the wide-eyed look of his brother’s face sticking to the window of the jet, staring at the Russian skyline with glinting eyes. “A place rich in history. Thought it would be right up your alley,” “You have no idea,” Marco exhaled breathlessly, not tearing his gaze away with his breath catching in his throat at the beauty of the sight before him. While they were getting settled into their suite, Marco begged his brother to let him go sightseeing.

Alice is a noble in Russia, er, a former noble to be exact after she ran away from her family, Her father is Vladimir, one of the princes and war generals of Russia who lived hundreds of years ago. Outside Russia Vladimir is better known as "VladThe Impaler', because one of his favorite activities is torturing his prisoners of war by sticking a spear from the anus of his victim to penetrate the shoulder or head and then showing it to everyone. Sometimes it took days before the victim finally died. Of course, he did it hundreds of years ago when sadistic things like that were normal as punishment. Now He does it more carefully so as not to attract human attention.

Her days followed a rhythm she hadn’t chosen but had learned to navigate. Mornings: breakfast served in the formal dining room on fine china—always alone unless Nikolai joined her. The staff—Irina the house manager, a cook, two maids—were polite but distant, eyes averted. Afternoons: she was free to roam the guarded grounds. The library became her sanctuary—floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with Russian classics, English translations, history texts in multiple languages. She read voraciously, losing herself in stories of revolutions and exiles.

"Her name was Princess Yelena Vasilyevna Kuragina. She, too, would fuck anyone with enough money." "So, I am like an historical woman of class, a princess," Olga laughed, uncrossing her ankles from behind her neck and pushing up onto her elbows. "Can you cum for me?" she asked. "I want Yuri to watch your cock filling my mouth with cum so that when I remind him of this day, he will be able to picture it." Zach was laughing as he pulled his cock from Olga's tight pussy and helped her to sit up, smiling as his glistening, gooey cock disappeared into her mouth and down her throat.

image he worked so hard to maintain. I closed the closet, still grinning, and wandered into his bedroom. On his nightstand I found more books, all by Fyodor Dostoevsky: Crime and Punishment, Notes from Underground, The Idiot, White Nights. I picked one up and flipped through it. The pages were worn, corners folded and some lines underlined. He wasn't just pretending to like this stuff, he really was a superfan of Russian literature. I didn't believe it when he first told me, but now I believed it without a doubt.