Holy Barbarians Book Novels & Stories

Obsidian flared volcanic as mahogany thighs parted instinctively, hakama hiking invitation. War table cool glass under my ass lift-hoist, his porcelain strength effortless, indigo pooling forgotten. Gi ripped open dragon-bared, my nails raking chest, old scars fresh. "Earn," I hissed contralto profane, hazel challenging as fingers freed his length thick veined command-hard. He surged home, hilt-deep groan-shared, pace piston savage—hips slamming mahogany curves into glass creak-threat, neon fracturing our rhythm strobe-wild.

Alpha King Theon sighed reluctantly and said, “ Do tell us your opinion, you've never suggested anything before so it would be great to hear from you for the first time. ” She stood straight and glanced at Diana and then at Alpha Jon before making eye contact with everyone in the room, “ Alpha Bran called them wild chaotic barbarians if I'm not mistaken,” And they all nodded. “ My question is, how would barbarians such as themselves learn dark arts? People with no place to go or hide, would only spend time trying to survive and to exclude themselves from us ” “ That doesn't stop at least one of them from practising dark arts” Alpha King Theon retorted.

Chapter 7 Harper The coffee in my hand had gone cold somewhere between Drake explaining that Dominic was in a medically induced coma and him telling me that the Council was already drafting language to classify Marcus's attack as "evidence of demonic contamination spreading through Midnight Moon's leadership structure." I hadn't drunk it since.

I say, “we start with the beginning. The Warren bloodline. The Hallow. And why you were hidden.” The barn smells like dust, old wood, and the faintest trace of sage from rituals long past. Raven stands in the center of the room, arms wrapped around herself, eyes scanning every corner like she’s trying to memorize it all at once. She looks so much like Delaney in this moment it hurts. I clear my throat and walk to the old cabinet against the wall. The hinges creak as I open it, revealing a stack of worn books, a few relics wrapped in cloth, and an old leather‑bound photo album. Raven’s eyes follow my hands. “What’s that?”

Stripes. Burning across my body like fire. The air itself seemed to change. The wolves hesitated. Just for a second. That was their mistake. I moved. Faster than before. Stronger. Unstoppable. I tore through them. No hesitation now. No strategy. Just dominance. One after another. They fell. Until only one remained. Celdor stepped forward. Finally. I tilted my head slightly, blood dripping from my jaw. “You should have stayed hidden.” He didn’t respond.

The attic of the old Victorian in Salem smelled of cedar, dried sage, and the sharp metallic bite of charged mercury. Moonlight poured through the tall, arched window in pale shafts, catching on the salt-and-chalk circle etched into the wide-plank floorboards. At its center stood Rowan Hale, twenty-nine, barefoot, wearing only a sheer black slip that clung to her full breasts and wide hips, the silk so thin her dark nipples showed through. Her locs hung loose down her back, threaded with tiny silver beads that glinted like stars. In her left hand she held an obsidian athame; in her right, a small copper bowl filled with her own blood, crushed night-blooming jasmine, and powdered star-anise.

“You are a homewrecker. You were sleeping with my mother before my dad even died. You both are absolutely disgusting!” “Well, now I know why you look at me with so much vitriol,” he replied, completely unbothered by my outburst. He ran a heavy, masculine hand over the edge of my bookshelf, casually glancing at his reflection in my vanity mirror. “For the record, I never touched your mother while your father was alive. It was after he passed. She was faithful to him until the very end.” I hated him. I hated his calm, arrogant voice, his suffocating presence, and the way he completely dismantled my anger without even trying.

💦Last Call💦 The bar in the heart of Palermo was almost empty by the time the clock struck two in the morning. Last call had come and gone, and the few remaining patrons had stumbled out into the warm Sicilian night. I was wiping down the polished wooden counter, my short black skirt riding up my thighs as I leaned over, when he spoke from the shadows at the end of the bar. “Another whiskey, if you don’t mind.” His voice was deep, rough, like aged whiskey itself. I looked up and my breath caught.

“But I want to see it all.” With a sharp tug, he ripped the loincloth away. The barbarian’s cock sprang free, enormous, uncut, and throbbing. Torvald’s own cock also throbbed at the sight. He wrapped his hand around it, stroking slowly, feeling its weight and heat. “On your knees,” He ordered. The barbarian hesitated only a moment before the guards forced him down. He stepped forward, rubbing the fat head of his cock across the man’s lips. “Open.” he commanded.

Wilbur controlled the three white dragons to meet three of the Barkers, while he summoned the historical halberd to meet the Barker coming for him. "Take this!" "You're going to die, Barker!" Both sword and halberd collided, and a powerful aura spread out. At the same time, the three white dragons exploded as they struck Barker, emitting a brilliant white glow that swallowed the three Barker clones. Following that, the white glow disappeared as three of the clones collapsed at the same time.