Ingrid Vikings Novels & Stories

My mind was still on Adasha, on the scars etched into her skin, and the rage that was growing harder to contain. “Is everything okay, Kai?” Darius linked me, his voice calm but concerned. I nodded curtly, not trusting myself to speak aloud. Ingrid’s voice followed me, her sharp, grating tone cutting through the air. “That woman was someone’s wife; she is not pure. You cannot associate yourself with someone’s leftovers, even if she is a widow,” she said, her words laced with disdain.

She stumbled into the house and then looked up, seemingly noticing me for the first time. “Baby!!!!” she squealed. Goddess help me. “You look like sh&t, Ingrid. Go to bed.” “Did you come to see me? You want me back?” I rolled my eyes. “Hardly. Go to bed, Ingrid. I came to see Axel.” “Oh, he’s not up yet,” she slurred. “How would you know that? You are obviously just getting home.” Ingrid giggled. “Because I slipped some sleeping pills into his dinner last night.”

‎Two years ago, Ingrid had played her hand perfectly: forged photographs, a doctored voice memo, mercenaries to stage the perfect betrayal. ‎She had watched Mikhail break. ‎She had tasted victory. ‎But victory had slipped through her fingers. ‎He had let Nora run. ‎And now he was chasing. ‎Ingrid stopped at the window, nails digging into her palms. ‎She had been patient. ‎She had waited for him to crawl back, to realize she was the only woman strong enough to stand at his side. ‎She had endured every night he used her body while thinking of someone else. ‎She had smiled through the humiliation.

Ropes were fastened tightly around her wrists and ankles. Guerrero turned away from her and walked toward the palace rooftop. The chants rose again. “Vikings we stand.” “Vikings we rule.” Guerrero raised his hand. Silence fell. “People of Palermo,” he began, his voice carrying far. “I am Guerrero Valanti. Leader of the Vikings. I have returned to lead… and to rule.” The crowd erupted in cheers. “When I first met Lucia,” he continued, “she was charming. The kind of woman a Viking could fall for. We were ….. You know…..that night. A voice echoed taking advantage of The Silence you fucked Lucia…

She had remained steadfast in her belief that she could find her own Ned. After that, Ingrid's friend was very surprised when Ingrid became a celebrity and got together with Ned after he lost his memories. The video cut off, and Aiden began displaying the usernames that Ingrid had used after she joined Oceanford College and signed up for all the clubs that Angeline had participated in. Ingrid was beautiful, so she had gained quite a reputation at Oceanford College. There were often pictures of her on the forums. At the time, Ingrid had returned to her feminine style, with perfect manicures to match.

I was nineteen again, losing her for the first time. The scent of her perfume still lingered in the air—sweet, new, with a tangy touch of citrus. Liza. Sin. The only woman ever to have me by the throat with one look. And now? She was now someone else's wife. I stood before the mirror. The face it showed didn't show the man everyone called a billionaire. Or the President of the Vikings MC. It showed the boy who'd grown up in an orphanage, the boy who had nothing, until one girl made him believe that he had everything.

Even after a single night, my mate has that privilege. If she wants it. That sour pit curdles my gut once more, and I remember my worry on the long, dark ride here. Ingrid had access, potentially motive. Her sudden appearance, especially in secret, doesn’t exactly seem like a good sign. And she was wearing a maid’s dress, one from inside the palace. How she expects no one to notice a blonde beauty like her here, I have no idea, but clearly it worked well enough to get her inside the palace walls. The rumors about Ingrid Solberg mostly paint her as a dangerous wild card, but no one has ever said she isn’t smart.

Lance looked back at Ingrid, "Alright then, make it happen. Inez will be your personal maid. Dismiss all the other maids." I felt the anger build up inside of me as I watched Ingrid lie to Alpha Lance with a smile on her face. My mouth opened to speak, to tell him the truth, but before I could utter a single word, Ingrid pushed me back, hard. I stumbled and almost fell, but she held onto my arm tightly, digging her nails into my skin.

Then he set the phone face down on the table and picked up his water glass and took a slow drink and set it back down, and the control of that, the deliberate measured calm of it, told her more about what it was costing him than any reaction would have. “What is she saying,” Bianca said. “Play it,” he said. She turned the phone back over and pressed play on the link Kemi had sent. The sound was low but the restaurant was quiet enough. Ingrid’s voice came through, steady and carefully broken, the performance of a woman who had practiced this particular register. “I love my brother,” Ingrid was saying. “And it’s because I love him that I can’t stay silent while I watch someone take advantage o

The faint metallic tang of the cold night air mixed with the growing musk of arousal. Ingrid Larsen, a 26-year-old Norwegian shipping heiress with snow-pale skin and platinum blonde hair, stood completely naked in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass. Her full breasts rose and fell with quick, excited breaths, her stiff pink nipples aching in the cool draft. A trickle of wetness already ran down the inside of her thigh. The door opened behind her. Erik stepped in — a 6’11” Black Norwegian mountain guide with a body carved from pure power. His dark skin glowed in the firelight as he approached, radiating heat like a furnace.