Ingrid Vikings Novels & Stories

And Ingrid has always had very high requirements for the quality of food, so in the end he could only order a salad and a glass of juice casually. Enduring the loving atmosphere of the two people in front of her as if no one was around, she was full of anger. However, when all the things they ordered came up, Ingrid suddenly found that he was still too young. Not only is she full of gas, but this forced dog food can still make her die! Isn't it just to eat a black tiger prawn, Sasha doesn't have no hands, Edward, you just peeled every shrimp and put it on her plate!

Although the whole thing was implemented according to Ingrid’s idea, Old Master Ferguson had agreed to it. Ingrid personally went to the influencer, bought the keyboard warriors, and made up those rumors. Old Master Ferguson then greeted the media platform and pushed this into the top trending topics. Ingrid had such panic and fear in her heart like a knife was hanging over her head, which would fall at any moment and cut her in half. She cried in the study, telling her grandfather how hard it was to work as a retail sales staff. Ingrid had to walk on eggshells and was treated with disdain.

Ingrid said, and I smiled at her. "Alpha Renfield is busy with our community projects. Gwyneth Mackenzie can represent both of us," I said, pointing to Gwen, and Ingrid did not look at Gwen with the same respect and kindness she greeted me. "And she is?" Ingrid asked. "Our mate and Luna," I said to her with a cold voice, letting her know I was taking offence. Picking up on my tone, the woman smiled at Gwen and stretched out her hand to shake her. "Nice to meet you, Luna Mackenzie. I am Ingrid Styles, assistant head of Intelligence and Security Affairs, short-form I.S.A," she said with a smile, and Gwen shook her, returning the same warmth.

Ingrid and Karol stood frozen, breaths shallow as they processed the horror unfolding before them. Ingrid’s heart pounded as she took a step forward, summoning all her courage. Her voice trembled, but she refused to back down. “Bjorn… my daughter is very young. She’s only 13. You cannot marry her.” She clutched her hands together, silently praying he would back off, that some sense of reason would reach him.

There was a tap on the door. “Not now,” I shouted. “Please, Alpha. Let me in.” Didn’t vampires ask that? Only by a window if legend were to be believed. And not even Mina would knock. “Who is it?” “Ingrid.” I stiffened. “Have you brought us some sustenance?” “No, Alpha. That’s not why I’m here.” “Enter,” I said, trying to compose myself. But Mina’s sister was dressed for the gym and comparatively modestly for her.

Ralf: Fuck me she is intelligent. Me: I kind of gathered that. Ralf: She speaks fluent Russian, as well as all Nordic Languages, some Asian Languages, and Arabic. How is she related to you again? Me: Watch it Beta. I chuckle and show the messages to my wife. She laughs. “Someone to give you a run for your money I see.” I open my door and my driver gets out and opens the door for Ingrid, I go around and meet her and we make our way into the house. Ingrid checks the kitchen to make sure the fridge and cupboards were stocked. She pulled out the milk and put the kettle on ready to make tea for when they arrived.

She gritted her teeth. “I’ll call on the mansion to confirm it to Miss Helena first, ma’am.” It cuts to her ego that Helena’s words weighed more than hers, and her blood is starting to boil again. She wanted to murder her own sister out of rage while she could feel the intense anger she was feeling. When the man nodded after calling Helena, who was also shocked that Ingrid was visiting her, she already knew that Ingrid was up to something again. While Ingrid was on her way to the mansion, riding in their private car, she was shocked that Louis Montville owned not just a mansion but a whole villa as his own property, his own house.

“Well,” Viking said, kicking down hard on his anger. “The food that you make now is for everyone, even you, baby. You want a muffin or bread or a burger or anything – you just have it.” She tilted her head at him, her face framed by intricate black braids that resembled wreaths of flowers. With her bright purple eyes, pink cheeks, and red-rose lips, she looked pre-Raphaelite: delicate and yet vibrant. “You know what,” Iris said. “You’re right. Time to break the habit of denial, huh?”

Her hand flew to her chest, and the sound carried too much fear, too much old loyalty, too much denial already forming before anyone had even explained. “No,” Ingrid said. “What do you mean she is not in Vandwood?” Keiran’s mouth twisted bitterly. “She is not here.” Ingrid tried to stand, forgetting her situation, the colour draining from her face. Her attempt only lifted her above her seat a little with her hands propping her up, pushing against the arms of the wheelchair for support. “Did she join the fight?” she asked, voice unsteady. “Did she try to prove herself and get caught in the attack? Maybe she went to the eastern line. Maybe she…”

the one who seemed to be the leader said, as his voice resonated in the vast place. "Louder!!" He screamed. The more they sang, the more the birds fell. "Master, you have to see this!" The one who was supposed to prepare the sacrifice said out of fear. "What the hell is happening?" Their mouths opened wide when they saw the scene before them… Ingrid was standing, her face was monstrous. The smile on her face never fading as her hooded eyes, savage and cunning, only came to life when they landed on the preys before her.