Ragnar Axe Novels & Stories

The silence stretched for only a moment. “Pass this.” He heard Caden say to Ragnar, and moments later, he saw something shift in the low light between the bars. Ragnar passed him a dagger. “It’s made of silver and infused with wolfsbane. Send it right into his heart when you get the chance. Be patient and true, or else we’re all screwed and your prissy mate becomes fodder for starving soldiers,” Caden instructed gravely.

Ragnar walked in with his entourage, causing the servants scatter to their respective positions and bow. Ragnar is an imposing figure, standing tall with broad shoulders, and he has an air of authority that seems to precede him. He's dressed in a regal attire, with a long, flowing robe that's adorned with intricate embroidery, and a gold-embellished sword hanging from his waist. Derek and Aurora got to their feet as the king approached their table. Aurora was unsure of what to do, but she knew she needed to show respect to the Alpha king. She looked over at Derek, hoping he could offer some guidance.

“Above you!” I look up and there between two spiked pillars a man stares down at me with black eyes. I hear the strange noises getting louder. More people begin to appear above the wooden-spiked fence. I bend down, unsheath me knife and stab the hand at the wrist. Immediately, the boy is free and I pull him to his feet. We head back to the group by the fire and Ragnar hands me the two-handed axe me father gave me after becoming Chief. As I take it from Ragnar, I whisper a soft prayer.

"I will take out the mjötuðrs (mutton suckers) before I go!" "We do not have time, Brother! Leave them!" Erik yelled over the growing cacophony. "We have to get Brandur to the tree!" A roar of frustration left the warrior's lips and he saw Magnus' lips curled into a cruel smile. He shoved his axe back into his belt and reached down to take one of Brandur's arms to help drag him away when he heard Ulfhild scream.

Ruby eyes blinked in the morning mist, eyes that looked vaguely familiar to her. “Oh my god, oh my god,” her breathing was becoming erratic, her heart beating like a rabbit, as she watched the incredible vision unfold before her. “Madchen, it’s ok,” Drago had a death grip on her arm, trying to calm her, but who could be calm at a time like this??

Nine was their sacred number since it connected the nine realms that existed within Yggdrasil. “I choose Gungnir, the great spear of Odin, Angurvadal, the stream of anguish, Gram, who brought death to Fafnir, Freyr’s sword, to fight when I am weak, Dáinsleif, to inflict wounds that never heal, Lævateinn, so that my step will never falter, Skofnung, the supernatural blade, Hǫfuð, the great sword of Heimdall and lastly Mjolnir.” Malachi chose his nine gifts and the rest were returned to the vault. These gifts would be sent to his house in Seward and he knew Jessica would banish them to his study.

Her pulse raced. Her breath quivered. Her wolf-less body wavered between obedience and terror. Yes. Yes. Bend. She lifted the blade. Rosalyn frowned, startled. “Maxine? What are you…?” Maxine lunged. But just as the blade grazed Rosalyn’s wrist… a sharp CRACK erupted. Maxine collapsed, unconscious. Someone stood behind her. I felt it before I saw it. A familiar signature of rage and blood. Lorenzo.

HUNT "If you want to be a leader, you can't make stupid decisions and mistakes. Love isn't what makes you a stronger Alpha for the pack, nor does mercy. Toughen up or get out of my pack," my father said, walking around my room. I remembered him killing one of the rogues earlier. The image haunted my mind as he drove his dagger into the rogue's neck and dark blood split from the open wound.

I take in everything at once. My brothers and their mates surround Drakon. He's actually hissing and lunging at each of them in turn. Roxy's face is covered in blood but she's up and ready to kill him. I catch her eye and almost throw the halberd her way. I meet Acasia's gaze and without another thought toss her the halberd. In one motion she catches it and swings.

The prince of the rouges growled. Drake was panting, gasping for air. He closes his eyes, feeling the presence of the beating heart. As he opened his eyes, it was blood red. He wore the devil's eye. It was cold, dark, mysterious, and dangerous. The prince of the rouges steps backward, trembling. He didn't try to struggle off the chain; he just wore his dangerous lopsided grin.