Romans & histoires Viking Romance

Victoria hardly noticed that wolves were backing off, that the fight around them slowed, that even the most seasoned warriors hesitated, because this — this was not normal. This was not just a bond. It was a claim. A shift. The rise of something not of the world they knew. Kenzo suck-felched in air, the rush like that of a man pulling himself from the depths, his back bowing, his hands launching up to grasp on to her upper arms, as though she were the only thing keeping him moored to this good earth. And maybe she was. As Victoria’s vision blurred, her own body shaking, her heart beaten against her ribs, it was not just his pain she felt — it was his rage.

The sweet and soft touch of her lips lingered. Andrius subconsciously flicked his tongue out. Wow. He was caught by Halle on the spot and directly started a large battle. Andrius was the Wolf King! He had to be a pro at kissing too. He immediately launched a counterattack, and his fierceness and swiftness made Halle lose ground. In the end, she finally pushed Andrius away when she ran out of breath. Then...

His gaze drifted down my body, slow, deliberate. Viktor’s eyes were a storm contained, gray like iron skies before thunder, sharp enough to cut through bone. He stood tall, arms crossed with the practiced stillness of a man who didn’t need movement to command a room. Next to him, Aleksander leaned casually against the wall, but even his cocky smirk faded in the presence of Viktor’s focus. And that focus was entirely on me.

"You truly are as romantic as your father Hakkon was with Queen Aslaugh, which is to say, you would slaughter a boar in front of me, dearest Turry, and give me its still beating heart – but come evenings of poetry, mead, and song, and you would blunder about like the oafish warrior princess that you are, stumbling over confessions of love and songs of paramours. Your singing is like a dying cat in heat, and the poetry you have tried to recite to me is truly atrocious. The feminine arts of courting are better left to your delicate little sister Yuri." "I am too a romantic!" I protested, nipping her nose with my unusually sharp teeth. She laughed to high Valhalla, so loud Wotan the Raven could

Katalea offered, “and wearing the helmets with the two horns.” “Ah, yes, I have seen those. They were not worn by my comrades, but seemed to add to the lore of the Nomadic Vikings.” He turned to Katalea, noticed the teasing grin on her face, “In truth, the Vikings often took women wherever they were. I believe true Vikings could come in any shade.” “So you come from a line of virile men?” Katalea quipped. Aquina joined in the banter, “Or at least horny ones.” She scoffed at her own joke, blushed, and looked away.

She told him but just that night, as if warning her that things wouldn't be alright the raven came back and sat on the tree outside her window. Angelica watched it for a long while but it didn't fly away. Getting out of her bed she went to the window. She looked outside and watched the darkness that fell over her town. Then she looked up and far away. She saw the cursed castle standing proudly on the hill. People called it the wolf's den because they said anyone who went to the castle never came back. They were eaten by the big hungry wolf living there.

Penelope asked and the woman bobbed her head again. “It started a long time ago when your great-great-grandfather was in love with a werewolf girl, Liam. They were not mates, but lovers. It was a time when werewolves and Lycans lived together in peace. Their love bloomed so greatly that everybody was jealous of how beautiful their love was and they all took them as their role models. They wanted to get married and live happily together but everything changed when the werewolf girl found her mate, as destined by the Moon Goddess."

NOTE BEFORE YOU READ….. Note before you read… The next few chapters are written in the Carolingian Renaissance and the Vikings era but don't stick to the fact. You will find a few things that have been added to fit into the story. So if you find anything strange or unusual, then remember the next few chapters are based on historical fantasy fiction books. Do add or check the other book of the author. Revenge on the Mafia lord. .. .. .. YEAR 956 AD. It was a loud night, one where the sounds of crickets chirping could not be heard and the clouds smothered the moon and stars.

CHAPTER SIX Kai’s POV The waves of the ocean crashed violently against the rocks splashing my beta and me with sprays of salty water. The air at the base of the cliff was damp and thick with the smell of funk and salt. This specific area was known for housing dead bodies and skeletons of the wolves that the arrogant Blackwood pack no longer wanted. It was constantly filled with dead and gore, making it a touring ground for the dark witches. “It is eerily quiet here, Kai. The tide is pulling back,” Kaelen observed, stepping over one of the decayed bodies on the riverbank. Kaelen is the only one who could stand within ten feet of me when my beast starts clawing at my brain.

“And to answer your question… No. I never touched her, I never kissed her, I never even thought of her in any way. I couldn’t when all I thought of was you.” I held her hips and pulled her closer to me. I tilted my head and moved my face closer to hers. Through hooded eyes, I eyed her parted lips. I swallowed at the thought of feeling her soft lips with mine. Even after I had had my fill of my desire for her, I still craved her. “The only woman I will ever want to touch, to kiss, to fuck and to love is you. Whether I am alive, unconscious or dead, you will be the only woman I will desire for the rest of my life.”