Viking Vampire Novels & Stories

Rosewood then added, “Mr. Haraldsson, you come from a long line of Vikings, famous Nordic warriors of old. They lived at a time when people believed in magic, powerful gods, and dangerous monsters. Nearly every Viking was a fierce warrior. The question before us is, are you a warrior as well?” What in the fuck? This wasn’t what Bjorn expected tonight. He was expecting David Pendergast to introduce him to Bender’s high society as the fifty-year-old man who was fucking his teenage daughter. But Vikings? Warriors? “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Are you sure you have the right guy?” “We do indeed, Mr. Haraldsson,” David said, sitting forward and clasping his hands almost pleadingly. “I

I shuddered, my knees almost buckling. He brought those fingers to his lips. I gripped his hand and stopped him before he could put them into his mouth. His fingers were tinted pink with my wetness. The tears, the semen, the wetness between my legs—what we Vampires accept as natural is something I'm not so sure wouldn't thoroughly disgust a human. "Paul, I'm a Vampire," I said. "What makes my body wet is blood." He smiled. "It's okay. I'm a Werewolf. It's what I eat."

For months, a shaky truce had held between the vampires and werewolves, forged in blood after centuries of war. Viktor, a tall vampire with sharp features and eyes like polished obsidian, stood guard outside the princess's chambers. His job was simple: protect Lira, the werewolf princess, at all costs. One slip, one breach of the peace, and the fragile agreement would shatter, dragging both races back into slaughter.

Their leader, Viktor, a tall, menacing figure with piercing red eyes, addressed the group. “We cannot let the werewolves believe they have won. We need more power, and more allies. Only then can we take back what is rightfully ours.” One of the younger vampires stepped forward. “But Viktor, where will we find such allies? The werewolves have always been stronger in numbers.” Viktor smiled, revealing his sharp fangs. “There is a witch, Seraphine, who dwells in these woods. She possesses ancient and dark magic that can tip the scales in our favor. We will seek her aid.”

Michael asked, full of doubt. "Reread it; maybe there will be other information." Jake pointed at the device Emma held. Emma continued reading. "Vampires have their types and levels." Emma looked again at her two colleagues, who asked her to continue reading. "The first is Origin, a vampire of pure blood descent. This type of vampire is a vampire born from a vampire marriage. The speciality of origin vampires is their physical strength, like werewolves and yeti. The difference is that original vampires are stronger than werewolves, but werewolves have more senses and speed. It's different from Yetti, who is stronger than a vampire but stupider and slower," said Emma, reading with a strange f

“But the Lydo I know won’t think of killing me.” “No Zuka, that Lydo is dead!” Zuka tilted backward on his heel. “Don’t hate me for your death.” Vampire possesses a fit of rage known as ‘vampiric rage’ – that is way beyond ‘wolf rage.’ Vampires’ anger can be triggered in many ways and the result is the destruction of the person that triggered it. No one wants to piss off a vampire. Pissing off a dead vampire is no way to go either.

As soon as they saw June, they stopped talking. “June, this is Vladimir, who will help us,” said Wilona. "Nice to meet you, June Hanson," said the tall, skinny man next to Wilona. Vladimir was very pale skinned with blond hair which was also pale. Even though he was handsome, it was easy to guess that he was a vampire. From his clothes, Vladimir looked different from the vampires that Drake was chasing, he looked neat and classy. Like European royalty. "Nice to meet you too," June said, holding out her hand to shake Vladimir's. The man smiled politely.

I flicked my hand and they half-turned, it was all they could do now. They were on two legs, still partially a wolf though, and had two sets of fangs bared at Sigrid. “What the hell did you do Voldin?” Sigrid’s eyes were wide with fear. “What are these abominations?” “Half-breeds, you know, vampire wolf hybrids.” I chuckled menacingly. “Lovely, aren’t they?” “Not the word I would use.” He gulped and took a step back as they moved forward. “This is, that isn’t possible.”

he interjected with amusement, "how potent a vampire becomes when they imbibe the blood of a werewolf. And I am no ordinary werewolf. I carry royal blood within me." "Now, if we wish to avoid turning this hallowed arena into a battleground, I propose a challenge. A duel to prove who is truly worthy of the throne. Draven, let us engage in a time-honored tradition among our kind: the Vladimir Bloodfang." Dexter proclaimed. The mention of the ancient ritual drew hushed whispers from the spectators, who understood the gravity of such a challenge. In vampire lore, Vladimir Bloodfang is a legendary title bestowed upon the winner of a duel between two vampires vying for the throne. It symbolizes th

Her body is more lean and thin, but I wouldn’t underestimate her. Not only was the dinner situation unexpected, but my wolf paced restlessly in my mind. Alora, my beautiful reddish-brown furred wolf, mumbled under her breath constantly. She mentioned mates but then acted confused and said they weren’t mates. I definitely felt a pull to both of the strangers, but it was weak. I agree with Alora’s confusion. The guy was a vampire and the woman smelled like a human yet not, code for witch in my senses. There is no way I could been mated to either one of them, never mind both!