Viktor Krum Outfit Novels & Stories

Then, I spotted a figure by the edge of the far olive grove. It's Viktor. ​He was dressed in a simple black linen shirt and trousers, standing perfectly still as he looked out at the horizon. As if sensing my gaze, he slowly turned his head and his eyes found mine across the distance. My eyes widened when he slowly took off his shirt.

It was three against one and she had no choice but to automatically join. Getting there they just had to follow the trail of destruction from where it started. There was no point anymore. Just piece of land for miles covered in dirt and tiny pieces of rubble. Snow was dressed in crystal blue armor and his hair was in a braid. A braid meant just for war. Agira appeared beside him dressed in fur. A fur off-shoulder shirt that was shaped like an upside down triangle disappearing into a fur skirt with leggings into fur boots. His hair was left to fly. Victor was in leather not so different from his usual Tempan getup. Trousers, boots and a very long jacket, but his glasses were different. They w

The guard recognized him at first glance. The fragile-looking stable boy glanced around as if checking whether anyone was watching, and when he was certain the coast was clear, he pushed the door open and quickly closed it behind him. Inside Prince Victor's chamber, Victor sat on the bed, his outer layer peeled off and tossed aside. He was in a red inner robe that hung loosely around his waist, along with his waist beads. His chest was bare, a faint veil over his head. He lay on the bed, one hand supporting his head and the other stretched forward, displaying his long, slender arms and fingers. His legs were bent in a kneeling position, and his posture highlighted his form.

With their help, I walked out, the maids carefully lifting and guiding the long, dramatic train of the gown so I could descend the grand staircase without tripping. At the bottom of the stairs, near the grand doors, Vuk waited. He was no longer in his usual attire. He wore flowing ceremonial white robes edged with gold, elegant and regal, the fabric draping over his broad shoulders like moonlight on snow. His hair had been styled — neat yet still wild enough to remind me of the man I fell in love with. In his right hand he held a breathtaking bouquet of white and golden flowers, and atop his head rested a beautiful, matching crown that shimmered with the same living flames as my gown.

They were all waiting, lined up like soldiers. Four people. Two women. Two men. Plus Viktor’s right-hand snake, Aleksander. I’d done my research on him, charming smile, deadly hands. The kind of guy who’d flirt while picking your coffin. And thensugar-coateds. Viktor Dragovic. Standing tall at the top of the steps like some mafia king. Black clothes from head to toe, silver rings on his fingers like trophies from the people he’d destroyed. And those cold gray eyes locked right on me.

Viktor wanted her for goddess knows why, and I knew it was for nothing good. "She will be safe." Bolton reassured me with his eyes. I nodded to him with a smile. He rose and held his glass to speak. I couldn't help but watch his tall muscular body in a black and red uniform. The other warriors wore brown and yellow to represent our pack colors.

Even the teacher stood amazed at the sight his eyes bulging out of his head. A small smile etched upon my face as I gaze upon the so called bad boys Kristrin Slovac, Kyle Bower and the twins. Kristrin the leader as everyone calls him dressed in a black leather jacket, white t-shirt and a black denim jeans, his thick black hair styled to perfection, thick muscles prominent within his clothing and a perfectly chiseled face made him look definitely like a hot bad boy or playboy for that matter. While his best friend Kyle had a dark skin tone, very tall with a slender body that could die for he was more of a supermodel type girls drooled at him.

I bite my lower lip. "Such a pity, I have to do some things, but I really want to spend the morning between your legs," Viktor throws me an apologising look while putting on a pair of boxers, then slides the big doors of the wardrobe, pulling out another classy combo of shirt and dark-coloured slacks. "I still can't understand why are you always wearing a shirt and pants?" I ask while sitting on the bed, watching him dress up. "I'm a businessman, what do you expect me to wear?" he jokes while buttoning up the shirt, hiding his ripped body from my sight.

The song lyrics blasted from his car speakers with a booming beat. Victor's attire also fit the occasion. He had to look the part and be irresistible. He carefully selected what to wear tonight. It was a three-piece ensemble: a maxi-length designer black jacket, black slacks, a black turtleneck sweater, and leather combat boots. Even his jewelry was carefully selected: three pure silver chains and two black pearl hanging earrings. He sprayed his hair with a sensual mousse, slicking the perfectly jet black hair off his face. He doused himself with his most expensive cologne, making sure the scent permeated every single thread of the outfit he wore tonight. He rented a very expensive fast car,

said the healer, uncertain. I entered the room. Viktor lay on a stone stretcher with a deep red piece of cloth surrounding his stomach, full of blood and dyeing its entirety in a frightening color. Thin ice coated it, his magic sustaining the power of his inner frost to ease the pain. He tried sitting up when he saw me, holding in a hiss of pain. His body was covered in sweat and his eyes slightly cloudy, with a line of sweat rolling down his neck. "Athelia," he murmured.