Viscount Novels & Stories

"It would affect me if something happens to you." His touch felt profound since I didn't anticipate it. It was a gentle brush of fingertips along the side of my face, tucking stray locks of hair gingerly behind my ear, "That's a good girl," he whispered in his rich accentuated voice and I fought to suppress the shiver that raced down my spine. Victor snared the tip of my chin between his thumb and forefinger and I felt him distinctly pushing up my glasses so they were back in place again as he commanded, "now, open those pretty eyes, Dea."

She comes silently, only the sound of his heels resonating around us and she puts the cup on his desk with a small sound. "Thank you again, Mrs Rivers." He holds the cup while the lady leaves with a small bow. Yes, Mr Winter is elegant and he finds elegance in everything. Even his specs are elegant and there is silver in his teeth. His teeth are fake. And all this because Mr Winter belongs to a high-class family in England. Oh please, not relative to Queen Elizabeth! He is from some other family… "So…" he takes a sip and puts the cup back before he passes us his attention.

“Ghosts don’t walk into a Luna’s office with clean paperwork and an investor’s charm unless they have someone pulling their strings. And this man is playing one dangerous game that I don’t like. Valerie is already walking on threads, and Maxine is being pushed off a few things in the company. I heard it all from Rosalyn, but nothing makes sense as to where that bastard came from.” Hunter’s mouth twitched, a reluctant agreement. “That’s what worries me. I’ve had men cross-checking every D’Amaris in the northern registry, nothing. Not even a rogue clan by that name. Whoever he is, he’s hiding behind a fabricated identity. And this makes him even more dangerous. If Valerie couldn’t catch his sc

On the night of her engagement, Valentina Rinaldi caught her fiancé cheating on her. What hurt even more was that the woman was her own younger sister. Humiliated in front of the entire family, Valentina impulsively pointed to a strange man and claimed that he was her lover. She only wanted to save her pride. She never expected the stranger to play along with her lie. The man's true identity was Dante Visconti, the mysterious billionaire who had been absent from Milan for years.

Not knowing whether it's day or night because there are no windows or light, I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to ignore the massive hangover that's making my head pound like a drumline. I vaguely remember one of my new pals calling the big man who took me Tony, but I have no idea who he is and I didn't recognize him. As I'm racking my brain, trying to figure the current situation out, I hear footsteps above and then a door opens. A bare light bulb flickers on above and I blink against the brightness. Looking up, I see a man step into view. Someone I instantly recognize. Matthias Volkanov, the ruling don of the Volkanov family.

But modesty is still valued in the human world, so we know to cover up. “Alpha Scarlett.” I hear a familiar voice call out. I turn to see Alpha Connor running towards us. “Alpha Connor. Good to see you. Just wish it could be under better circumstances.” I say to him. Alpha Connor is closer to my parent’s age than to mine but wasn’t mated until he was a bit older, so his pups aren’t yet old enough to take over his pack. He may not be a spring chicken anymore, but he’s still one hell of an Alpha. And he has the handsome good looks of a matinee idol with piercing blue eyes, a strong, square jawline and salt and pepper grey hair.

Visaris’s head snapped toward him with a glare that could turn bones to dust. “I do not recall asking for your input, Dietrich,” he retorted coldly. “My apologies, Your Majesty. Please forgive me for speaking out of turn,” the elderly man murmured, bowing his head. A chill ran down my spine. That look. That authority. Was it fear or reverence that gripped the room? It didn’t matter. Visaris was a king, through and through. No wonder the legends called him the Wolf of the Storm. Despite everything… I didn’t think he was a bad person. He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t heartless. I knew that somehow.

She didn’t want to get caught at it, but he was interesting in the way that he didn’t look like anyone else. She’d found her sister’s mate, Castor, so exotic because of his half-shaved head, beard, and tattoos. He’d looked like a Viking warrior. Agnar was markedly different, though he wore his hard past like a garment. His hair was long on top, but the sides were shaved. He kept his tied in a knot high up on his head and didn’t braid or adorn it in any way. He wore all black, which suited him. It set off his mahogany hair and beard with the few silver strands shot through and his strange, silver eyes.