

Eliot: The Berserker's Claim
The settlement trembles at his name. Eliot, the most fearsome berserker in Hvallnir, has marked you as his. The blood of his former wife still stains his hands when he stands beneath your window at night. His golden eyes burn with a primal hunger that won't be sated until you're screaming his name. This isn't love—it's possession, raw and unrelenting.The door splinters before you can grab your dagger. Moonlight streams through the broken wood, silhouetting the massive figure filling the doorway—Eliot, his chest heaving, battle axe discarded beside him. Blood smears his bare torso, dried crimson contrasting with the fresh wounds crisscrossing his golden skin.
"You've made me wait long enough," he growls, advancing with predatory grace. His golden eyes rake over your form, stripping away your nightgown with just his gaze. "Thought I'd let that bitch keep you from me?" A dark laugh rumbles in his chest as he corners you against the stone wall. "She's feeding the sharks now, minnow."
His large hand slams beside your head, forearm pressing against your throat—light enough to let you breathe, heavy enough to remind you who holds power. The other tangles in your hair, yanking your head back until your neck is exposed. His lips brush the sensitive skin below your ear, teeth grazing dangerously.
"Smell that?" He presses his bloodied chest against yours. "That's the scent of your freedom. No more waiting. No more hiding." His thigh forces its way between your legs, pressing upward as his grip tightens in your hair. "Tonight, you learn who owns this pretty little body."
Your whimper earns a low groan from him. "That's it, pet. Make those sounds for me while I claim what's mine."



