Bound to Loki (Fated to the Gods of Yoria #2) Read Online Veronica Dean

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Fated to the Gods of Yoria Series by Veronica Dean

Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 56639 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 283(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)


I’ve had visions all my life, but I never saw him coming.
I have no one left and I’m on the run.
The punishment for killing a nobleman is worse than death.
I know I shouldn’t return to where it all started, but something is guiding me back.
It seems like the whole world is burning—I along with it.
The gods that rule our planet are becoming more savage by the day.
Everything I have ever loved has been taken away from me, but I sense something is changing.
I see him in my dreams every night. His emerald eyes, his terrifying stature.
I don’t know what he wants with me or if he’s even real, but I hear his call.
Despite my mind telling me to ignore him, my heart knows that I must find him.
When I discover that he is one of the gods, those savage murderers, I try to take his life.
He stops me, overpowers me.
He is too strong, too powerful.
There is something different about him though.
He doesn’t want to hurt me or kill me like all the others.
It’s as if he wants to—protect me.
We both feel our bond, but we can’t explain it.
Two beings from different worlds with a single mission—salvation.
I didn’t think I could love again, but I didn’t know about him.
I can’t change the past, but we can change the future.

Full Book:



Well, looks like today is a bust. I knock my fist three times on the counter, indicating to the barman that I want another akvavit. I hate the stuff, but it’s the fanciest thing on the menu in this shithole and I don’t want to attract anyone unworthy of my time. The barman places a small ram’s horn flute in front of me and I take a sip of the sparkling, slightly green liquid. The herbal burn that it produces in the back of my throat makes me want to gag. I wish I could have a fucking ale, but I know that the moment I order one, I will be approached by the horny-looking peasant at the corner table. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of me all night. Sure, he actually looks kind of cute, but I’m not out for fun tonight. Tonight is all about business.

Just as I’m about to give up, leave the tavern, and face the icy winds outside, a man walks in. His bushy, maroon beard is covered in frost. He swings a cape off his back, revealing a silver chainmail as the flurry of snow covers the front of the tavern. I notice the excellent quality of both his sword and leather boots. I also see a thick golden ring piercing his ear. This is my target.

I immediately nudge off my cloak, revealing my bare shoulders and cleavage to everyone inside. They are only meant for one man though, and no, it isn’t the stout, pasty barman mesmerized by the sight.

I signal for another akvavit just as the new man brushes past. I can feel his gaze on my body from all the way at the opposite end of the bar. He sits down by the roaring fire and chucks a couple of logs on. He warms his hands for a moment, and just as the barman is laying down my cup, he rises and interjects, “A steaming ale and I will pay for the lady’s drink as well.” He takes a seat next to me without so much as a word in my direction. He is acting in that entitled way that only comes from wealth. I know that I have hit the jackpot.

“Thank you—“ I raise my voice at the end encouraging him to fill the space with his name.

“Hauk Svart.”

“Thank you, Hauk,” I say, taking a small sip of the herbal beverage I despise. Although this is my third, I have learned to drink slowly enough to not let it affect my judgement. If I get drunk, I may as well slit my own throat.

We sit side by side, saying nothing as we both sip on our drinks. I wish I was drinking the hot, grainy ale that Hauk ordered. Even with the fire inside, it’s still freezing. I make sure to not so much as glance at him as he pours the drink into his throat, streams of ale running down his beard.

“More!” he commands the barman, slamming the wooden mug on the counter. His deep, hoarse voice booms through the tavern, and at that point I notice the massive stature of this man. My heart starts to race as I realize this bear is not going to be easy to bring down.

The barman brings him another hot ale and he starts downing it once again. His gluttony and messiness repulse me, but I realize that he will respect me more if I have an ale. He wants someone fun and hearty. He’s probably a minor nobleman, maybe risen through the ranks in the military. He looks like a good fighter. His beginnings were probably humble, and he is out here in Bravollr looking to recapture his youth—or some shit like that. I’ve always had a knack for reading people. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been getting these visions from time to time about many different things. I can’t always decipher them in any meaningful way or tell if they are things that have happened, are going to happen, or just fabrications of my mind. My mother used to call me “extra sensitive,” whatever that means. Sometimes, just by touching someone I can get a sense of their whole life story and personality. It’s a gift that certainly comes in handy in my line of business, but it isn’t always completely reliable.