Ours – A Dark Fantasy Romance Read online Loki Renard (Possessive Gods #1)

Categories Genre: Fantasy, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Possessive Gods Series by Loki Renard
Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54861 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 183(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

(Possessive Gods #1) Ours - A Dark Fantasy Romance

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Loki Renard

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B088NMTVD9
Book Information:

Two gods. One girl.

We are the old gods. The forgotten deities. We are fierce, proud, jealous, and possessive. A lying little human tricked her way onto our world. Now she belongs to us.
Books in Series:

Possessive Gods Series by Loki Renard

Books by Author:

Loki Renard



Chapter One

Helios

“Humans are trouble.”

“Humans can be tamed.”

“Only fools believe that.”

“Fools, and gods.”

“This is a mistake.”

I pay no attention to the growling and grumbling emanating from the man shaped embodiment of discontent to my right. Instead, I lift my eyes to the sky, knowing that beyond the blue lies a star field of infinite depth - and knowing that in those depths there is a spark of human innocence headed directly for us.

“Do you smell that?” Ragnar asks the question with a smirk. He is a brute. A relic of an age older than memory. He is also the closest thing I have to a brother and so I tolerate his barbaric behavior.

“Arshje!” His raven caws and swears, the glossy sheen of its black feathers only surpassed by the brightness of its beady little eye. That little creature is out of place in this world of bright skies and white albatross, but it, like Ragnar, ignores that fact and makes itself perfectly at home regardless.

“Get your bird under control.”

“He is under control,” Ragnar snorts. “Good boy, Odvar,” he says, giving the wretched thing a scratch under its chin.

An unpleasant odor floats about us as partially digested deer assaults my nostrils. I would prefer Ragnar not be here, but he has every right to be and trying to keep him away would achieve nothing.

“Contain yourself, Ragnar,” I order, knowing full well the order is hopeless. I have to wait him out, just as I have to wait for the ocean breeze to displace the stench of his godly guts.

One would not know it by the smell, but this is a momentous occasion. For the first time since we came to this distant planet, we are allowing a human being to set foot on these shores.

The ocean stretches out like glass, calmly reflecting the bright blue sky. This is my realm. I control every wisp of cloud, every ocean breeze, every ray of sun. I do it the same way a human might breathe, with the near unintentional action of my mind.

For what seems like an eternity, gods alone have inhabited this world. Those who would try to make landing have been repelled, at first with words of warning, then with force. We are not lonely in our solitude. We are satisfied by it.

"This is a mistake," Ragnar repeats.

“We have not helped humans in a very long time. We owe them this.”

“We owe them nothing. They are beyond our help.”

“This one isn’t. This one is innocent.”

Ragnar’s brows crease as he lets out a growl which makes the horizon darken just a shade. He too has the power to affect Okeanus, though he usually keeps himself under better control.

“You may be King of Okeanus, ruler of the sun, charioteer without compare, but you are getting soft in your old age.”

He’s trying to needle me into conflict. Usually I would be happy to entertain him with a good fight, but today there is something more important.

Several suns ago, I received a missive begging for mercy. Delivered on a scrap of parchment carried in the beak of a dove, were written words of such dire need I could not ignore them.

It was a miracle that I received the words at all. They came from the human realm, from a planet incompatible with our own existence and yet somehow they reached across time and space, using a technology so old I thought the humans had forgotten how to use it at all.

I could not make reply to the message. But it alerted me to the imminent arrival of a package of desperate humanity.

There it is. Finally. A bright little spot in the sky. I close my eyes and allow the barrier between realms to be relaxed enough for the traveler to slide through. This is the barrier we have defended with utmost aggression and remorseless ruthlessness. I have never allowed any being to pass through this way, but this one slips through as if there were no barrier at all. I can feel the human inside, even at this great distance as the bright spark becomes a dark dot descending toward us.

“You’ve undone thousands of years of labor and toil,” Ragnar complains as it slowly makes its way down through the great depths of the sky. “Nothing good comes this way. Only bad things fall from the sky. Flaming arrows. Boiling hot oil. The rain of ash and lava. And whatever this is.”

A parachute deploys and the little package floats down toward us with unerring accuracy, sweeping back and forth like a leaf falling from a tree. It lands at our feet with a soft thud.

“Don’t open it,” Ragnar says.

“There is only a human infant inside, Ragnar. It presents no danger to us.”

“It looks like a large coffin. It brings death.”

“It’s not a coffin. It’s a basket.”

“That is not a basket. It’s made of metal.”

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