Vision of A Viking - Episode 1

Updated: Apr 23


Vision of A Viking is the first book in my Sought & Desired Collection of stand-alone romances.

It has foul language, drug references, and content that could be triggering for some people. It is only recommended for readers 18 and older.

Once per month, a new episode will be released exclusively on my blog, so be sure to subscribe so you never miss an episode!

Copyright © 2022 by Cilla Raven

All rights reserved.


The smokey, clouded ring, again, swirled at the very edges of my periphery, blocking the rest of what might’ve been seen in my field of vision. It narrowed my focus, sending all my attention to the tense battle taking place before me.

I was an outsider there, a ghost that didn’t exist in their world, yet I was able to see their world regardless. It was as if a window across a vast distance had opened its secret chest just so I could glimpse this other place, this distant, unknown land, where its inhabitants were unaware of my existence.

She was moving with urgent purpose, like she always was in battle, ferocity pelted into every move and feature as her body danced gracefully around her attacker. Her bright lavender eyes were fixated on her weapon’s target: the weakest points in the man’s armor, the unprotected valleys between the swaths of his soiled silver chainmail.

His raised eyebrows revealed the fear he must have felt, for he was surely about to lose to this magnificent woman, for at least the dozenth time.

Within two strategic moves she had him on his knees with the sweet side of her blade poised at the cusp of his neck, the rage he felt, roaring out of his throat in a long howl like a man deranged in his defeat.

“Do you yield?” her sweet but winded voice yelled down at him, drawing my eyes up to see the soft smile playing at the edges of her dry lips.

The man nodded, though I hardly noticed the motion, caught up as I was in staring at her.

She let him up, allowing him to live another day relatively unharmed, which is far more than I would’ve allowed, had I been in her position.

But that was her… whatever her name might’ve been.

She was wise, forgiving, and for the most part, peaceful by nature. However, she wasn’t as delicate as that description might imply either.

One can only choose to be peaceful if they are actually capable of great violence, and through the countless dream-journeys I’ve taken to this realm, every night since I was a child, I’ve seen her grow into as strong a leader as I have. I’ve seen her become fierce, remarkably skilled, even brutal when the occasion called for it.

My vision shifted suddenly, the scene changing to what I guessed was later in the day after the morning’s battle, and I was immediately overwhelmed with the sight of so much of her skin on display in the darkened room.

It stole the breath right out of my chest.

She was facing away from me, her bare back arched and writhing sinuously atop a man I couldn’t make out much of aside from his ringed fingers, where they dug deep into the flesh at her hips.

Viking tattoos written in the old tongue depicted a story I couldn’t decipher and decorated their way down her spine in a line, accentuating each of her fluid movements, driving me insane with a primal kind of need.

I’d equate the sight to torture.

Unable to rip her off the ringed man she’d bested that morning to thrust her onto me instead - because I was so utterly not of their realm - I just had to watch as she rode him, seeking her own pleasure in a way that had me as hard as a rock between my sheets, where I lay dreaming.

An amusingly short time later, long before she’d had a chance to find her own release, I could only look on as he threw her to the side, curled in on himself, and came in his own hand in shame.

Her face was filled with disgust as she looked the man over. We both took in the pleading, weakened appearance of his face as he apologized for being unable to satisfy her.

There would’ve been no question as to whether she found satisfaction if it had been I who was sharing her bed instead of him, but as the cards had fallen, I wasn’t there… yet.

Without another word spoken, he grabbed his clothes and made his way out of her dwelling with his proverbial tail tucked between his legs. I couldn’t prevent the chuckle that tore through my throat at such a poor display of virility.

However, when I looked back at the woman, my laughter died on my lips.

It was almost as if she were looking right at me, though she was probably looking at the wall or whatever was behind me.

I had to fight through what I wanted to be true to try to see reason, but as her eyes narrowed and her legs slowly parted wide, her fingers drifting down to her folds before me, I forgot myself completely.

I was transfixed as her eyes met mine and held them. Her fingers deftly and gradually teased all of my senses with delicate flicks of her wrist, while her gaze seemed to travel up and down my form for inspiration.

My hand was around my cock, working me into a frenzy at what my dreams were showing me, and as much as I detested the man that came in his own hand, I knew why he had made that choice, and I wasn’t about to prove to be any better, as a guttural sound fell from my throat to fill the air around me.

“Jarl Hriedar,” the sound of Gylfri’s voice calling out to me through the door woke me from my dream. At that moment, though hard to believe, I might’ve actually hated my most trusted companion.

“Speak!” I called back with my eyes shut tightly, my hand still wrapped around my cock as I chased the fleeting memories with naive vengeance, but upon Gylfri’s reply, any hope I may have had at finding my own release was lost for the moment.

“We need you.”

Gylfri didn’t need to explain any further; I was well aware of our plans to set sail from this conquered land today, and without fail, issues were going to arise that I, Jarl of the people of Stórrheimr, would be asked to fix.

I rose from my bed and set about dressing while my mind reconstructed as much as it could from my vision.

That man had known better than to spill inside her, I thought. She chopped off the last one that tried. That special right… no… gift was being reserved for a suitable contender, the one that she would ultimately marry and name king to help her rule her lands.

She had yet to meet such a man in person, but by the gods, if I had any say in it, I would be the only man staking that claim.

I just had to find her.

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