Northern Lights

Book Two in the Arctic Love series

Varg doesn’t particularly want to go to Svalbard, but with both his brother and best friend living there, it’s the most sensible place for a holiday. He certainly doesn’t expect Jonathan, though he’s not opposed to spending his holiday madly in lust. There are definitely worse ways to stay warm in the arctic until he goes home…


(c) TT Kove

It was dark outside, like it was the middle of the night. Stepping out of the plane, Varg shuddered as the cold hit him like a bitch-slap to the face. He wrapped his arms around himself as he descended the steep stairs from the plane door to the asphalt. Artificial lights lit up his way as he made for the terminal building, and the full moon in the starlit sky provided light as well.

The cold air burned his nostrils, and his breath made a cloud of white steam that travelled on the wind ahead of him. Stopping, he tilted his head to the side and regarded the darkness away from the airport. He barely saw the water edge of the fjord, but he couldn’t see anything beyond that. It was barely two p.m. and it was pitch black outside. The sky certainly hadn’t been dark and starlit when he’d left Oslo.

Longyearbyen was a four hour flight from Oslo, with a stop in Tromsø, but the sky damn well shouldn’t have become dark so fast. Besides, the clock said two. It was weird. But then he wasn’t in Oslo anymore, he was on Svalbard, and he knew nothing about Svalbard. Why would anyone choose to live in constant darkness? He was certainly starting to rethink his own decision to go on holiday to the arctic island. It wasn’t like he’d even wanted to go there, but as both his twin brother and best mate lived there, it had been the only destination to really choose from.

A cold puff of wind hit the side of his face and he shuddered again as he hurried towards the entrance into the airport. The outside was piss cold. He needed to get inside, find his suitcase and dig out his thick jacket. The airport in Oslo hadn’t been that cold, which was why he’d packed his jacket in the first place, and the plane had been warm. But this … This was the coldest climate he’d ever experienced. Way colder than Oslo and he usually considered Oslo cold.

Stepping into the bright lights of the airport, his eyes burned for a second and he blinked until he got his surroundings into focus. He looked around for his best mate, but didn’t spot Andreas’ blond head anywhere. Well, that was nice. His best mate had invited him to visit and he wasn’t even here to pick Varg up.

Andreas could be waiting somewhere else in the airport though. But Varg had never been there before, and Andreas knew that, so he should’ve been right there to greet him.

Walking over to the luggage reclaim, which had already started up, he hoisted his suitcase down on the floor and pulled it with him further into the airport. Still not spotting his best mate anywhere, Varg gave an exasperated sigh and pulled his suitcase with him to the cafeteria.

Setting it by a free table, he went over to the counter and bought various chocolates and a cup of cocoa. One could easily see what kind of flavour he preferred, he thought to himself with a wry grin.

After paying for it he went back to his table, which had a full view of the whole cafeteria, as well as the luggage reclaim, information desk and the front doors. If Andreas came through them, he’d see him. He leaned back, relaxed, and started munching on one of the chocolates.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that Andreas and Frey lived there, he would’ve never put his foot up in Svalbard. It was too cold, too dark, too depressing. Varg preferred to go on holiday somewhere warm. He didn’t like the cold at all.


Varg spun around on his chair as a hand tapped on his shoulder, breaking him out of his thoughts.

A tall, lean, broad-shouldered bloke with black hair, which curled in the nape of his neck and around his ears, and cold, ice-blue eyes, who was definitely not Andreas, stood in front of him. He wore a black and white snowsuit, and it clung to his body rather nicely, and heavy boots. Damn. Varg’s cock tightened. He kept his face void of any emotion though, not wanting the handsome man to see he’d just fallen instantly in lust with him. Why does this happen every time I see a hot bloke? It’s like I’m constantly walking around with a hard on.

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