by Lee Savino
It’s safe. She must see.
For a moment Juliet did nothing but squint into the dark. Then her body stiffened, and I knew what she saw—the magical boundary that ended at the foot of the cliff. The edge of the barrier that enclosed and protected the mountain. On one side, snow bitten rocks and grasses quivered in the wind. On the other, the ground was bare, trampled to mud by foul feet. The monstrous draugr marched along the boundary, at times pausing to press their rotting corpse bodies against the magical barrier and howl. The wind carried their moans away.
“See what we protect you from?” I asked quietly. I didn’t want to scare her, but this was necessary. She had to know.
She gulped. “What are they?”
“The Corpse King’s creatures. He is a mage of old. He seeks spaewives to marry so he can steal their magic.”
She shook her head, still staring at the undead horde.
“This is what we saved you from. This is why we took you from the abbey.”
“Jarl,” Fenrir warned. You’re upsetting her.
She is already upset. She thinks us monsters? Let us show her what monsters truly are.
Her trembling increased, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I leapt down to the path and started climbing again with long strides. “Come. We’ve lingered too long in the cold.”
Juliet
Inside the lodge, the scent of sawdust bit my nose. I sneezed just as Jarl set me down. He held on to me, and I pushed him away, sneezing again. I did not want his help.
“Juliet,” he murmured, but let me stagger away from him. I was no longer freezing—Fenrir’s fur robe had warmed me, and even though the air inside the lodge was not warmer, it was at least sheltered from the wind.
I turned in a slow circle, examining the place they’d brought me. This lodge was not unlike the lodge of the unmated spaewives.
They’d kidnapped me from my home now twice. First from the abbey, then from the lodge where they’d promised I’d be safe. They’d stripped me of everything I’d known.
All I had left were my vows, and even those they would leave in tatters.
I walked further into the lodge, aware of two large shadows stalking me. Jarl and Fenrir. The warriors who’d dragged me from the abbey, my home. Who sheltered and protected me.
I ignored them to explore the place they’d brought me to. There was a fire pit near the entrance. Stacks of wood and a few barrels lined the walls. At the back was a frame for stretching and drying furs.
In the middle of the lodge was a huge bed. Whole trees had been hewn to make it. It was piled high with furs.
I reached out and rubbed the polished wood, then sank my hand in the silky furs.
“Will you take me this night?” My voice was oddly detached. It would take nothing for them to strip me and lay me down on the bed, and claim me as I knew they wanted to.
What was worse, deep down, a part of me wanted them to.
Kyrie eleison. Christos eleison. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.
They’d brought me here to break my vows. If not this night, then soon.
I turned and faced them. They towered over me.
The warriors exchanged a look. I knew they communicated mind to mind, another form of sorcery I should renounce, but I was too tired.
“No,” Jarl answered. “Not this night, but soon.”
“Does he always speak for you?” I baited Fenrir. Perverse of me to pick at the silent Berserker, but perhaps I could turn him against Jarl. I needed every weapon I could gain.
“No,” Fenrir answered, and ambled out of the lodge.
“Where is he going?” I rubbed my arms under the fur Fenrir had given me.
Jarl tugged me close and rubbed my arms over the fur, chafing them until warmth rose. “He goes to fetch wood for a fire. Why did you poke at him? Were you trying to pick a fight?”
I flushed. Was I that transparent?
“Surely you must fight with him sometimes.”
Jarl shrugged. “Often. But he has been my brother for over a hundred years.”
I pulled away. “What is the magic that binds you? Is it evil?”
“You’ve seen us fight.” He crouched in the middle of the lodge to strike a blaze in the sooty pit. His muscles flexed and his eyes blazed gold. “You’ve seen us at rest. What do you think?”
“The abbess would say it is pagan magic.”
“Is all pagan magic evil?” He had a small fire going, and cupped his hands around it to protect it from the draft. His hands and face glowed like a demon’s.
“Yes,” I said, but my tone was unsure.
He looked up at me then. “Always?”
I raised my chin. “That was what I was taught.”
Slowly he rose, unfolding to his great height, towering over me. “And everything you were taught is true?”
With that troubling question, he left the lodge and I was alone. The fire crackled at my feet. Soon Jarl and Fenrir would return with kindling for it, but right now I could sneak out. This might be my only chance.
I ran to the back of the lodge. It was sturdily constructed, the boards so new, the wood hadn’t faded. It was bright and sawdust colored, with a few beads of sap dried mid-drip on the light surface.
There had to be a way out. There—in the corner. A narrow entrance that could easily be covered by a tapestry. A second exit along the back of the lodge.
I raced and would’ve stepped out, but before I could dart through it, a shadow moved in the darkness beyond. I shrank back, hand on my heart. Was it a wild animal moving outside the lodge?
Then the dark shape bent to duck inside the door. When it straightened, I recognized Fenrir. He’d caught me.
Silently, Fenrir moved inside the lodge, crowding me back toward the fire. There was a bundle of kindling under his arm.
I stared at the center of his bare chest. His skin was darker than mine and even Jarl’s, and not only from the sun. He was smooth, too, his muscles sleek without the mat of hair most men had.
I swallowed.
His finger came to my jaw. He traced up, a light touch, but enough to set my nerves simmering. “Do not leave,” he spoke in his deep voice. “It’s not safe, little mother.”
I frowned, still staring at the center of his chest. “Why do you call me that?”
“Little mother? Because you are little.”
“I’m not a mother.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No. I have remained chaste. I haven’t borne a child.”
“Tell that to the younglings in the spaewife lodge. You mother them all.” He moved past me, and knelt to feed the sticks he’d brought to the fire.
I inched away toward the back of the lodge again. I’d missed this chance to escape, but maybe another would come.
Then the front door blasted open and Jarl came in stamping. “Getting colder. Too cold for spring. Another blizzard’s coming. The Corpse King wreaking his will on the weather.”
I tried not to shiver. And failed because Jarl immediately looked to me.
“Come near the fire, Juliet.”
I shook my head, wrapping my arms more tightly around me.
“Do not make me fetch you,” Jarl said. Fenrir’s head dropped to his chest, but he didn’t quite hide his grin.
I shifted on either foot. Jarl dropped the logs he carried and started in my direction, and I scurried to the other side of the fire, hating myself for giving in.
I bared my teeth at Jarl like I was a wolf.
“Is this the way it will be? Do you have to lord your will over me every moment?”
He set his jaw. “I told you I would not let you suffer.”
“I suffer in your presence,” I shot back.
“As long as you are not cold.” He smirked and went back to tending the fire. Soon the flames were higher than my head.
I hovered at the side of the lodge, gritting my teeth against the drafts that went up my dress. The lodge was well-built, but along the wall there were cracks t
hat let in some cold. Nothing a good blaze couldn’t drive out.
I tried to stay away but the warmth and light beckoned me closer. Much as I hated it, Jarl was right. My legs were numb. I could not stay away from their fire forever.
I sat on a fur covered rock set close to the fire. It was strange to sit and rest while there was work to be done, but I was a captive here. I would not stir myself to help lest these warriors think I was content in my captivity.
Fenrir and Jarl moved with purpose, and for the first time I let myself watch them. They both were huge but light on their feet, their movements fluid and graceful as a pair of deer. Or more accurately, a pair of wolves. Jarl spoke the most and I thought of him as their leader, but when they were silent and moving in unspoken concert, they were equal. Fenrir was slightly taller with long dark hair flowing down his back. If he were one of the young women in my charge, I’d make him sit so I could braid it. He was more beautiful, with a narrow face and long dark eye lashes.
Jarl was stockier and broad in the shoulder, though he was tall enough, certainly taller than me. His face was broad, and he’d be handsome if he wasn’t always smirking at me.
Among all the Berserkers, I’d always noticed them. What was amazing was that they’d noticed me.
“Juliet.” Jarl was standing beyond the fire. My gaze snapped to his, and I blushed. He’d caught me looking. No wonder he was smirking.
Maybe all the times I’d snuck a look, I hadn’t hidden it as well as I’d thought.
I wrapped my arms around my legs.
“What is this place?”
“This is the place we built for you.”
“Me? Why?”
“Because you’re our mate.”
“I am no one’s mate.”
“Because of your vows?”
My brow prickled with sweat and I wiped it away. The walk had cooled me, but now the fire made me hot again. Or maybe I was still feverish.
“You can’t eat, you can’t sleep. We’ve watched you suffer all these moons—”
“And what, you thought you’d steal me away and I would fall into your bed and it would all be fine?” I glared and he grinned. The angrier I got, the more I amused him and the more amused he became, the angrier I got.
“You will let us care for you.” Fenrir settled next to me.
“I will?” I turned my glare to him but he remained calm.
“You will,” he stated quietly, and offered me a water skin. I was thirsty, so I let him raise it to my lips and nodded when I’d had enough to drink. Then he opened a pack and handed me a strip of dried meat. I ate and when he leaned closer to me, I didn’t stiffen and pull away. Fenrir’s calm assurance had always steadied me. I didn’t mind that he softened me. I preferred his company to Jarl’s anyway.
“You have no choice,” Jarl said from his place across the fire. Light and shadow played over his face as he watched us.
I stiffened and Fenrir sighed. He offered me more meat and I refused this time. But when I tried to turn away, he surprised me by pulling me into his lap.
“Calm yourself, little mother. Rest against me.”
“I do not want this,” I muttered. I was a grown woman sitting on a man’s lap.
“Really? Then why does your body call to mine?” He reached around to lay a hand at my throat. His fingers half circled my neck and his palm rested over my breastbone. I wriggled and he pressed down lightly. I stop fidgeting. I couldn’t escape, and it felt nice. “You’re fighting it, little one.” His deep voice caressed me. “There is no need.”
Under his palm, my heartbeat fluttered and fought. His scent surrounded me, wild and rich, pine and wood smoke. I relaxed in his lap.
“We’ve never meant you any harm. We would do anything for you,” he whispered into my ear.
“I only wish you to leave me alone,” I said loud enough for Jarl to hear.
Fenrir’s chuckle shook my whole body. “That is not true.”
“It is true,” I protested. His fingers tipped my head to the side and his beard brushed my neck. My body, caged and cradled by his, rose and fell as he breathed in my scent.
“You’ve been in heat all this time. Do not deny it.”
Across the fire, Jarl watched, his eyes dark pits with the occasional flare of gold flame.
My own eyes grew heavy and my body relaxed, lulled by the warmth and comfort of the fire and Fenrir’s lap. It was so nice to rest, cradled in a strong warrior’s arms. Nothing in the world could hurt me here. Nothing.
His hand moved down, his fingertips brushing the tops of my breasts. My heart thudded loud enough to shake the lodge. Fenrir’s lips were at my ear, and I strained to listen, but he said nothing. He nibbled along the outer edge and nipped the lobe. My body responded, tightening muscles deep in my core. I was a bud, tightly furled. A clenched fist, shaking with effort to remain closed.
His tongue touched the sensitive spot behind my ear, and a rush of golden feeling flooded me, rolling up from my core and spreading outwards in waves of tingling pleasure. It did not relieve the ache between my legs, but it edged the pain with sweetness, a promise of what was to come. All I had to do was let my legs fall open and accept what pleasure would come.
Fenrir’s tongue traced along the edge of my ear, teasing each ridge. Each stroke of his tongue reverberated through my body, the golden waves growing in size and intensity.
Then he thrust his tongue into my ear.
I gasped and the sound seemed to echo through the lodge. Across the fire pit, Jarl leaned forward, almost into a crouch. His firelit form was as monstrous as the shadows he cast. Flame and shadow turned him into a demon ready to drag me to the pit of hell.
Fenrir’s beard scraped my neck and ear. “Shhhh, little one.” His large hand reaffirmed its gentle grip on my throat.
And then I realized what I’d been chanting, over and over. Kyrie eleison, Christos eleison. My chest was tight as if a boulder rested on it. Without my bidding, my lips moved to form the well-worn prayer.
Fenrir loosened his grip on me. He eased me up off his lap, slowly, but the blood rushed to my head. I swayed, unable to stand on my own. He steadied me with a hand on either arm.
“Be not afraid,” he murmured. “Juliet, you’re not harmed.”
I jerked away. “That wasn’t me.” I pulled the fur around me tighter, as if it were armor against their gaze. I was shaking, but not with fear or anger. “You’re making me someone I’m not.”
Fenrir stepped close, moving slowly, deliberately. He approached as if I was a frightened rabbit, tensed to run. And maybe I was, but something rooted my feet to the ground.
He stopped when he stood before me, his body close enough for us to touch. One deep breath and my breasts would brush against him.
He lifted his hand, slowly, giving me enough time to pull away. My whole body held its breath, waiting for his touch, but he only stroked a tendril of hair away from my face. “You’re who you’ve always been. You’re the one who’s denied it.”
I opened my mouth, but I had no answer. Just the prayer I’d always prayed.
For years, I’d been praying long and hard. I’d built a wall between me and my desire, each prayer another stone. But tonight, the prayers were not enough to hold back the flood.
One touch from these warriors, and cracks formed in the wall. One kiss, and the dam would burst. All the feeling I had fought against would rush out and carry me away.
I waited with my face upturned, but no kiss came. Instead Fenrir dropped his hand and moved away.
“I’ll take first watch,” he told Jarl. He did not have to speak aloud to say this, so I knew he did so for my benefit. Then Fenrir left and I was alone with Jarl.
“He’s right, you know. There’s no use fighting. You want it too.”
I couldn’t resist Fenrir’s tender touch, but Jarl’s words pricked me, goaded me to fight. I drew the cloak around me like a shield and sneered at him. “I want nothing from you.”
“So you
say.” He stood up and I startled back, but he made no move to approach me. “But is it true?”
I twisted my hands in the fur. “Of course it’s true.” But I was panting again. The fever was rising in me, no longer a golden wave but one tinged red. My core cramped, sending shockwaves of bloodred pain through my gut. I groaned and Jarl took a step toward me. But I stiffened, angling myself away from him, and he stopped.
“Juliet.” He spread his hands to show me he held no weapon. “We mean you no harm.”
“You’ve done enough.” I shook in the grip of another cramp. My body had turned against me and I was helpless in its possession.
“Little one,” his voice cracked. He quivered as if barely holding himself in check.
“Go, please. I can’t do this. I can’t fight you.” I hung my head. I was so tired. Another minute and I’d slump to the floor.
“As you wish,” he murmured. “The bed is there, ready for you.”
It took all I had to drag myself there. The bed was made to hold a Berserker—or two. I had to jump and grab the heavy fur robes, scrambling to hoist myself up. And once up, I sank into the softness, lost in a sea of furs. Vast as the bed was, add two warriors and it’d be cozy and warm.
But I could not think of that.
I burrowed under the silky pile.
“Go to sleep, Juliet,” Jarl said. He sounded tired, too. “We will speak more of this in the morning.”
5
Juliet
I knelt on the flagstones before the altar. The stone bit my knees. I’d been kneeling for hours, but I’d kneel a hundred more. The church sanctuary was dark and stank of mold, but I’d always found comfort here. Before me on her pedestal, a statue of the Virgin Mother regarded me, a placid expression on the stone face. I’d often come to the sanctuary to hide from the cruel nuns and contemptuous friar. I look up at the statue and pretend I had a mother. She would be kind. She would care for me. She would never leave me as my own mother had. In my imagination, my mother’s face looked like the Virgin Mother’s, perfectly serene. Tonight, I imagined a touch of pity as I whispered my prayers.
Kyrieeleisonchristoseleison. Pleasepleaseplease—
