The Berserker Brides Saga

by Lee Savino

  “Hazel.” I sat up. My throat hurt from weeping. “Is that you?”

  “Sage.” She pushed open the door. I threw up my arm to ward off the light flooding in. In the next moment, my friend embraced me.

  “Oh, Sage, I am so glad you are here.”

  “Hazel,” I murmured, as she squeezed me. “I thought you were dead.”

  She drew back, cheeks flushed, hair wild, a few more freckles on her pretty, tanned face. “Almost. But a Berserker rescued me from the Corpse King’s tomb. I hear your escape was just as frightening.”

  I drew back, aching for news of Rolf and Thorbjorn. “What did you hear?”

  “Your mates told the Alphas you were beset by Grey Men once they took you from the abbey. But you sought the help of a witch and hid in another world for a few weeks. Is this true?”

  “It is.”

  “How wondrous. And then you emerged amidst more Grey Men?” She shuddered. Good thing your mates were with you.”

  “They are not my mates.” Thorbjorn’s actions made it clear. They wanted nothing to do with me.

  Hazel raised a brow but didn’t say anything.

  “I—” I swallowed. “I don’t know what they are to me.”

  “Do you not want to mate with them?”

  “I don’t know.” I felt heavy, as if my body had turned to stone. I wished my heart would harden, but it still beat, pain with every pulse.

  Hazel drew herself straight. She looked so different from the girl I remembered from the abbey. Stronger, more confident. Her gaze was straight and clear, her skin glowed. “If you do not choose them, my mate will speak to the Alphas. They will not force you to take them as mates.”

  “It’s not that… I don’t know what to do. I’ve ruined everything. Oh, Hazel.” I crumpled into a ball, crying again. “They hate me.”

  “No, Sage, no.” Hazel put her arms around me, rocking and murmuring. “Why do you say this?”

  I told her what had happened, how I’d risked my life to save them, and how they’d rescue me yet again.

  “They don’t like it when we’re in danger. But, Sage, they have put a claim on you in front of the entire pack. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here, in this lodge they built for their future bride. You’d be in the lodge with the other unmated spaewives.”

  Hope flared up in me, but I shook my head. “Then where are they? Why aren’t they here?”

  “Thorbjorn went to the Alphas to give his report. The Corpse King is able to disrupt the pack bonds. A few of the Berserkers have disappeared and the Alphas cannot find them. Rolf went out to scout for them.” She grimaced. “Knut tells me Thorbjorn asked to be sent out as well.”

  “He did?” My worst fears were confirmed. “They don’t want me,” I whispered, more to myself than Hazel.

  “Oh Sage,” Hazel hugged me again. “I’m sure they want to be here with you. Right now they are needed. Knut says Rolf is the best scout. It makes sense that the Alphas would send him out to help bring the rest of the pack home safely. Many of the others are missing.”

  “I understand.” I shouldn’t be selfish, but I wanted them here. “What of our friends?” I made myself ask, even though my mind was filled only with thoughts of my warriors.

  “Willow is safe. She and her mates will return soon. I don’t know of the rest of our friends. I think Laurel has been claimed.” She paused again. “Knut says a spaewife named Laurel is now mated to two warriors named Ulf and Haakon.”

  I said a silent prayer for Laurel. Although, if her warriors were as kind and gentle as mine were, I might envy her instead.

  Hazel wore a frown of concentration, her head cocked to the side, as if listening to something I could not hear. Her giant mate stood beyond the door, his gaze cast over the field.

  “You and Knut… you can speak mind to mind?” I asked her.

  She blinked and focused. “Yes, the mating bond allows it.”

  “I see.” I felt a pang. Once we’d left the witch’s cabin, I wasn’t able to link to Rolf and Thorbjorn in that way. Another sign that I was unworthy.

  “It’s not easy, in the beginning,” Hazel said, gripping my hand in hers. “I have so much to tell you, and I have only been mated a few days. I can also introduce you to a few more Berserker brides. There are four sisters here who are the first spaewives the Berserkers found.”

  I did not want to hear of happy mating couples while Rolf and Thorbjorn were gone.

  What if they never returned? What if they didn’t want me? What if they were killed? I didn’t know what would be worse.

  My eyes watered again and Hazel jumped up.

  “Enough talk. You need a bath. You will feel better.” She tugged my head. “Come. You wish to look beautiful when your mates return?”

  I held back my tears and gave a nod.

  She kept me busy for the rest of the afternoon, heating water and sponging off.

  She wrinkled her nose at the short dress, now stained and stinking, but I refused to let her throw it out. Rolf and Thorbjorn had given me the dress, and even though I had hated it, it now was the most precious thing I owned. We washed it out and hung it to dry, and I put on a soft yellow garment and sat while Hazel took pains to untangle and braid my hair.

  At her silent signal, her mate brought in more firewood. Knut was a tall, broad shouldered warrior with a rugged face.

  I shrank from him, but he gave me barely a glance, though he took every opportunity to touch his mate, his large hands grazing her hips as they bent their heads together in whispered conversation. He dropped a kiss on her lips and left.

  “Knut will petition the Alphas to learn when your mates will return.”

  “Come, Sage.”

  “I cannot. I must stay here. Thorbjorn ordered it.”

  “Thorbjorn left you in Knut’s care.”

  “He won’t even look at me.”

  “He doesn’t want to insult his fellow Berserkers by speaking to you. He will wait until their claim is on you. And even then, he will only speak to you when they are present.” Hazel rolled her eyes. “With their beast, they’re very protective. Knut doesn’t like me to even look at the other warriors.”

  “I see,” I said, still aching.

  “Come with us. It’ll be all right. I think Knut has a plan.”

  “Hold tight to me.”

  She wore a collar, the silver ring similar to the arm rings I’d seen other Berserkers wear, only she wore it around her neck. Knut kept his fingers clamped around her wrist. Hazel, in turn, gripped my hand tight.

  We approached the giant bonfire, the smoke rising up against the great mountain.

  Warriors moved around it, some wearing weapons and leather armor, others nude and striding to disappear in the trees. Silver flashes of fur winked out from the underbrush, warriors in wolf form, guarding the area.

  As Knut led us closer, many men turned to stare.

  Hazel kept her head bowed, and looked only at me or at Knut. I did the same.

  As we walked past a knot of Berserkers, one tall warrior reached out, his hand almost brushing my sleeve.

  I flinched, and Knut growled. The other warrior dropped his hand. Knut paused to glare at the group of warriors. After a minute, they edged away.

  “It’s all right,” Hazel murmured. “See? Knut will keep you safe. You can trust him.” Her fingers squeezed mine again.

  But when we came to the bonfire, a hulking warrior blocked Knut’s path.

  “Greetings to you and your mate.”

  Knut jerked up his chin and grunted hello.

  “Who is this pretty one? Do you take two spaewives to mate, when the rest of us despair of finding one?”

  “It’s not my fault you weren’t chosen to join the raid on the abbey,” Knut said. “But no, I have only one mate. She is friends with one of the woman from the abbey. Thorbjorn and Rolf have claimed her.”

  The warrior sniffed the wind. “She does not wear their scent. If she belongs to them, why aren’t they here?”
>
  “They are on a mission for the Alphas.”

  The warrior leaned around Knut and caught me staring. “See something you like, little wife? If you want someone to share your bed until your men return, I’m happy to oblige.”

  I averted my gaze and pushed closer to Hazel, who wrapped an arm around me.

  “Leave her alone,” Knut rumbled, and guided Hazel and me to a boulder a few yards away from the crowd. We sat on the rocks and ate the meat Knut brought to us. The crowd around the fire grew. A lovely blonde woman strode from the mountain path, flanked by two giant warriors. She walked with her head high.

  Hazel nudged me. “Two of the Alphas from the lowland pack.”

  “There are two packs?” I whispered back.

  “Yes. The tall blond Viking is their leader. He brought his mate here when the Corpse King was discovered.

  “The Alphas are merging the packs now,” Knut said, leaning down. He didn’t look or speak to me, not exactly, but he spoke aloud when he could’ve used his private mate bond. “With our forces joined, we will better be able to protect the spaewives.”

  We were far away enough, I hoped, they would not see me staring.

  One man had his long hair pulled back in a braid. The other had tattoos covering his arms. But the woman between them drew my eyes.

  She wasn’t very tall, but her presence commanded attention. She gestured, and her mates stepped closer, angling their heads down to listen to her.

  “Who is the woman?”

  “Sabine, their mate. She is a powerful spaewife, almost a witch. She tamed her Alpha, Ragnvald, when he was half mad and kept chained in a cave.”

  “Such is the power of a spaewife,” Knut rumbled above us making me jump. I hadn’t thought he would be listening. “One touch, and the beast sleeps. We know peace we haven’t had for over a hundred years.”

  He rested his hand on the back of Hazel’s neck, a claiming touch, but tender.

  She reached up and covered his large hand with her small one.

  Sabine and her mates moved to the fire, warriors moving to give them the choice place near the blaze. The men milling about gave a them a wide berth, only approaching with heads bowed to petition the alphas. The tattooed Alpha got meat and a horn of mead from a respectful warrior. He offered the horn to the blond Alpha, who accepted and held the carved vessel with long graceful fingers, the fingers of a bard, a highborn lord, not a warrior.

  The tattooed Alpha drew the blonde woman away from the fire, and sat her on a stone close to where we sat. The firelight washed their faces, hers haughty, his intent. She reached for the meat, and he shook his hands. With tight, graceful movements, like a bird, the woman called Sabine sat back with her hands in her lap and waited. He fed her from his hands.

  Her eyes sparked and her cheeks flushed, but she accepted each bite. As she lifted her head, the light glinted from the metal around her neck.

  She wore a collar, much like the one Hazel wore.

  Another couple came through, one bearded warrior striding before, and two behind a woman. It took me a moment to realize they were a unit.

  “Sisters,” Hazel mouthed to me. Here were two sisters, the powerful spaewives who tamed the Berserker beast.

  They looked like normal women.

  A shout went up. I stiffened. The warriors started pounding each other on the back, whooping madly.

  “Leif and Brokk have returned,” Knut reported. “Along with their mate.” He grinned and tugged on Hazel’s hair.

  “What’s her name?”

  “Willow.”

  Hazel and I exchanged glances. Was our friend Willow happy and healthy with her mates?

  “Ulf and Haakon are here too.”

  “Can we see Laurel? And Willow?” I blurted.

  Hazel looked to Knut, her eyes pleading. He set down the horn of mead and drew her between his legs. He traced her brows and serious mouth, and drew her into a kiss.

  I averted my eyes, unwilling to watch their private exchange.

  “Of course,” Knut said. “Of course you will see your friends. You will help each other celebrate your new life as cherished mates.” He spoke with arrogance, but Hazel flushed, a small smile on her face as he kneaded the back of her neck. Her eyes went half lidded and content. Knut chuckled again and kissed her, more a peck on the lips, a mark of ownership, before folding her into his arms. He picked up the horn and tipped it towards her, giving her small sips. Neither smiled, but they gaze at each other, love in their eyes.

  My whole body ached for Rolf and Thorbjorn.

  As the night wore on, the party around the bonfire grew more raucous. A few warriors rolled out some barrels, to great cheers. The mead flowed like water. Two wolves ran from the forest, barking and snapping at one another. They fought while men wagered beside them. The Alphas didn’t stir from their place near Sabine, but neither took their eyes off the fight. When one wolf was declared victor, and the loser lunged for the winner’s neck, the tattooed Alpha was suddenly in the fray. He reached right into the fray, and pulled the loser wolf down, holding him to the ground until the wolf tucked tail and groveled. A soft command from the blond Alpha, and the tattooed Alpha let his captive free. The two wolves slunk away.

  Knut rose to fill his horn. His journey took him by the Alphas, and he stopped for a moment before ambling on.

  “He will learn news of your mates,” Hazel told me. “Have faith.”

  Another fight broke out, this time between two warriors. They shouted and drew weapons. Again the Alphas interfered, though once the warriors tossed aside their axe and knives, they were allowed to fight in what turned into a wrestling match.

  The moon rose. Glinted off Sabine’s blonde hair. She sat in the tattooed alphas lap. When a shout went up, she turned and kissed him.

  Across the way, her sister, Fleur disappeared in a circle of her mates, only to appear again when the large, bald warrior lifted her. He stalked to the line of trees, his arms hoisting her aloft, her arms twined around his neck. They kissed as they walked, and the two other warriors sped alongside them.

  My thighs clenched together. Would they take her as soon as they were out of sight.

  Right in front of us, Sabine straddled her Alpha and kissed him, twining her fingers in his hair.

  Hazel’s breathing sped up. She wasn’t unaffected. Knut’s hands roamed up and down her arms, tweaking her ears, sifting through her hair.

  I squirmed, out of place. Thanks to Knut’s proclamation, I drew a few glances, but no more than stares. Anyone of these warriors would be willing to claim me, but there were none I wanted.

  “Sage,” he said suddenly. “Go to the fire and get more mead.” He offered me the horn. I took it, exchanging a frantic glance with Hazel.

  “Knut,” she began, and he wrapped an arm around her neck, pulling her close.

  “Trust me,” he said, and kissed her, tipping her back, and sliding his hand around her until she moaned.

  I rose, trembling, and walked toward the fire, holding the horn as if it would protect me. When I reached the warrior manning the mead barrels, he jerked around in surprise, but took my proffered horn and filled it, handing it back.

  “Stay and drink it with me, little one,” a warrior called, and that opened the floodgates. Another warrior whistled to get my attention, making me jump.

  “Easy, sweetness,” said the warrior who’d given me the mead. “Don’t show fear.”

  I stiffened my back and marched back to Knut, who was watching me. I kept my eyes on the ground, avoiding eye contact with any of the warriors who hissed to try to get me to look at them. Halfway there, a giant body blocked my way.

  “What’s this? An unclaimed spaewife?”

  “She’s been claimed,” Knut called. “She belongs to Rolf and Thorbjorn.”

  “I don’t see them here. In fact, what’s to stop me from claiming her here and now, in front of the pack?”

  “That would not be wise,” Knut growled, setting Hazel aside and
rising. But he was too far away to stop the warrior from reaching for me.

  “Keep away from her,” a snarl, and my heart leapt. Thorbjorn raced past me to slam into the warrior. A few well placed punches and the warrior was down. Thorbjorn turned to me.

  “Sage.” His hand was half-human, his face monstrous, but I went to him with no hesitation. He swung me up in his arms, and I relaxed.

  “I’ve claimed this woman, along with my warrior brother,” Thorbjorn proclaimed.

  “She doesn’t wear your scent,” the warrior on the ground spat blood.

  “She will after tonight.”

  He strode away to whoops and cheers.

  Hazel’s wide eyed gaze followed us. Knut pulled her close, smiling in satisfaction. He’d planned this—parading me in front of the pack, just to make Rolf and Thorbjorn announce their claim. I didn’t know whether to hate him or be grateful.

  Thorbjorn’s face morphed back to fully human by the time the light of the bonfire faded into the distance. In silence he climbed the mountain to our lodge.

  He set me down, and I clung to him, my teeth chattering. Carefully, he disentangled my fingers from the pelt he wore on his shoulders, and slipped it off, wrapping me in it.

  He moved away long enough to fetch me a cup of water, and held it while I sipped.

  “What were you doing, walking among them alone?”

  “Knut sent me. I did not wish to go.” My legs weakened and I crumpled against him. “I did not wish to—you must believe me—”

  “Hush, hush,” Thorbjorn lifted me and sat on the bed. I curled around his, filling my lungs with his woodsy scent. “I’ll kill Knut,” he muttered against my hair.

  A laugh kicked out of me. “He did it for me. He wanted you to press your claim.” I lifted my head from his shoulder, weary. “I know you don’t want me as a mate.”

  In a thrice, I was on my back, staring up at Thorbjorn. The bearded warrior pinned my arms above my head, running a hand down my body, making me shiver.

  “Do you not wish to be our mate?”

  I bit my lip, my eyes filling. How could I be their mate? I was weak, so weak. Unworthy and broken.

  “Answer me,” he snarled, and I turned my head to the side, unwilling to see his rage directed at me.