by Lee Savino
“Yes, that would be good.” I said in a shaky rush of breath.
“Right. Then me first.” Lars said, removing his helm.
“What?” Magnus said. “Why you?”
“Because I am the youngest. And of all of us, I have had the pleasure of making our lady laugh.”
His bold proclamation brought an easy smile to my lips.
“He’s right,” Ivar said.
“Then it’s settled,” Tristan said. “Where will be our quarters?” I pointed to a storeroom and showed them the shelves of extra furs. We would have to find a larger sleeping chamber. Later. After I figured out how to live with four giant warrior men.
How would I feed them all? Where would we sleep?
“Thank you, lady,” Tristan murmured.
“Thank you,” Ivar and Magnus added, bowing to me. Tears pricked my eyes. I’d found these men to almost just lose them. Even now, we had dangers to face. Who knew what the future held.
“Don’t cry, Yseult,” Lars took my hand and kissed it, ever the charmer. “We have but one night, but after your time with my warrior brothers, I will return.”
“You will not have her the whole night,” Magnus growled. “I need little sleep.”
“It will not take me a night to spoil her for all others.”
Barking a laugh, Magnus went into the storeroom. I caught Ivar winking at me just before Tristan shut the door.
“Finally,” Lars turned with a grin. He’d stripped off his armor and was tying back his hair. “It’s only us.”
“Yes.”
“You’re shaking.” Frowning, he led me to the fire.
“It’s not that.” I rubbed my face. “I’m not cold.”
“Lady, you have no need to fear us.”
“I know that. I know. I just…”
He hushed me and pulled me down to the rug before the hearth, drawing a robe over us. “Sleep, lady. I will watch over you.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I whispered. “I am used to guarding my back. I am used to being alone.”
He spent some time stroking the hair from my face. “Perhaps you have been alone too long.”
“I—”
But he stopped me with a kiss, gentle and chaste, and turned me on my side before him, one strong arm pulling my back to his front. “Sleep now.”
Mercifully, I did.
But then I dreamed. There the Corpse King chased me, his skeletal hands grasping. Round and round we went, as the Berserkers lay in a field of blood.
“Yseult, Yseult,” someone shook me. I came awake with a cry.
The fire had burned down to embers. Ivar leaned over me, his face somber. He cradled my head and set a cup to my lips. After I drank, he drew me into his arms, and kept me there while I pressed my face to his neck and cried.
“Sweet Yseult,” he stroked my back. “Tell me your dreams.”
I shuddered. I hadn’t cried so hard since my training as a novice. “I dreamed your deaths.” I couldn’t say more than that; it was too awful. Ivar nodded as if he knew.
“I wish to bathe. Will you show me how?”
At last, something I could do. Taking a torch, I led him through the cave to a special place I’d found where hot springs bubbled from the Earth.
“This is why I made my home here.”
“You lived here alone?”
“Since I left the novices and made my own path as a witch.”
“I see.” He crouched and tested the water, then stripped off his clothes. I caught my breath at the rippling muscles of his back and swayed on my feet as he turned and came toward me. He didn’t seem to notice my shock and desire. “I’m going to wash you now.” He waited for me to nod, then helped me off with my shift and led me by the hand into the water.
There I stood shyly, head bowed, as he ran a cloth all over my body. He took his time.
“Ivar,” I pressed myself against him.
Dipping his head, his mouth caught mine. My arms twined around his shoulders and we drank deeply of each other until someone cleared his throat nearby.
I stepped back, startled, to see Tristan waiting on the edge of the pool.
With a rueful grin, Ivar stepped back. “My time is over.”
A sigh escaped me as the warrior strode away. Drops of water beaded on his bronze skin, rolling down his back to the dimples between his hips, down the cleft of his ass.
Tristan cleared his throat again. “Feeling better?”
“I am. I recommend a bath.”
“Hmmm.” He started stripping off his clothes. “The last time I bathed, I was interrupted.”
“Such rudeness. I can’t imagine.”
“Yes, well, the sight of a pretty maid
“A maid?” I raised a brow. “Not a lady?”
“Both.”
I pushed him away. “We have things to discuss.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.” I turned from him. “This morning I woke alone.”
“Lady—”
“You left me in a guardroom!”
“It was not our intention. We planned to start the fight as a diversion and return to smuggle you to safety. Gaul was ready for us, and, in the heat of battle, we left you in the only place I thought you’d be safe. I knew our fight was futile. I hoped we might weaken the mage, so you could escape.”
“You could’ve died. I didn’t ask you to do that.”
His arms came around me, “Yseult—”
“No,” I tried to wrench away and could not. I clawed at his hold.
“I am sorry we left you. It was my decision, and mine alone.”
“You took the decision from me.” He treated me like I was weak.
His lips touched my ear. “How can I atone?”
“I don’t know.” My chest heaved against the pain squeezing my heart. “I don’t know.”
His lips touched my shoulder; he nuzzled my hair.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
Gently he turned me to face him, but I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I can’t... be with you.” I waved my hand in the direction of the cave.
“Be ours?”
“Be weak.”
“Yseult.” He lifted my wet hair away from my face. “You are not weak. You are not frail. You left your home. You faced the mage. Are you truly afraid of this?” He tipped up my chin. “Of us?”
“I don’t... I should not fear anything. I haven’t felt fear like this since my training as a novice.”
He cocked his head, his large hand sliding under my hair to my nape.
“I am a witch no longer,” I whispered. “Not in the way I was. I am…”
“Weak?”
“Powerless.”
“To us you wield great power.”
“You don’t understand. All my life I trained to be a witch, and now I am one no longer. I am only a spaewife.”
“Only?” His fingers flexed against my neck. “You came to us, barefoot, clad only in a shift. You were our captive, and even then, you saved us.”
“I am weak,” I whispered.
“Strong enough to be our mate. Strong enough to love. If you are willing.”
His fingers withdrew. He backed away, and I almost cried out and followed him. “We will not force this. We will let you think on it.”
“Tristan,” I called. He paused in the entrance. “Please... don’t leave.”
“We made our choice. We will wait for you to make yours.”
I wish I could say I followed him right away, pulled him into my arms and pledged myself right there. The truth is, I took my time, pacing on the edge of the water, then standing still. My reflection had not changed. I still looked like a maid in the blush of youth. I could return to the witch’s path, redo my training, become powerful again. Fight the mage, commune with my sisters and live... alone. Or I could remain a spaewife.
Or perhaps, I could do both. I had always walked my own path, and now, I had four men to help me.
A deep breath, and I
willed myself to leave the pools. My shift clinging to my damp body, my feet bare, my wet hair stringing about my face, I padded back to the cave. Echoes of men’s voices greeted me. They’d stoked up the fire and lounged around the hearth.
As soon as I stepped into the room, all eyes came to me, and I halted. Magnus sprawled on the rug, Ivar seated close to the fire, using a stick to poke some roast meat. Lars idly played with one of his braids. Tristan leaned on the hearth stone, his face half in shadow, half in light. All waiting, it seemed, for me.
Four men. Goddess, would I be enough?
Magnus moved first. “Lady,” he breathed. I stood like a statue as he came forward and knelt before me. Mine to command, and me as nervous as a virgin, as a bride on her wedding night. Which was... laughable.
I was Yseult. Witch, spaewife, woman. No man made me nervous—unless I allowed it.
I smiled down at the great warrior. He returned my grin, and barely waited for me to shake back my hair before lifting the hem of my shift. He pressed his face against my belly, turning this way and that before sliding lower, breathing in my scent.
He lifted me easily, carrying me to the couch. I reached for him, but instead of falling between my legs and rutting, he parted my knees and licked my center. My body arched, my mouth falling open to be greeted by Lars’ kiss. He and Ivar took turns claiming my mouth as Magnus worked below, their hands stroking my breasts until I cried out. The two on either side fell away as Magnus reared up over me, setting his cock into my sopping center, and slamming into me. I writhed in the throes of pleasure as he worked his hips, deep thrusts that sent me to the edge of ecstasy. When he was done he pulled out and Ivar and Lars took me together, hard and fast, one behind and one before. Lars cradled my chin as I licked at his cock.
They spent themselves together, and I lay over the edge of the couch, panting. Tristan still waited by the hearth.
Coming to my hands and knees, I crawled across the rug to him. Kneeling at his feet, I clutched his legs and tipped my head up, arching my back, and making my flesh an offering.
“Take me,” I breathed. “I am yours to command.”
He reached down and touched my cheek. I closed my eyes and rubbed my face against his hand, my fingers busy parting his clothes. My fingers circled his thick cock, my mouth watering. I waited for him to press me forward then licked and sucked to my heart’s content, my body aching to please him.
All too soon he cupped the back of my head and drew me up, kissing my forehead and hitching me against him and sliding home. I wrapped my legs tight around his hips, keeping him close as he moved inside me. His large hands gripped my bottom and I held him tight, my arms about his shoulders and my inner muscles gripping his cock. He was mine, I would keep him. I would never let him go.
He shuddered out his pleasure and laid me on the couch. I laughed, and kissed him, pulled Ivar close and kissed him too.
Lars joined me on the couch, nuzzling me.
“Keep us, Yseult,” he mumbled. “We will make you so happy. We will protect and cherish you always. Do not send us away.”
“Never,” I whispered fiercely. “You are my heart.” And I laughed and laughed as he kissed me with his ticklish blond beard.
Tristan came with a wet cloth and I grinned at him as he cleaned me.
“What now?” I asked, feeling rested and more refreshed than I had in an age.
“Whatever we want.” Lars cupped my left breast and Ivar reached down from his perch on the arm of the couch to play with my right.
Magnus stood before me, staring at my bare form and absently tugging on his cock. His brow wrinkled.
“Wait,” he said. “When is it my turn to have her alone?”
The End
The Berserker Saga
Sold to the Berserkers - – Brenna, Samuel & Daegan
Mated to the Berserkers - – Brenna, Samuel & Daegan
Bred by the Berserkers (FREE novella only available at www.leesavino.com) - – Brenna, Samuel & Daegan
Taken by the Berserkers – Sabine, Ragnvald & Maddox
Given to the Berserkers – Muriel and her mates
Claimed by the Berserkers – Fleur and her mates
Berserker Brides
Rescued by the Berserker – Hazel & Knut
Captured by the Berserkers – Willow, Leif & Brokk
Kidnapped by the Berserkers – Sage, Thorbjorn & Rolf
Bonded to the Berserkers – Laurel, Haakon & Ulf
Berserker Babies – the sisters Brenna, Sabine, Muriel, Fleur and their mates
Night of the Berserkers – the witch Yseult’s story
Owned by the Berserkers – Fern, Dagg & Svein
Tamed by the Berserkers — Sorrel, Thorsteinn & Vik
Mastered by the Berserkers - coming in 2020, Juliet and her mates
Berserker Warriors
Ægir (formerly titled The Sea Wolf)
Siebold - coming in 2020
Owned by the Berserkers
My life changed the night the Berserkers took me. Dagg and Svein cared for me like no other--until the Corpse King attacked and the battle rage took their minds.
Now I'm alone. My mates are lost to madness, and my visions are growing worse. My nightmares, my only companions--unless I can defy the pack and save my warriors. I must trek into the wilderness and claim them for my own--or die in the attempt.
Author's Note: Owned by the Berserkers is a standalone, full-length MFM ménage romance starring two huge, dominant warriors who are all about their woman. Read the whole best-selling Berserker saga to see what readers are raving about…
***
1
Fern
Cold. Fingers of ice digging into my bones cold. I ran through the darkness, dodging shadows, my only companion my pounding heart and clutching fear.
A shape loomed ahead, blocking my path. Clad in rags and white mist, the wraith extended its skeleton hand—
“Fern. Fern, wake up.”
I gasped, clutching at air and shooting up, nearly bashing into the person leaning over me. Juliet's worried face hovered close. “Shhh, Fern, you’re all right. We’re all right. We’re safe.”
The lodge was dark but warm, the fire embers glowing on the hearth. The shadows along the roughhewn logs were friendly. Slowly, I relaxed. My back ached, my muscles cramping as if I had been running for my life.
“Here,” Juliet offered me a cup, and I wet my lips a few times before I let the liquid slide down my knotted throat.
“Bad dream?” Juliet stroked my back. Even though she was only a few years older than me and the rest of the orphans, she cared for us like a mother.
I nodded and didn’t say more.
“You seem to have a lot of them,” she murmured, but didn’t pry, and I was grateful. I’d had nightmares since I could remember. At least this one had come at night and stolen only my sleep.
Juliet’s touch and the water helped calm my pounding heart. All around us, the other girls lay sleeping. As one of the older ones, more woman than child, I had my own pallet. It was colder than sharing a bed with my orphan sisters, but at least my night terrors wouldn’t wake them.
“Let me know if you ever want to talk about them,” Juliet said before giving me a squeeze and slipping back to the big bed she shared with the three smallest girls.
Her kind touch lingered as I lay back down, but I swallowed despair. My dreams were my own, I could never tell her or any other. They were too real. Even now, when I closed my eyes, I had to fight not to go back into the darkness of the dream, where the skeletal hand still reached for me.
“I’m safe,” I repeated. “I’m safe.”
I lay awake until morning, which came all too soon. The lodge filled with the chatter of the young women and girls. Since being taken from the abbey by the Berserkers, we lived together in a lodge, guarded carefully by the great warriors.
“Fern, You’re so quiet today,” chirped Violet.
“She’s always quiet,” Meadow smile
d at me. I tried to smile in return but couldn't. My jaw ached from gritting my teeth to keep from shouting of all the horror I had seen. Since rising, the dream had beat at me, threatening to burst from my lips. But I didn’t dare speak.
I’d had dreams, visions, since I was very young. My mother died soon after I was born, my father was unknown, but a family had taken me into their care. At least, until I shook with the Sight and told them what I’d seen. Then they’d called me a demon child and left me on the stoop of the orphanage. I learned quickly there not to speak of what I saw. Not to speak at all.
But my dreams were becoming worse. How long could I hide them? How long before they came to me in the day?
I jumped when Juliet touched my arm. “You all right, Fern?” and continued when I nodded, “Could you go to Laurel’s lodge and bring back bread? I’d go, but the little ones will want to come, and it’s too cold.”
I nodded again. The walk would do me good.
“Be sure to warm up well by her fire,” Juliet produced a basket and cloak, and walked me to the lodge entrance. “There’s no snow today, but it is very cold.”
I opened the door and froze at the piercing howl that greeted me.
“What was that?” Juliet gasped, shivering. She shrank back as one of our guards came inside the door.
“It’s all right,” the Berserker warrior said in his deep, rasping voice. He loomed over us, bigger than any man we’d ever seen, but his face was kind. “It’s just a wolf that lives in the canyon.”
“That was no wolf,” Juliet said sharply. My eyes went wide. I’d never heard anyone speak so boldly to a Berserker.
The warrior just smiled. “You’re right. There are two beasts down there who were once men, but no longer. Now they haunt the woods below.”
I sucked in a breath as the howling started again. This time a second voice joined the first, the two twining together to make a melancholy tune.
“Have no fear, little one,” the warrior murmured to Juliet. “You’re safe with us.”
