The Berserker Brides Saga

by Lee Savino

  I stood by the fire to dry, then dumped the water out of the cup and refilled it.

  “Your turn.” Svein looked amused again, and it heartened me to see more of a smile on his tired face. Heat leapt between his body and mine, and I could not stop blushing. I focused instead on wiping the dirt from his face and neck. At my request he stripped off his jerkin and bent so I could wash his hair.

  “Of all the punishments I could devise, cleaning my dirty self is the worst,” he chuckled.

  Watching the clean water run down his sculpted chest, I could not agree. I did not understand the magic in him, any more than I understood my own dreadful visions. But there was something between us, growing in the most unlikely place, a flower blossoming between a rock.

  I set the cloth aside and splayed a hand against his hard chest. He sucked in a breath but didn’t move away. Leaning forward, I pressed a kiss to his collarbone.

  A howl rang out, faint and faraway, from somewhere deep in the forest.

  I startled back. Svein’s mouth curved ruefully, but he didn’t pursue me.

  “Do you think Dagg is hurt?”

  “It does not matter, little dove. He will not come near the fire.”

  “You must try to find him,” I said, and ripped my sleeve. “Take this. It bears my scent.”

  “I cannot leave you defenseless,” he choked.

  “Take it. Go. I will stay by the fire. As you said, he will not come close. But we must lure him here.”

  “You mean it.”

  “I did not come so that he could die. I came to save you both,” I poked the fire.

  “Very well.” he rose. He looked stronger, his cheeks and eyes less sunken. His face healthy in the firelight. “I will return.” He walked to the edge of the cave and hesitated.

  “I will be safe,” I promised. “I will stay near the fire.”

  His mouth drew up in a half grin.

  “We always knew you would find your voice,” he said. “I am glad to hear it at last.”

  22

  Snow flurries filled the air by the time Svein returned. I’d kept the fire burning high, using the stack of wood he’d left and not venturing one step beyond the cave. As soon as his blond head came into view, I rose to greet him.

  He grinned and raised his arm, showing me the rabbits in his hand.

  “Oh, well done,” I breathed. His grin widened.

  To my surprise, he advanced, locked his free arm around me, and caught my mouth in a kiss. Warmth shot straight to my toes, pooling at my center.

  I broke away to ask, “Dagg?”

  Svein jerked a head back the way he came. “There, by the rock.”

  I had to look hard to distinguish the large dark wolf from the shadows at the edge of the forest. But it was him.

  “He came. And in wolf form. But how—”

  “No time to explain. Storm is coming, worse than the last. We must make ready.”

  Svein set me skinning the rabbits while he fetched more wood. I fed the fire as he built a lean-to to shield the cave from the worst of the wind. Dagg, still in wolf form, hovered just in sight. Pretending to look for kindling, I found the old bones from our last meal, and flung them in his direction. When I turned, Svein was watching me, brows raised. I washed my hands in the snow and refused comment. But I sensed he wasn’t altogether displeased. Dagg was with us, and in wolf form. Whatever grip the Berserker curse had on him had weakened.

  Svein flung a new pelt down and sat. He spitted the rabbits and cooked them. The dark wolf came closer, and we pretended not to notice. When we were done with our meal, I crept to the edge of the cave and held out my hand with the rabbit carcass.

  “Careful,” Svein muttered.

  “It’s Dagg,” I reminded him and myself. Not a strange wolf, not a monster. Dagg looked so dark and serious, but he had been kind and playful too. Not as playful as Svein, who’d often smiled. Tonight, Svein just looked tired.

  I tossed the bones close to the wolf and returned to Svein’s side. I drew the warrior to the bed of pelts and pulled him down, tucking myself under his arm. The wind howled outside, loud as a wolf, but here in the cave we were safe in a pocket of warmth.

  “Sleep,” I told him.

  “I must keep watch.”

  I raised my head to look for the wolf. Sure enough, the dark head was half in darkness, half in firelight as it worried the bone between its paws. He’d come right up to the lean-to entrance, lying between us and the wind. “Dagg will do it.”

  Svein must have been too tired to argue, for he rolled over and folded me in his arms. I tucked my hands under his jerkin, resting my palms against the warm flesh. I wriggled a little to get comfortable and his cock grew against me.

  “Careful,” he half growled.

  I paused, then let my hand wander, finding the gap between his jerkin and breeches. His body tensed.

  “Fern,” Svein rasped in my ear, “you must know what you do to me.”

  I grew bolder, slipping my hand lower until it circled around his cock.

  My cheeks heated but I met his golden gaze.

  “I want—”

  He dipped his head and claimed my mouth. His beard scraped my chin, but his lips were warm, pulling on mine, coaxing and claiming. He grew even larger and harder in my hand.

  I whimpered, shifting my hips. He shucked down his jerkin enough to free himself. “Do what you will, little red. I am yours.”

  I slid my fingers up and down, jacking him slowly. Fluid leaked from the tip. His flesh seemed so red and angry, throbbing under my touch.

  “Does it hurt?”

  Svein buried his face in my hair. “The scent of you is enough to drive a man mad. With desire, not rage.”

  “I want to be with you,” I whispered. “Please let me stay.”

  After a pause, he nodded.

  “If it is safe, you may stay with us.”

  I relaxed against him. The battle was won. Now for the war.

  But first I would please my mate. I licked my palm and closed my slick hand around him again. His ragged breathing guided me, told me where to touch and stroke, when to squeeze and when to be gentle. His shaft seemed to swell in size, and I felt he was close to spending when he stopped me. His mouth found mine and kissed me into a daze. Need bloomed in me, so strong I forgot what I was doing.

  A chuckle broke from him. “You act so shy, but you are fierce as a warrior. A wolf on the hunt.”

  “Are you my prey?”

  “No,” he said against my mouth, and rolled so I was under him, my hand still stroking him slowly. “You are mine.”

  His mouth came to my neck and I gasped, arching up at the sensation shooting through me. With little nips and pulls, he worried my neck until it was aching and tender.

  “When the time comes, we will mark our mate. She will have to be very brave and strong to hold the beast at bay.”

  I bared my teeth at him and he chuckled.

  “But soft, and sweet. She will quicken to our touch,” I sucked in a breath as his own hand went beneath my gown. “Just as we will ache under hers.”

  “Do you ache for me then?”

  “Every night. Every night.”

  He moved and suddenly our bodies were in tune, working together against each other’s hands.

  “Soon I will put my mouth on you, and make you scream into the night. You will find pleasure again and again, until you don’t remember your name.”

  “Svein,” I whispered, jerking a little as sensation flooded through me.

  “That’s it, take your pleasure.”

  He rose up over me, watching me writhe. His fingers kept at it, sending little whips of pleasure through my shaking body. His eyes took in every movement, every moan, every expression.

  “And now,” he drew out his cock and pushed up my gown, “You will wear my scent.”

  He took himself in hand and tugged faster, frowning with concentration. I could only lay there, sleepy and heavy with satisfaction, as he spurted hi
s seed on my thighs, marking me thoroughly.

  “Fern,” he breathed and came back down to lie with me, curling his large body around mine. Within seconds he was asleep.

  Before I let myself do the same, I craned my head. The wolf stood at the entrance of the cave, facing the wind. He would not join us this night as a man.

  But soon, I promised myself. Soon.

  23

  “For years we stayed in Norvergr, fighting for Harald Fairhair. Twenty or thirty summers, I think.” Svein glanced at the wolf who waited outside as if looking for confirmation.

  I sat near the fire, watching the snowfall, half listening to Svein continue his story.

  “Then we boarded dragon-headed ships and crossed the sea. There were some islands the king wanted to conquer. North of here. Do you know why they called the king ‘Fairhair’?”

  “Because he had blond hair?” I guessed.

  “That and he refused to cut it until he conquered all he could. Some promise he made to a lady.”

  “Did he ever cut it?”

  Svein shrugged. “He was the king. He did as he pleased.”

  Outside the lean-to, the wolf slumped in the snow. The blizzard had dumped more onto the already massive drifts. I wished Dagg would come in but as Svein said, he kept his distance from the fire.

  “Did you like fighting for this king?”

  “Wasn’t a matter of like or not. We liked fighting. We were made for it.”

  “The witch made you.” I kept my eye on the wolf, hoping our conversation would not trigger his battle lust.

  “The witch turned us from men into fighting beasts, yes. Eventually we realized it was a curse. By then it was too late. We fought and conquered, year after year, until the madness claimed most of us. Some Berserkers left and followed one called Bodolf, and his son Ragnvald. Svein and I went with Sigmund, now called Samuel.”

  “He’s the Alpha of the mountain.”

  “He is the most powerful of us not because of strength alone, but because his control over the beast. Even then he was almost lost to the rage, if he hadn’t found his mate.”

  “Brenna of the Berserkers.” I’d heard this story, whispered among the spaewives. She was the first of us and ruled as queen along with the Alphas. “So, it is possible for a warrior to be almost lost, and to return to himself.”

  “It is not common, but perhaps it can be done.”

  After a while the snow abated. Svein disappeared for a time and I dozed in the pelts, tossing and turning. Dagg’s shadow fell across the cave mouth, his wolf caught between the wilderness and his place by the fire. He was waiting, always waiting, but I slept as if he guarded my dreams. I hadn’t had a vision since I’d come to them. My dreams were full of shadows, but safe from the specter who’d haunted them before. He could not reach me with Dagg and Svein here. With that comforting thought, I slipped into sleep.

  When I woke, it was snowing again. Svein had returned holding a large stew pot. He filled it with snow and set it on the fire and added wood until the water simmered.

  “There,” he said when I sat up. “You said you wanted to bathe.”

  “Where did you…?” My voice trailed off. He’d gone somewhere and snatched the pot. I didn’t need to know where. Instead, I added some herbs to the fire and asked him to move the pot off the blaze. He raised a brow but did as I bid.

  “A strange broth.”

  “It’s not for eating. I want to wash your hair.” My earlier attempt hadn’t been as thorough as I’d liked.

  He grimaced. “Better to cut it.” He took his knife and sliced through the locks, letting the ragged braid fall.

  “Let me.” I took the knife and evened the ends of the shorn locks. Then I had him bend so I could pour water over his head. I soaped the silky straw-colored tufts, untangling the smaller snarls, rubbing the dirt from his scalp and neck. A few cups of water poured over his head and the water ran clean.

  “Much better,” I murmured but kept playing with his hair. He held still, allowing my touch. Little currents of energy ran up my arms, down my body, as if I submitted to him, rather than the other way around.

  I was close to cupping his face and pleading for a kiss when Svein lifted his head at some soft noise.

  “What is it?”

  “Wait here.” He rose and strode to the mouth of the cave, drawing his weapon.

  I followed until he motioned for me to stop. From what I could see of the dark, snow-filled world, the wolf was gone. “Is it…”

  “Dagg. He is out there.”

  “As a man?” my chest tightened. “We need to invite him in.”

  “No. He’s not... himself.” Not a man then.

  “I want to see him,” I started forward, but Svein caught me.

  “If he was in his right mind, he would not want you to see him.”

  A gust swept by the cave, sending flurries as far as the fire. The wolf had waited for the moment he could stand to come inside. But it had never come. Instead, he’d watched me with his warrior brother, and despaired.

  “Your hair is turning to icicles,” I tugged Svein back, tears in my eyes.

  “It’s not your fault. Fern—”

  “Hold me, please,” I pressed against him, hiding my face in his neck.

  His arms came around me, and he let us both sink down onto the pelts.

  I straddled his lap, sniffling back my tears long enough to dry his hair. Svein studied me, but I kept my gaze averted. Bowing my head, I tugged at the laces of his breeches.

  “Fern—” he caught my hands.

  “Please. I need you.”

  In one movement he laid me back under him.

  “You think I would refuse you?”

  I shook my head. My desire was bittersweet, knowing Dagg was most likely lost, but I still had one warrior with me. I could not deny my craving any more.

  “I’ve dreamt of this every night,” Svein rasped. His hand slipped under my clothes and I arched into his palm. “Do you know what happens to naughty ones who wander into a wolf’s territory?” His eyes glinted.

  I shook my head.

  His lips found my ear. “They get eaten.” Teeth scraped the defenseless spot behind my ear, nipped my soft lobe. I went weak all the way to my knees.

  His mouth blazed a trail downward, finally nuzzling the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

  “Here,” he murmured. His bristled chin scraped me, and I jumped. Pinning me with his hands, he explored further, coming to the soft nest of auburn hair. I held still best I could, frozen like prey before a predator.

  “This is where I feast.” He blew hot breath on my lower lips and goosebumps broke on along my body.

  “Oh, Svein—”

  “That’s it. Call my name, loud as you like.” He lowered his head and fed. Large hands gripped my jerking hips, holding me still. His tongue delved into my secret places, finding spots that sent pleasure surging through me. He ignored my hands tugging at his hair, ignored my gasps and pleas.

  “Ripe as a berry, and so sweet,” he said.

  My body tensed like a drawn bow, quivering with readiness. He stabbed me with his tongue, adding fingers to stretch me. I dug my heels into the ground, no longer seeking to retreat from his voracious mouth. Cries filled my ears, sounds I barely recognized as mine.

  As I came back to myself, my head rolled on the pelt. Wind gusted over my face. Beyond the fire, there were eyes in the darkness, watching.

  Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes, in the face of overwhelming pleasure.

  Svein was finishing, drawing out my pleasure with little cat licks and kisses. A shuddering sigh went through me and he rose up, covering my body with his.

  “Shhhh, little red. It will be all right.” His weight kept me safe and still, absorbing most of the pain beating in my heart.

  It was not only my pain, I must remember that. Svein would bear guilt of not being able to save his warrior brother.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, already halfway un
conscious.

  Svein’s lips brushed mine. “I know. Sleep.”

  I fought to stay awake long enough to ask, “What about you?”

  He kissed me thoroughly. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “Tomorrow I’ll teach you to please me.”

  24

  In the morning, we found footprints in the snow. A man had paced outside our cave and left before dawn. I made Svein take me to where they disappeared in the bracken. I did not see whether they turned back into a wolf’s.

  “It was him. Dagg returned.”

  Svein’s face tightened. “If he turns again into the monster, I must drive him away.”

  “No, don’t.”

  Svein had already turned away, marching back to the cave. I grabbed at his hand, but he didn’t slow.

  “You think you can save us?”

  That stopped me in my tracks. I let Svein’s hand go. “I must.”

  “I should send you back to the pack and the Alphas.”

  “There is nothing for me there.”

  Shaking his head, he grabbed his axe and set a log on its end to split it.

  “If you send me back, I will do everything I can to return. I will not stay where you put me.”

  Stone-faced, the warrior sent his axe slicing through one log. Picking up the two pieces he tossed them to our pile and grabbed another log.

  “Svein, did you hear me? Are you listening?” I stalked around so he could not ignore me.

  He set the axe down and crossed his arms over his chest. “What made me think you were quiet?”

  Smiling, I swayed closer and went on tiptoes to kiss him. I still could not reach him, so he bent to my lips. I did my best to convince him to keep me until he broke away with a sigh.

  “I must hunt.”

  “Will you keep look out for Dagg?”

  He touched a finger to my lips but did not tell me to be quiet. “I expect I’ll find him, if he wants to be found.”

  To my disappointment, he did not find Dagg that day, or the next. The snows stopped for a time, though the world stayed quiet, with all its creatures abed.