by Lee Savino
“Or went mad.” I shuddered.
“No more talk of this.” He stepped back from the blaze, dusting his hands. “Come to me, lass.”
I scuttled closer to him and he placed me in front of the fire with my back to his bare chest. His large hands skimmed down my arms. “By the moon, you’re freezing. Where is the pelt I gave you?”
“I lost it…”
“I will get you another.” He hugged me. Between his large body and the fire, the chill ebbed from my bones.
I craned my head to look at him. “The wolf…is it one of your forms?”
“Yes.” He paused for a long while as if reluctant to say more. “There are three. The wolf, the man, and the beast. You have seen the latter two.”
Once I was warm, he went and found a blanket and shook it out, and laid it in front of the fire. I sat at his direction, setting the witch’s staff aside and curling up with my chin on my knees. The fire crackled happily, a reassuring sound after the past two days filled with horrors. It was almost enough to make me forget what manner of warrior sat next to me.
Almost.
Knut crouched close, feeding the fire.
His hands were a normal man’s, large and rough.
A witch’s curse, he’d said.
“You fought well,” I said, “against the Grey Men. Especially when you…turned into the beast.”
He grunted and checked the pouch at his side for more dried meat, turned out a few strips, and pressed them into my hand. “I’ll go hunting soon,” he muttered.
I caught his hand and raised my voice so I would not be ignored. “This last time you fought, you were outnumbered. Why did you not turn into the beast?”
His shoulders rose and fell. At his silence, I knew I’d pushed too hard.
“Because, Hazel,” he rose and towered over me. “Each time I allow the beast to take over, I lose a little more control. The beast will win out one day. Unless—” he paused, turning his head to gaze at the flickering fire. He had a handsome face. Cupped in the glow of the flames, even the lines on his forehead and around his eyes added to his rugged beauty.
“Unless?”
His eyes turned to me, glowed gold.
“Unless I find a mate. A woman with special powers, gifted by the goddess, who can cure my tainted soul.”
I gulped, shrinking a little in his shadow. “How can you find such a woman?”
The corners of his lips quirked. “I already have.”
Knut
The woman shook like a leaf on the breeze. Her drying hair was soft as corn silk, her eyes wide and fawn colored. Her pulse fluttered in her throat and my hand itched to cover it.
I needed to remember to be gentle, to put her at ease. I was used to barking commands and leading men, not saying sweet things to a woman.
I sat, keeping distance between us, so as not to tempt the beast. My lungs filled with her lovely scent. My ears picked up the rapid patter of her heart.
“Tell me of your home at the abbey. Your childhood.” I softened my tone. “I wish to know everything about my mate. One day, we will be able to share thoughts, and you will show me your memories.”
Her eyes widened.
“That is the work of the mating bond. It will manifest between us naturally.”
Hazel wet her lips. Nervousness tinged her scent. No doubt she was afraid of being joined to a warrior suffering under a curse, one she had just met.
The more I thought about it, the more the beast inside me raged to take her, claim her. Make her my own. I would bind her to me with an unbreakable bond, a link between our very souls.
I shifted closer and ran my hand down the fall of her hair. With a small sigh, she leaned into my touch. The fear in her scent eased and the beast backed down. “For now, you will tell me about your life.”
The press of her lips told me she wanted to be stubborn and resist, but she obeyed.
“I lived all my life in an orphanage attached to an abbey. The nuns take in orphans from the surrounding villages—but only girls. I have many friends—closer than sisters. There are a few my age: Sage and Sorrel, Willow, Fern, Angelica and Rosalind. They will be worried that I disappeared.” She gnawed her lips again. “I wonder what the friar will tell them.”
“The friar is the one who sold you?”
“Yes. He oversees the grounds and all of us. The nuns keep us busy with gardening and weaving. The friar sells our cloth, herbs and honey, and sets the money for our dowry, so he can find us good husbands. At least, that’s what he told us.” She frowned, a line appearing on her otherwise smooth forehead. “One of my friends disappeared overnight. Sari was going to run away with her lover, but,” Hazel shook her head, “Later in the village, I saw the lad mourning her. Sari never got free of the abbey. The friar found out she was leaving and to the Corpse King.”
“How do you know?”
Hazel looked away. “I saw her body in the cave. It was shrunken and dried, like an old husk. But it was her. Oh, Sari,” She pressed her fist to her mouth as if trying to hold back my tears. They came anyway and I could hold back from touching her no longer.
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her shaking body as she wept.
“Hush, sweet one.”
“It’s my fault,” she wailed. “I knew the friar was taking the money and hoarding it for himself. I saw him counting it one day and the greed on his face. Other girls had disappeared before. The friar told us they went to good husbands. But we never saw them again, even when they promised they would visit. I suspected, but I did not warn the others. Not until it was too late. The friar caught me, locked me in the room with Fleur, and then gave us to the Grey Men. They took us to the Corpse King’s cave and that is where you found me.”
“How did you escape the cave?”
“Fleur—she has powers. She somehow called the witch’s staff to her.”
“The one you now possess?”
“Yes,” she reached for it, and I allowed her to grasp it and set it between us. “The friar broke it over his knee, but it magically appeared at our time of need.”
“Fleur was rescued holding a piece,” I told her what I’d learned from the pack bonds, before the storm and distance disrupted them. “She nearly killed the Corpse King with it. He lives,” I cautioned as hope dawned on her face, “but he is weakened. You were meant to be his bride.”
“What is he?”
“An ancient evil, a king who committed acts of atrocity I dare not speak of.” I gathered her close, gratified when she pressed against me. Her body responded to me, even if she was still deciding if I could be trusted. “The mage is everything unnatural and his servants belong amongst the dead.”
“Necromancy?”
I nodded. “It takes great sacrifice to sustain such awful power. Human sacrifice.”
“He killed Sari. Who knows how many of my abbey sisters also died to feed him.”
I did not tell her what my warriors had reported: a pile of bones stacked outside the cave.
Instead I cupped her chin. “Do not think of it, Hazel. You escaped and when we return to the mountain, we will find a way to protect all of your sisters.”
“Thank you,” and her small smile lit my heart like sunlight breaking through the grim day.
Hazel
Knut’s large hand palmed my head, dropped to my nape and gave it a squeeze. My body had relaxed in the warmth of his regard and the fire, but now my heartbeat picked up. His thumb stroked over the sensitive skin of my neck and tingles spread through my body, focusing on the points of my nipples and the valley between my thighs.
His eyes, which had dimmed as I’d shared my tale, flared brighter. He took his hand away.
“If I tell you to stay here, will you obey?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You will not like the consequences if you don’t.” He reminded me of the punishment he’d dealt earlier, and the one he’d promised. Fire leaped into my blood at his stern look.
As soon a
s he shut the door, I rose and went to the window, wanting to see what form he would take next. A large silver wolf ran across the yard, tail brushing over dead stalks in the ill-tended garden as it trotted away.
I busied myself exploring the hut. I found a broom in the corner, and poked at the cobwebs, cleaning up. A dank back room held mostly molded blankets, but to my delight, I found a pair of shoes and an overdress, folded in a chest of cedar. They were finely stitched—part of a bride’s dowry.
I took them, saying a prayer for the missing people who’d left their valuables behind.
While I waited for Knut, I stripped off my shift and washed it as best I could in the bucket, setting it near the fire to dry. After adding a sprig of dried lavender to the water I’d set aside, I washed myself. My body, strong from hours of abbey chores, had changed with my recent adventure. My limbs and stomach had hardened, toned from running and little food, but my breasts were larger, almost swollen, as were the folds between my legs. I touched them carefully. Once a month, around the full moon, I suffered intense heat, a fever that left me gasping with need. Was it possible that my body was responding to the warrior?
I poked at my shift, willing it to dry faster so I could cover my traitorous body. Never mind that the fabric was so thin, it barely hid my responses. Never mind that he seemed to be able to scent my arousal and speak into my very thoughts.
I wanted to ask him why I heard his voice in my head, but didn’t want him to think me mad.
A thump at the door had me whirling. A shriek died on my lips as the large wolf trotted in, a dead pheasant in its jaws. It stopped dead at the sight of me. It huffed, laid down the game, and trotted back out. The door swung shut.
I threw on my shift, ignoring the damp patches. Of course, the Berserker was going to return and see me. Shame burned in my cheeks as I realized a part of me wanted him to.
Once dressed, I hastened to the door and opened it to find Knut standing on the stoop.
It was my turn to stare. The warrior’s broad, muscled form was bare except for a scrap of leather loincloth slung around his hips.
He faced west, watching the sunset. The storm had died, but the clouds remained, so the sinking sun was only a few red lines in a grey sky.
When he turned, he had a large white pelt in his hands. Something in me quivered as he approached and silently set the fur on my shoulders, tucking it snug around me.
My senses blazed to life. I smelled the lavender from my bath, the heavy rain waiting in the clouds, the earthy pine scent that clung to the pelt.
His large thumb brushed my cheek, dusting away a tiny flower that’d clung to my cheek. Drawing in a deep breath, he let his forehead sink to mine as his hand settled on my nape.
“Can you cook the pheasant?”
“Yes,” I breathed.
His fingers flexed, squeezing the fragile bone, holding me still as his mouth touched mine. Desire flared in me, unfurling, a weight and a lightness both at my core.
I gasped and retreated. His eyes burned bright, but he let me go. I stepped back into the hut, and closed the door in his face, leaning against it for support. My hand trembled as I checked my breasts, my midriff, the tops of my thighs. I wasn’t naked but I’d been stripped bare by that golden gaze. Even now heat pooled in my secret places, making me press my legs together against the ache.
What was happening to me?
“Hazel,” Knut called after a moment.
Checking my flushed cheeks one last time, I let the door creak open between us.
Knut had pulled on his breeches and boots. I’d found a man’s shirt among the crofter’s things, but now I didn’t want to tell him. The expanse of his muscled chest left me breathless.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened,” my voice shook.
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “No matter.” He had to stoop under the door frame. I backed away to make room, but it didn’t help. His massive form dominated the space. He took one look at the freshly swept and cobweb free space, and smiled.
I couldn’t help warming at the sign of his pleasure.
He passed me to pick up the pheasant. I shook myself and went to focus on my duty.
When the meat was roasted, Knut and I sat at the table together. The warrior gave me the larger portion and ate only with his left hand. His right found mine and held it under the table, the entire meal. I shifted once to strip tender meat off the bone and he let me go. As soon as I was done, though, he claimed my hand, first sucking the grease from my fingers and then resting both ours on his leg, his own fingers clamped around my wrist.
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. As he finished his meal, his thumb played over the sensitive skin. Wet heat kindled between my legs and I started shifting to ease the tingles. Knut didn’t take his eyes off me, but I kept mine on my meal while my cheeks burned and burned.
“Finished?” he asked when my plate was a pile of bones.
I nodded. Frowned at the few scraps on his plate. “Did you eat enough?”
“The wolf had a few before he caught the fattest bird for you. Are you full?”
“Yes.”
“Warm and comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you, sir.”
His smile widened. “It does me good to hear it. Now,” he tugged me to stand between his knees. “I told you there would be a reckoning.”
“What?”
“Punishment, for your behavior in the ravine.” He cocked his head to the side. “Were you ever punished at the abbey?”
“Yes. The nuns with switches. The friar threatened us with a paddle, but mostly locked us in the scullery or had us kneel on pebbles.”
I drew up my skirt and showed him the little white scars.
Anger flickered in his face. “I will never mark you in this way. Not for punishment. You will wear my marks one day, but they will be marks of love.” His large hand settled on my shoulder, lightly collaring half my neck. His thumb stroked over my pulse.
“I don’t understand.”
“You will, little one. Now,” his tone turned stern. “You broke your word. You said you would obey and you did not. In the ravine, with the Grey Men, you ignored a direct order.”
“They were going to kill you.”
“I told you to run.”
“I could not watch you die.” I stared at the table until he caught my chin, drew my gaze to his.
“It is my right to protect and fight for you. Hazel, you could’ve been killed.”
I worried my lip.
“You promised me.”
“I know.”
He straightened, pushed his chair back from the table. “Come here,” he patted his lap.
I hesitated.
“Hazel, if you do not obey now, the punishment will be twice as long and hard.” He held out a hand, I took it and let him pull me over his knees. In that moment, I could no more resist him than I could tell my own heart not to beat.
He slid my shift up, exposing me. His leg moved, tipping my bottom up higher. He would be able to see everything—my bare, quivering bottom, the down covering my flushed sex, my pale thighs underneath.
“Have you ever been punished in this way?”
“No, sir.” It felt right to keep calling him that.
He chuckled. “Good girl.” He cupped my left bottom cheek and set the place between my legs throbbing. I shifted and the thick rod of his cock grew under my belly.
His hand squeezed, hard. “Be still, little one.” His voice was low and thick, guttural. “You do not want to tempt me anymore than you already have.”
I craned my head and met his blazing golden gaze. Knut still held me but now the man was gone, replaced by pure predator.
His fingers slid into the crevice of my bottom and I whimpered. Not because it hurt, but because my sex leaked more cream, threatening to dampen his leg.
Knut went very still.
“You like this,” he rasped. “You’re ready for me, ready for—” Instead of finish
ing his thought, he slid his fingers lower. A few inches and he’d reach my aching core. I wanted to fight it, even as I wanted more.
He took his hand away, placing it on my back, as a whine escaped me.
“Hazel, I’m going to punish you now.”
“Will it...will it hurt?”
“Yes,” he said gently. “It must, to teach you. In the pack, orders must be obeyed immediately. I am a leader, at the top of the pack, but even I must obey my Alpha. Your punishment will be hard enough to chastise, but it will not truly harm you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will.”
His hand smacked down.
“Did that hurt, little one?”
I let out a breath I’d been holding.
“Yes, but not much.”
He followed it up with another swat and I lost my breath again. When I struggled to get up, he held me fast and delivered a few more in rapid succession.
“Because you are new to this, I will only warm your arse. Next time you will heed me immediately or you’ll receive double the discipline. Once over my knee and again with a leather strap leaning over a table or a log. You’ll stand in the corner with your hands on your head in between.”
My sex clenched.
His hand clapped down, I kicked, and he spanked my right bottom cheek and then the left, swatting playfully but with enough force to leave a sting. He wasn’t using his full strength, not even close.
The pain pulsed in my secret places, making them even more slick. My wriggling squashed my breasts against his hard thighs and my nipples chafed against the unyielding muscle. I had to get away before the warm tendrils curling through me turned into an overwhelming blaze.
Knut struck again and I cried out as the heat turned into an inferno. My sex dripped.
“No,” I tried to wrench myself away. “You must stop.”
He caught my hands at my back and held them there. “Be still,” he warned again. “You will be still and take your punishment.”
