by Lee Savino
“Chase birds?” Willow asked.
“Just talking to wolfie here.” He gestured and I let out a low growl.
Wolfie?
Better than ugly. Leif continued, “He wanted to go down to the lake earlier. Perhaps you could go fetch water with him.”
“You talk to him?” Willow’s eyes widened until they seemed to take up half her face, but she’d stepped away from the wall. Her black hair blew in the wind. I wanted to go curl up at her feet.
“Of course. He and I have long been companions, right, wolfie?”
I let out a high-pitched bark, as close to a dog’s as I could make it.
Willow took another step closer, and glanced around the keep. “Is Brokk here?”
“He’ll be back, soon enough,” Leif smirked.
This is ridiculous, Leif. Just tell her it’s me.
Not until you’ve earned her trust as a great furry beast. Did I ever tell you you’re much nicer as a wolf?
I raised a lip, showing my teeth in a silent half snarl.
Certainly better looking. Smirking, Leif pulled my share of the meat from the flame—still half-raw—and tossed it to me. I caught it in my mouth and ambled away to take my meal overlooking the lake and the birds. Willow didn’t need to see me tear apart flesh and bone.
I ducked my head to keep from smelling the roasted rabbit. The wolf preferred raw, but the scent seemed to draw Willow away from the wall. My ears pricked up as she ventured near the fire, sitting on a stone near Leif. He waited until she’d settled before slicing off bits of the meat.
“Here.” He sat, too. “Taste this.”
He held it up, tsking when she tried to take it with her fingers. She blushed as he bade her open her mouth and eat from his hand like a little bird, but her stomach growled and overruled her embarrassment. A tender smile played over Leif’s lips as he fed her.
See, Brokk? She will become used to us. And then… Then we would seduce her, eventually stripping away all her defenses and claiming her. A mating bond would form between the three of us, two monsters in man-form and the lithe and lovely woman with the power to break our curse. It seemed almost too easy.
Too easy? We’ve waited over a century for her, battling the beast.
I did not respond.
“How did you become friends with a wolf?” Willow asked.
“He saved my life, I saved his.” Leif kept up the ruse. He liked this game. Then again, telling lies in the middle of truth was a particular gift of my silver-tongued friend.
Leif frowned when he caught the echo of my thought.
It will not be like before, Brokk. You must believe me.
I rose and carried my meat bones around the wall so I could crunch them with animal savagery.
Willow watched me go.
BY MIDAFTERNOON, I itched to run in the forest, but the wolf wanted to remain close to his mate. She sat nearby, and, when I stayed very still, she relaxed. Her curiosity outweighed her fear.
“You can touch him,” Leif invited. “He’s harmless. See.” He rose and came to my side. “He will let me pet him.”
If I bite off your hand, it will not grow back.
You won’t bite me. Leif ran his hand down my back. Not while she’s watching.
I endured the petting. My warrior brother kept it blessedly brief.
“Now your turn, Willow,” Leif coaxed her over.
I held my breath as she approached. I saw the moment she decided to be brave. She paused as if weighing her fears then went ahead anyway, with the same determination Leif had noticed when we first met her. No hesitation.
She stroked my back with small white fingers. Relaxed under her touch, I felt a quiver deep within, my beast stirring as it recognized my greatest longing would soon be satisfied. I laid my head on my paws, eyes closing in pleasure as she played with my ears.
“See?” Leif said. “He likes it.”
Willow kept petting me. She relaxed, but her hands felt cold. When I Changed back into a man, the magic might leave me with a pelt about my shoulders. I would give her each fur and shift as often as I could until I could build her a bed piled with wolf skins. My mate would sleep in comfort she’d never known before.
The wolf let out a satisfied growl, muted so as not to scare our timid prey. It liked the idea of Willow surrounded by my scent.
BY MIDDAY, she sat right next to me and didn’t smell nervous at all.
Leif fed her, and she once went behind a wall to relieve herself, but when she returned, she curled up again by my side. She seemed to draw comfort from me, a wonder I scarce believed.
I told you. Leif sounded smug.
“Are my friends all right?” she asked, twisting her fingers together. With a small whine, I nudged her, and she stroked my nose instead.
“They all are protected,” Leif answered, with a glance at me. We hadn’t been able to reach the pack via the bond. Too many leagues and too much dark magic disrupting even the Alphas’ power. “Not all of them are out of danger. We know the Grey Men attacked.”
“What are the Grey Men?” she asked.
“Servants of the Corpse King, an evil mage who wishes the world to be under his rule. He draws power by wedding and bedding your kind.”
“My kind?”
“Aye. You have magic in your blood. You’re a special race of women, with power that allows you to…” he hesitated, but Willow’s eyes were focused on the lake beyond Leif.
“Magic,” she breathed. “How can that be?”
“We think the magic remains latent until you are wed.” Leif, ever the charmer, phrased things in a way she might understand.
My wolf snorted. Wolves did not wed, they mated, and for life. A Berserker bond ran deeper than a human vow. Once Willow linked to us, mind to mind, we would be as one.
The brother bond Leif and I used to share power allowed us to share a woman as well. If we had not bonded, sharing a woman would be impossible. We would fight to the death, and succumb to the beast, our salvation just out of reach.
“I don’t believe in magic.” Willow wrapped her arms around her small body.
“What of your gods? You lived in a holy place, among the devout. Have you never seen their power?”
“No.” She drew her legs up to her chest, shrinking in on herself. “I pray and pray, but no one answers,” she mumbled, almost to herself.
“What about witches and seers?”
“The friar speaks out against them.”
“Some men hate what they do not understand. Or what they cannot control,” Leif said, and for once I felt grateful for his silver tongue. “There is evil, but there is also good.”
The woman raised her head. I butted her hand until she petted me again.
“The magic you possess is a subtle thing. It manifests in an affinity for herbs and healing. Surely you have that gift.”
“If there is magic like that in the world, I do not have any,” she said. “I have suffered a sickness all my life.”
“What is the nature of the sickness?” Leif asked.
After glancing at the horizon, where the moon would soon rise, she shook her head.
“What if I could prove to you there is magic?” Leif said.
Careful. I stiffened. This is not a game.
She is strong. Let us give her the truth. We owe it to her.
Let it be on your head, then. My words tasted bitter. His folly would not rest on his head, but on mine. Always on mine.
Willow sat still and trusting as I padded to the center of empty keep. The sun shone high above us. I could see every freckle, every dark eyelash on Willow’s cheek as she blinked.
I hope this is the right choice.
Leif stayed silent. He and I tread on new hunting ground. We’d never lured a mate before, but we always got our prey.
I raised my wolf head and Changed. The magic crept from tailbone to nape and back again. Sometimes it hurt, but this time it didn’t. A soft wind blew through the keep as I stretched and ros
e out of the wolf form.
By the time I stood as a man, naked but for the loincloth at my hips and pelt around my shoulders, the woman had crawled back against the wall and huddled there. She trembled, biting her lip, blinking back tears.
“It’s all right,” I rasped, my voice hoarse as my throat struggled to remember how to form human words.
Her distress called to the darker part of me. Not wolf, not man, but the deep hunger of the beast. It wanted to destroy her enemies then lay her down and claim her, make her know she would always be ours.
“Brokk,” Leif snapped, and I stopped moving towards the fragile female. In the end, he went to her and comforted her, while I slipped away. I would Change back into a wolf and go on the hunt. I’d rather chase down prey than to stare into a frightened woman’s eyes.
LEIF
“Willow, be calm. All is well. There is magic in us, but it will not harm you.” At least, it would not if we mated soon enough to keep the beast quiet.
She shook her head and stayed tucked against the wall, her arms around her legs. I hated the raw sorrow on her face. She’d begun to give us her trust, and I had broken it.
I let her be for the rest of the afternoon. She stayed stiff and silent. When she shivered, she would not even let me come close to tuck a fur around her. I dropped the wolf pelt nearby, but once I turned my back, she picked it up and flung it away. I bit back a grin when she glared. I much preferred her anger to her sadness. When she finished sulking, I would find a new way to woo her.
A few times I tried to reach out to the pack, but the link remained faint. We’d strayed out of distance of even the Alphas’ strong call. Or the Corpse King had found a way to disrupt our bond as we’d believed he might.
The mere thought of our powerful enemy brought my beast to the fore. I hid my hands as my nails lengthened. Gritting my teeth, I resisted the Change.
Brokk. You must return. We both must bond with her soon. I tried to draw strength from my warrior brother, as I had done many times before. Under the pretense of relieving myself, I stepped behind the wall and braced against the grey-green stones, willing my body to remain a man’s. We’d already frightened Willow once today. I prayed she’d never meet the monster we could become, the Berserker beast.
Brokk. Brother. Please.
He kept blocking me. Sunset approached, and I didn’t trust my own control.
You cannot leave me alone with her, Brokk. It is not safe. Damn him for making me beg. I’d always been the weaker one. He took pleasure in reminding me.
“Leif?” Willow called.
“One moment,” I barked, my voice thick as my throat. My head throbbed with the ache of resisting the Change, but at last I regained control and came out from behind the wall.
She had risen but hadn’t stepped from her spot. “May I have some water?”
I forced a smile. “Of course, lass. We will go down to the lake.”
She came to my side. I’d removed the tether and my arm ring from around her throat the night before, and as much as I admired her lovely neck, I missed the sight of my silver collaring it.
“Give me your word you will not try to run. These woods are strange to us. I do not know what lurks here.”
“I will not run.”
“If you do, I will let Brokk punish you.”
Her scent flared, and the musk of her arousal made my cock respond. For a moment, my vision swam, but the beast did not seize control. It watched, waiting in the shadows, curious about the small, fragile being frowning up at me.
“You like the idea of punishment?”
“What? No.” She took a step back.
I growled, low in my throat. “Do not run from me, Willow. I will chase and catch you without much effort.” Her scent blazed hotter, the longing of a spaewife, eager for my claim. “I’m warning you, lass. I am more predator than man. But if you do as I say, you will be safe.”
She gnawed her lips, her thoughts warring across her face. Part of her wanted to run; part of her did not.
“We will go to the lake,” I told her. “You will stay by my side, and obey. Or do you wish to risk running into the arms of the Grey Men?” The Corpse King’s servants should not come close to this place, but we must take care.
Shuddering, she shook her head. “I give you my word. I will not run.”
“Then, come.” At first, she ignored my outstretched hand, so I took her wrist instead.
Her pulse jumped under my touch. I led her, my cock growing harder with each step. The beast needed to claim, to protect, to dominate. Willow invited all three. I couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect.
I took her to a little stream that fed the lake, so she could drink the sweet, clear water. She crouched before me, filling her cupped hands. She drank until her pale cheeks flushed pink under her wild black hair. I quenched my thirst, staying alert to our surroundings. My nose told me we remained safe, but the Corpse King had many weapons. If he found us, he might weave a spell and catch us unaware.
A fox peered at us from the briar. I showed my teeth, and let the predator into my eyes. The creature fled.
Willow watched me as I studied the black lake through the trees. My wolf preened, enjoying her attention.
I winked at her, and a little furrow appeared between her eyes. Mine must be golden with the beast’s magic.
“Are you also…” She paused, licking her lips.
“A wolf?” I finished for her. “Yes, I am. It is a long story, but I will keep it brief. Brokk and I are warriors of old. We fought for a king in the North Lands. He sent a band of his greatest warriors to a witch, thinking her spells would make us mighty.” I fell silent for a moment. I didn’t wish to explain the pride, the fierce elation at being chosen to become the best of the best. Or the horror when we woke and felt the beast stir within us, our hands still bloody from the first slaughter of innocents, our lives forever cursed.
“Did her spells work?”
“They made us very powerful, but power always carries a price.”
I took her wrist again and we walked around the castle.
“You are Norseman?”
“Yes.” I found a tree with hard, green apples and tossed one to her. “We came to this island to claim it for Harald Fair Hair, but remained.”
Her brow wrinkled. “That king ruled many years ago.”
“Over a hundred. Our lifespans have been lengthened. An effect of dealing with magic.”
She paled again.
“You’ve heard of Harald Fair Hair. You know your history?”
She gave a stiff nod. “A few traveling monks visited the abbey. They were kind to the orphans and taught my friend and I a few things.”
“Tell me about your friends.”
“My friends?”
I nodded.
“We all came at different times and ages. My closest friends are Sage, Laurel, and Ivy. Also Angelica, Sorrel, and Rosalind, but they are younger.”
I bit into my apple. “All orphans?”
“Some came when their parents died. Others came from families with too many children to feed. Their parents gave them up—those are the ones who aren’t named for plants. Sage and I came as babes.” She toyed with her apple, adding in a low voice, “I never knew my mother.”
I tossed my apple core away. Brokk and I had left our family behind so long ago we didn’t remember them. I could not comfort her, but soon there would be no need. Brokk and I would be her family.
“All of you are spaewives.”
The furrow between her brows returned. “Everyone living at the abbey?”
“Perhaps not all of the holy women, but certainly all of the orphans. The friar only took in female orphans, correct?”
She nodded.
“I would stake my life on it. You all have a natural magic, an affinity with the earth. Do any of you make herbs or tinctures? Medicines your priest frowned upon because they always seem to work?”
“Yes,” she replied. “We all do, but th
at is part of our duties. We’re not witches.”
“Spaewives aren’t quite witches. Your magic comes from deep inside.”
Willow wrung her hands, staring at the ground.
“We will not know what special abilities you have. But you have time to learn. There is one more sign, the mark of a spaewife ready to come into her full power.”
“What’s that?”
“The mating heat,” I drawled, and savored her expression.
Pink flooded her cheeks. I should not enjoy taunting her, but she responded so prettily.
“I do not know anything about that.” She whirled and began the climb back to the keep.
When I caught her arm, she resisted. “Careful, little captive.” I tapped my nose. “Wolves can smell a lie.” I leaned in closer. “Do you know what else we can smell?”
Her deep blush was quite fetching. I almost sent the image to Brokk before I remembered he still blocked me.
“The heat allows you to bind forever to a magical creature. That’s why the Corpse King seeks you so fervently. He wants you to be his bride.”
She laughed, a shaky sound.
“What is it, Willow?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head. “A day ago, I had barely spoken to a man. Now you tell me a mage wants to marry me. It is unbelievable.”
“Why?” I asked, and when she didn’t answer, I said, “The mage is not the only one who seeks you for this purpose.”
Her head snapped up. “You mean—”
“Aye, Willow. You are the perfect Berserker bride.”
WILLOW
“Berserker?” I squeaked. “Is that what you are?”
“Yes.” Leif’s grin was white and pointy.
I tugged my hand away from him. “So I am to be your bride.”
He inclined his head, still smug. I wanted to slap his face.
“And we live where? Here?” I cast a hand towards the ruins. The place seemed fitting enough. Isolated, wild. “Or in a forest den?”
Leif’s face tightened. “No. We’re taking you to the mountain, our home. We will live near the rest of the pack, in a lodge we’ll build for you.” His fingers caught a strand of my hair and tucked it behind my ear. His voice softened a touch. “You belong to us, Willow, and above all, we care for our mate.”
