Beowulf's Claim (Viking Warriors Book 3)

by Jessica Knight

  “That’s what you said the first time you found out my full name. And you followed through. You never called me Wulf again, no matter how many times I begged.”

  “Well, I suppose I don’t change much, do I?” I say with a yawn.

  “I suppose not,” he kisses my forehead, and both of us sigh at the same time. “I’ll be back soon. Leiva is right. You are in no condition to travel. It was unwise of me to even think it.” He hangs in his head, ashamed and disappointed in himself. “It would have put you in danger.”

  “Yes, it was. And yes, it would have,” Leiva agrees as she makes the bed next to me, giving Beowulf a look of disapproval.

  “Beowulf,” I whisper, and he comes closer. I love how big his eyes get when I say his name. It’s true happiness, but he is waiting for me to tell him I remember him, and I can’t. All I can do is tell him how it makes me feel because feelings can’t be wrong.

  “Aye, Lilith?” His voice gets deep, and it stays soft when he says my name. I can listen to his voice all day, enjoying the raspy timbre.

  “Your name sounds familiar to me.”

  “It should. You’ve said it a thousand times in your life,” he teases.

  “It makes me feel safe,” I admit, holding my hand over my heart. “Please, don’t go. Can’t whatever you are doing wait?”

  “No, Angel. It can’t. I’ll be back before you know it. How about you go back to sleep. I wager I’ll be here by the time you wake up.” His lips fall to my forehead again, giving me a sweet kiss goodbye.

  I know I won’t be able to stop him this time. When he pulls his lips away, I hold back a whimper and follow them for a second, a bit dazed from having his mouth on me, even if it is just a peck to the forehead. They are so warm and soft, which is unexpected coming from a man like him.

  I like how he is a walking contradiction; to me he is anyway. All big, bad, ready to kill, but with me, he is different. Softer. How can I not believe him when he calls to my heart?

  “Be safe, Beowulf.”

  “Just Wulf.”

  “Just no way am I calling you anything other than Beowulf,” I say through a yawn. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t go with him. I’m exhausted.

  He tsks and takes a step back. “Always a pain in my ass.”

  “Always,” I whisper before my lids are weighted shut, and I drift to darkness.

  * * *

  It’s cold. Everything around me is damp. My feet are tender and raw from being barefoot against the wet floor, covered in mud and grime. My palms bleed from gripping the bars of the cell all day and night, pulling and pushing against them to try and get free. It’s not like I could go anywhere anyway. There are iron cuffs around my ankles.

  No one can help me here.

  “Blondie,” the man singsongs, his voice echoing down the hall.

  I shake my head and walk backwards to try and get away from the front of the cell until my back hits the wall.

  He whistles as he gets closer, cackling every few seconds. “Blondie,” he sings again.

  Tears fall down my raw, bruised cheeks when a shadow of a man stands in front of the cell with a whip in his hand.

  “Hey, blondie. Ready for our night of fun?”

  He flicks his wrist. The whip cracks in the air, causing me to jump. I imagine it hitting against my back.

  Only one savior comes to mind, and I’m afraid he will never find me. If he does, it’ll be too late. I’ll be someone beyond recognition.

  “Beowulf,” I whisper a quiet plea as the man unlocks the door to the dungeon, cracking the whip once again.

  * * *

  “Beowulf!” I scream at the top of my lungs, jolting myself forward from a deep sleep.

  “Lilith, I’m here. I’m right here, Angel. Shhh, it’s okay,” Beowulf croons and sits on bed next to me, wrapping his arms around my frail body. “Breathe. You’re safe. You’re safe here. You’re in my arms.”

  “Beowulf,” I wail as loud as I can and cry into his chest. That wasn’t a dream. It was too real to be a dream.

  “I’m here, Angel. I’m here.”

  I clutch onto his shirt and let the fear out. The sobs, the cries that leave my chest are almost not human. I soak his shirt with my tears, and when he moves, I grab onto him harder and shake my head, silently begging him not to go anywhere. I choke and gasp, clawing at his body for safety.

  “Beowulf,” I repeat, broken.

  “I’m here.”

  “You—weren’t—there,” I manage out through stuttered breaths.

  He turns and lays me back against the bed, fear and worry etched on his face. “What? Where, Lilith?”

  “You weren’t there. I called for you, and you weren’t there. I prayed to the goddess, and you weren’t there.” I cover my face with my hands when the crack of the whip lashes in my mind.

  He takes my hands away from my face, and when I look into his eyes, I notice how red-rimmed and glossy they are. “Where? Where did you call for me? I’m here with you. Talk to me, please. You’re killing me, Angel.”

  “I had a dream, but I think it was a memory. A man came by every night and whipped me. I’d call out for you. That’s all I know. I only know I called out for you, but I can’t remember you, but in my most frightening time, I wanted you. Where were you?”

  A tear leaves his eye. It falls off his face onto mine. He shakes his head, his thick hair fanning over us like a veil. It’s private, and I’m locked into his gaze. It’s only us.

  “I searched for you for five years. Five whole years, Angel. I searched everywhere. I thought you were dead. I’ve mourned you every day since the day you left. I wish I could have heard you call for me. I would have given my life to find you. I’m sorry they hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

  “Why did I want you?” I ask with a sniffle.

  “Because—” he takes my hand and places it against his chest. “I make you feel safe, just like you make me feel.”

  “I’m frightened.”

  He moves to the side, and I curl into his massive body, breathing in his musky scent. Nothing has ever smelled better, so warm and welcoming. My breath starts to even, and my eyes shut again, listening to his heartbeat. It’s strong and steady, a beautiful song lulling me to sleep, but I’m too afraid to dream again.

  “I’m here, Lilith. Call for me again, and I’ll be right here.”

  “Promise?”

  “I swear on my life,” he says, running his fingers through my hair.

  “I think I loved you in my other life, Beowulf,” I mumble half asleep, wondering if, by any chance, he loved me too, before I fall into a peaceful slumber without dreams of dark memories.

  Chapter Six

  Beowulf

  Calling out for me in real life is one thing, calling out for me in her dreams is another. It has wrecked me on the inside. Once she fell asleep again, I dug my fingers deep in my eye sockets to keep the damn emotions in. I’ve done well stuffing all my feelings in a damn box and shoving them to the side, but now that she is here and back in my arms, the box has exploded, booming fucking shit I don’t know how to deal with right now.

  I had just gotten back from going down to the village and buying her something to wear when I heard her calling my name from the castle. I had just hopped off my horse when I heard her scream my name.

  I have never run so fast in my life. I got to her just in time before she woke up and sobbed into my chest.

  “Wulf?”

  Trident’s voice is low, and I know he is trying to whisper, but it causes Lilith to stir.

  Sighing, I pinch my lips together. I’m not in the mood for Trident.

  “Not here,” I mouth and pull away from Lilith, carefully crawling out of her tight embrace. She grumbles something in her sleep and turns over, her beautiful blonde hair splaying against the pillow. I want to bury my face in it and inhale, drowning myself over and over in the natural scent of sunshine that still radiates off her.

  Reluctantly, I turn to the side to get by
Trident and give the man my back, giving him the one opportunity to get his revenge. “How’s it going?” he asks when we are out of earshot of Leiva.

  “How’s it going? That’s what you want to ask me right now?”

  “Well, I don’t really see how asking why you nearly killed me is going to get me anywhere. I came to see how my friend was doing because the last time I saw him, he was a fucking mad man.”

  I press my back against a nearby wall and cross my arms. “I shouldn’t have to tell you why I wanted to choke the life out of you. A good friend would know.”

  “Right. Or you heard something that pissed you off because it struck a chord.”

  Something about his words cut me deeper than intended. I probably fucked up the one friendship I have because I didn’t think straight. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did, but I can’t turn back time.

  “She makes you weak,” he says under his breath. “I’ve never seen you so out of sorts. Einarr needs you. We need you to start training again. The fucking Jackals aren’t going to defeat themselves. We still have another half of a wall to build and Abram, Einarr’s son, he is good, Wulf. Real good, and under your guidance, he can be one of our best, but the Warlord—”

  “—Can teach him what he needs to know. He is a Warlord for a reason.”

  “He can’t teach what is here,” Trident hits his chest. “You know you are worth twenty of the men we have down there.”

  “I am going to be there. Warlord gave me the time I requested. She just woke up gasping my name from a nightmare that the Jackals gave her, Trident. She doesn’t remember me, but she remembers this—” I point to my chest “−−the one thing you apparently think is only good for killing people. I’m done with this conversation, Trident. This friendship? It’s over. You don’t know me. The only one who knows me is laying in that bed.” I point beyond the wall to where Lilith is, waiting for me. “I thought you understood. I truly did, but the only thing you care about is the battlefield. I have more to my life now, and I hope you shall too one day. Until then, fuck off.”

  For the second time, I give him my back and go back to Lilith. I realize I’m risking everything. She doesn’t understand what I am sacrificing. It isn’t a good thing for me to be away from my duties; it’s bad for my rank. My boots carry me to Lilith and away from Trident, the one person who I thought I’d probably always have at my side. There has been one person who has ever been a constant for me. Who looked past the warrior in me, the made-to-be killer, and accepted me. She knew I’d be good at my job, but she always knew I’d lose myself in it if I wasn’t careful, and when she disappeared, I submerged myself.

  The more I killed, the darker I felt, cloaking the misery that ate at me, that fuelled me every day. All that is gone now because she is back here, and she needs me. I won’t abandon her again. I learned my lesson the first time.

  The chair creaks from my weight when I sit down. I tilt my head back and blow out all the air in my lungs, staring at the old wooden beams supporting the stone walls of the castle. Life has changed so much. In one split second, my world was normal, and then I blinked, and my past came roaring forward.

  “You must get some rest, Wulf,” Leiva says in a soft tone, placing her hand on my shoulder. Her hands are always so damn cold.

  “I’ll sleep, eventually. I just want to watch over her.”

  “I can do that. It’s my job.”

  Lilith turns over again, and the blanket falls down her back. What I see has me on my feet in a split second.

  “Goddess,” I whisper, slowly trickling the blanket the rest of the way down until I see her entire back, the one that used to be flawless and golden. Scars everywhere. My fingers reach out, hovering over the thick ridges puckering her skin. “What did they do to you, Lilith?” I ask, mapping every inch of her back with my eyes, my eyes brimming with tears. There isn’t a section of skin that isn’t marred. It’s years of abuse. All those years that she called out for me, all those years she was alone.

  And I gave up.

  I would have fallen on the floor if the chair didn’t catch me. I grab the edge of the blanket and lift it over her back to cover up the scars.

  “You weren’t supposed to see those.”

  Her voice is small and barely audible. Lilith doesn’t turn over. She keeps her back to me, but all I want to do is see her beautiful face.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Angel.” I can’t contain the pain ridding in my voice. So much regret is weighing me down; it nearly sends me to my knees.

  “There was nothing you could have done.”

  “I could have found you, Angel.”

  The blankets rustle, and the sound makes me lift my eyes to see hers looking back at me. “You couldn’t have. You searched for five years. I don’t blame you for stopping. I would have thought I was dead, too.”

  “I shouldn’t have given up. I should have kept looking. I should—”

  “—Stop, Beowulf. Stop.” Lilith lays on her back, defeated. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m here. Safe.”

  “I’ll never fail you again,” I swear.

  “You’ve never failed me. At least, I don’t feel like you have,” she says, unsure.

  Oh, I have, but I can’t keep trying to convince her of that. The only person that needs to know is me, and I know the truth. I let it go, for now, and reach into my satchel, and the gown I bought for Lilith rubs against my fingers. It’s the finest of material. Only the best for my Angel. It’s a beautiful velvet, a bright blue. Materials like that are expensive, but since it has been me, and only me for my entire life, I have been able to save money. I can afford whatever I want within reason.

  “I, uh, I brought you something.” I combed the entire village for the most perfect gift, and now I’m too afraid to give it to her. She may not like it. I pull my hand out of the worn leather bag, changing my mind.

  “Truly?” she sits up, brighter than the other day. Her skin seems healthier, and her eyes are full of life. She even seems to have gained a little weight now that I have a good look at her. “What is it? I’ve never had a gift before.”

  “Silly, Angel. Yes, you have. You just can’t remember.”

  Her smile falls, and instantly I’m remorseful. “But you will, eventually. If not, it’s the dawn of a new age.” I dive my hand into my handmade satchel again and grab the gown. It’s light and smooth. When I first saw the long blue material, I imagined Lilith in it, smiling and dancing in the sun like she used to. I imagined her smiling while her blonde hair glittered against the burning star’s shine. The soft velvet hugging her curves and accentuating her breasts. Even though it was just imagined, my heart raced, and my cock hardened, right there in the middle of the village, imagining her in the one-of-a-kind gown.

  I knew I had to get it for her.

  “Okay,” she whispers. “Beowulf, show me. I’m excited.” Lilith bounces on the bed, her smile bright as a full moon. It’s the first real smile she’s had since she woke up. I can see a small part of the old Lilith in her again.

  My mouth twitches, but I hold back my grin. I don’t want to scare her when I finally have her smiling. “I hope you like it.” I swallow my uncertainty and lift my arm, bringing the gown to life. I stand and hold it up so she can get the full view.

  But she giggles, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “What? You don’t like it? Is it too blue? I thought you’d like it. Your favorite flower was always the blue one in the meadow. You picked bundles of them.” I can’t believe I got it wrong. I was so certainshe would like it.

  “It’s the most beautiful gown in the entire world. And I think it looks fabulous on you,” she giggles again, and it lightens my heart. Goddess, it’s the most beautiful sound in the world.

  I tilt my head, giving her a small, genuine smile. “On me? No, it’s for you.”

  “You sure?”

  I look down to see what she is talking about and pull the dress to the side. Bloody hell, I had the damn t
hing against my own body. My face burns with embarrassment, and I look in every direction I can find, except hers.

  “It brought out your eyes,” she teases, taking the dress from my grasp. I let it go without a second thought. Anything to get that gown away from me.

  I want to say something smart back, but I don’t. Instead, I watch as she presses the top of the dress against her chest. Lilith runs her hands down the front of the material again and again, like she can’t get enough of how it feels.

  “It will bring out yours,” I say, still glancing around the room, appreciating how clean Leiva keeps the place. It’s great. Truly.

  “Beowulf.”

  “Hmm?” I tilt my head up to the ceiling. It’s high. I wonder how King Leif built this place.

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you. I love it.” Her hand lands on mine, bringing me out of my stupor.

  I lock my eyes on our hands, and my skin ignites into a fiery dance. It takes my breath away.

  “I’m glad,” I manage to say through a deep swallow.

  She stands on the bed, which makes her only a few inches shorter than me. Lilith sways, and her legs begin to shake, unable to hold her weight, and I wrap my arms around her just in time before she collapses.

  “What are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself hurt?”

  My hand tangles with her hair as I hold her by the back of the head. Her eyes search mine, and I get lost in the golden sea. She leans forward, puffs of her sweet breath tap against my lips and I inhale, drowning in what keeps her alive, feeding my own lungs.

  At the last moment, she turns her head, placing her soft lips against the corner of my mouth.

  Chapter Seven

  Lilith

  “You’re in a good mood today,” Leiva grins. It’s her way of prying.

  “I feel good today.” I do not admit that I keep thinking about how close my lips were to Beowulf’s yesterday. I was so near that beautiful mouth, but I did not have the courage to get closer. I can’t remember if I’ve ever been kissed, so I didn’t want to make a fool of myself with Beowulf. He seems like the type of man that has plenty of experience with kissing.