Bonded to the Berserkers: A menage shifter romance (Berserker Brides Book 4)

by Lee Savino

  So I left one waterskin and took the other, and slipped away.

  I found the path Ulf had lead me on in the dark. Had it been only one night? I was still tired, my body aching from the fall.

  My legs burned after a few steps. I’d lived my life in the shelter of the abbey, rarely straying beyond its walls. At times my errands sent me to the village to buy a special meat or spice, but since I’d grown into a woman, I found others to go in my place. Men stared at my curvy body as if I were a piece of meat they wished to buy. I was happy to stay in the kitchen, slaving over the hot pots and oven, only leaving to pick an herb or gather the harvest.

  How had I come to be here, stumbling through a forest, guilt gnawing me for leaving my captor and my savior lying at the foot of the cliff.

  Brambles tore at my ragged shift, and I tugged the garment close to my body. I might as well be naked for all the protection the thin fabric gave me.

  No wonder Haakon looked at me with such hunger.

  And yet, he was gentle. He both shocked and soothed me, and seemed to want nothing more than to stand between me and my fear. One night, and I could not imagine leaving him. Or Ulf—as stern as he was, careful to keep the scarred side of his face turned away so as not to scare me. Could I survive without their protection? If the Corpse King really was out there, ready to harm me, was it wise to run from the warrior’s protection?

  The more I thought, the more my steps dragged.

  I’m safer on my own than with them. They make me… feel things.

  I reached the stream and knelt to fill the waterskin. When I raised my head, a giant wolf stared at me from the thick brush. I froze like a rabbit, wide eyed and trembling, unable to move or breathe.

  The predator slunk towards me with gleaming eyes. It held a few limp furry bodies in its jaw. It had already caught its dinner, a parcel of rabbits.

  Perhaps it wouldn’t want me.

  Still holding my gaze, it bent its head and lay down its kill.

  The air shimmered. A gust of wind rose with the thick, open smell like the air after a heavy rain. The wolf… Changed. In its place rose a man, naked with a pelt over his shoulders.

  I shrieked and ran back the way I came.

  15

  Ulf

  Laurel crashed through the bush, her white calves flashing under her shift. Even frightened, she gave off a rich perfume that called to the beast. It would gladly chase her for miles, but I grabbed her before she did herself harm.

  “Naughty one. What did I tell you about roaming through the forest?”

  She stilled as she recognized my voice. I turned her so she could see the contempt on my face. Too late I realized she would have a clear view of my scars, but she didn’t wince at their ugliness in the harsh light of day.

  “What did I tell you?” I shook her, fear making me angry. Another hour, she might have strayed out of our protection. I knew she would run. I was waiting for it. I just hoped she would’ve waited until she was stronger, and the threat of our enemies no more.

  Without waiting for an answer, I tossed her over my shoulder and strode back to camp.

  Haakon was waiting for me, awake, his hands crossed behind his head as if he’d simply laid down for a moment. The tenseness in his jaw told me the magic was doing its healing work, and he was suffering.

  “Look what I found in the woods,” I let Laurel down and she backed away.

  I’d left my clothes and weapons in the woods and gone hunting as a wolf. The Change left me naked but for a pelt over my shoulders. She seemed more afraid of my nakedness than anything else. Silly girl.

  “What a lovely catch,” Haakon said out loud. Using our bond, he added, I’d hoped for fresh meat, but once I am well fed, I wouldn’t mind eating her. No doubt she has the most delicate flavor.

  I barked a laugh, and Laurel jumped. Taking a rope, I bound her wrists and looped a section around her neck, then led her like a pet to Haakon.

  “Keep her close,” I ordered, handing him the leash.

  “It’s all right, little love,” I heard Haakon soothing her as I walked away. “He will not remain angry for long.”

  I went back to the stream and gathered up the waterskin and rabbits. Back at camp I built up the fire, skinned and spitted the game, letting the tension build.

  I didn’t think you were cruel, Ulf.

  I am not being cruel by making her wait. I merely wish to be calm when I punish our mate.

  I wasn’t speaking of making her wait. No doubt she’s happy to delay her discipline. I meant me. Haakon mock pouted. I want to see you punish her. I am an invalid, I have so few pleasures left to me.

  I had to bite my cheek to hide a smile.

  Truly, Ulf, she is contrite enough.

  Laurel sat with her head bowed. Even when I took the pelt from my shoulders and draped it over her knees, she barely raised her head.

  “For you,” I said. “To keep you warm. I’ll get you new garments when I next leave. This time I thought it best not to be long gone on the hunt. It is good I was not, because by the time I would’ve returned, you might’ve been lost. Or fallen into a ravine. Or captured by the Corpse King’s servants—and who knows what evil would befall you then?” I tore a hand through my hair, heart constricted with fear—the likes of which I hadn’t felt for a century. “Do you know that we rescued Hazel from a cave filled with bones? Whatever the Corpse King’s purpose with the spaewives, none of them survive. You are alive because of us.” My voice rang over the rocks. Laurel sat hunched with the pelt gripped in her hands, crying.

  “Oh, lass,” Haakon soothed. Enough, Ulf.

  “I am sorry,” Laurel sobbed. “I didn’t want to leave. But I must. I cannot remain here.”

  Crouching, I gripped her knee through the pelt. Her pale skin flushed with the first signs of the feverish heat that marked her as a spaewife and made her a perfect Berserker mate. I wanted to comfort her with sweet words like my warrior brother, but my voice came out harsh as ever.

  “You can run, but we will never let you go. You belong to us, now.”

  16

  Laurel

  Ulf left me to my tears. Haakon held the rope tying my wrists and collaring my neck, but he was gentle and didn’t tease me. Every once and awhile, he stiffened and sucked in a breath. His body went rigid, sweat beading on his forehead. At those times I might easily break free of my leash, but shame kept me kneeling beside the suffering warrior.

  Truly, I was a wicked girl. Compassion was one thing, but how did I come to care for such dangerous men? What was wrong with me?

  “Are you frightened of Ulf, lass?” he asked when the worst of his suffering had passed. “He will not punish you, too much.”

  I bit my lip. “He… he was a wolf.”

  “Ah, yes. That is one of our forms,” Haakon said simply, as if that explained the extraordinary. “But even when we are the wolf, you have nothing to fear.”

  “So you can turn into a wolf too?”

  “Yes. Big, dark, and hairy.” He waggled his brows. “The ladies love it.”

  I was too shocked to laugh at his joke. “Is that part of the curse?”

  “Yes. A part that is more of a gift.”

  A shadow fell over me. I cringed, but Ulf ignored me.

  “Here,” Ulf offered Haakon a skewer of meat and held it as the wounded warrior ate slowly.

  I sat up in protest. “That is almost raw.” The bloody meat turned my stomach. Ulf glanced at me but said nothing.

  “It’s good,” Haakon mumbled between bites.

  When Ulf stalked back to the fire, I followed as much as the rope would allow.

  “He needs broth. Healing soups. I can make them.”

  “We are not in a kitchen.”

  “Can’t you fetch a pot from the village, when you get me a new gown?”

  “Best we not camp here too long.”

  “You can’t move him. Not yet.” Perhaps not ever. I gulped down my doubts, but Ulf seemed to sense them.
/>   “He will heal,” he said, his face dark.

  “He will heal faster if I cook soups.” I was being ridiculous, but I did not care. Better to bluster and argue than think on how I really felt.

  Ulf grunted. He freed my hands to eat, and he pressed a skewer of meat upon me before feeding the rest to Haakon.

  “Eat, little one,” Haakon urged when he noticed me sitting with the skewer in my hands. At least my portion of the rabbit was well cooked.

  Haakon and I filled our bellies, but Ulf ate not a bite.

  “Can you move your legs?” Ulf asked when Haakon had wiped the last of the grease from his face and drunk almost a skin of water.

  Haakon nodded.

  “Show me.” Ulf stood over the wounded warrior, watching closely as Haakon did a series of exercises that left beads of sweat on his forehead.

  Haakon crouched to wipe his brow. “I may need to splint your back.”

  Breathless from exertion, Haakon shook his head.

  “If it heals wrong, we’ll have to rebreak it.”

  “I know,” Haakon gasped.

  “Can you Change?”

  “Not yet. I am—” Haakon bit off the rest of that sentence.

  Ulf lay a hand on his shoulder. “Rest. You will be well. If I have to call a witch—”

  “No. No witches.”

  “Very well. Here is your nurse, then.”

  Ulf tugged my collar and leash. I sat up and tried to smile at my pale patient.

  “So pretty,” Haakon didn’t miss the chance to charm me. “the sight of her is enough to heal me.”

  Ulf snorted. His good nature faded when he turned to me.

  “I’m leaving to patrol. I will return soon. If you run again, I will tie you so you cannot move. And your punishment will be double. Tell me you understand.”

  “I understand,” I whispered. Only when the scarred warrior left, I dared to breathe.

  I huddled near Haakon and spread cool cloths on his brow. Fever burned again, tinging his cheeks red. A spasm went through him, then another, shaking his legs and leaving him limp.

  I stroked back his hair, peering at his glassy eyes until he blinked.

  “Does it hurt very much?”

  “Better with you here.”

  I bit my lip again, bowing my head. Haakon grasped my wrist. “What is it, lass?”

  “I should not be here.”

  “Why not? You are safe with us.”

  I shook my head vaguely.

  “Did a man hurt you?” his tone turned so dark I whipped my head around.

  “No. I didn’t often venture outside of the abbey, and certainly didn’t stray among men. I was a good girl.”

  “You are good,” He stroked my thigh. Again the heat twisted through my core, body awakening, a flower turning to the sun.

  I sucked in a breath, seized with the need to run again. As if he sensed it, he used the leash to tug me closer.

  “You are ashamed.”

  “When you touch me, I feel… strange.”

  “Does it feel good?”

  I looked away. I couldn’t lie, but I couldn’t tell the truth.

  “Where is the fighter who challenged us in the kitchen?” His hand cupped my face, shaking a little with exertion. I clasped it, holding it up as he stroked the apple of my cheek.

  “You do not run from us. You ran from yourself.” With that pronouncement, he sagged, and I lowered his arm.

  “I am not supposed to feel this way.” I kept my eyes on the ground.

  “No more running. We will help you face your fears. We will keep you safe.”

  “You make me feel things,” I whispered as his fingers played over my thighs. “It would be better if you’d left me in the kitchens.”

  “You wish to hide? You wish to lock all your beauty away? Look at me, Laurel.” He waited until I met his gold gaze. “You must embrace who you are.”

  “It’s not right.”

  “It is.”

  I shook my head. “That is not what they taught us.”

  “Then we will teach you anew. But not right now. Right now, I wish to lie next to a beautiful woman and nap the day away.” He pulled the leash until I lay down beside him.

  We dozed together in the sunlight, me tucked against the warrior’s side. Even though I had slept little last night, the rest I had gotten had been deep and peaceful. As troubled as these warriors made my mind, my body was at ease. A bud tightly furled, longing for more. The warriors held the secret to coaxing such a bud to open. Not harsh words or angry blows, but gentle sunshine and delicious rain. Soon, my body would bloom. I would give myself to them, and they would not even need to touch me.

  I woke with a start as Ulf entered the clearing, carrying a large cauldron that sloshed as if filled with water. The warrior’s corded muscles flexed as he set it down gently near the fire.

  “Your pot, milady,” he said. “And—” from a makeshift pack, he produced a lady’s gown, a bright scarlet brocade that rolled in thick folds to the ground. My breath caught. I had crossed to him to touch the brilliant fabric before I knew what I was doing.

  “Bright as a robin’s breast,” Haakon murmured. “The Corpse King won’t need to scry to find her. She’ll stand out in all but a field of poppies.”

  “The Corpse King can scent her, as we can. The shade of her gown matters not,” Ulf told him, and turned to me. “We will not let him near you. I thought the color would suit your pale skin and dark hair. And your lips, bright as berries.”

  “I—” I licked my lips, looking from Ulf to the dress. “Thank you.”

  But when I reached for it he held it away.

  “Not so fast. You still must be punished.”

  I gulped.

  “If we were in the lodge,” Ulf continued. “I would’ve stripped you from the first, and made you earn your clothes back. You would not run far if you were naked.”

  Haakon chuckled.

  Ulf lay the gown over a clean rock. “But I don’t want you catching a chill. You will wear your shift, and you will use this water to bathe Haakon.” He nodded to the pot.

  My hands twisted in my thin garment. “Bathe him?”

  “Come on lass. Am I so frightening?” Haakon grinned. His pain seemed to fade whenever he teased me.

  I shook my head. The warrior’s large, battered body would look better cleaned of blood. “But,” I turned back to Ulf. “What about his breeches?”

  The scarred warrior handed me a knife with a large, wicked blade.

  “Oh no,” Haakon spoke up. “Whose punishment is this? You leave me at the mercy of a lady and a long knife?”

  “She can shave you, too,” Ulf called over his shoulder as he swaggered off, his axe cocked on his shoulder.

  “I’m jesting, lass. I trust you.”

  I swallowed hard. I did not trust myself.

  “It’s all right, Laurel. Hand it over.” Haakon used the blade to cut his breeches away. I helped remove the rags, taking care to ease the cloth away gently so as not to disturb his position. I left his loincloth, but when I leaned over him, my hair draped over his middle and he sucked in a breath. I stilled. “Did I hurt you?”

  “It’s nothing of consequence,” he gritted out. “I know something that will make it feel better.”

  “What?”

  “If you wash me naked.” He winked.

  “I will do no such thing,” I gasped, even as heat curled through me, a wicked excitement that made my loins ache.

  “Come lass,” he picked up a cloth and tossed it to me. “This is your punishment.” Then he lay back, grinning as his body drew my eye. He was so broad and strong, clad only in a loincloth, tented with his hard length. A few inches and he’d be bare to me…

  “Laurel,” Haakon called me from my reverie. I blushed, and he laughed. “Do you need more instruction on how to wash me?”

  “I-I don’t know if I can do this.” In his presence, my body came alive. I knew some of my orphan sisters suffered a fever th
at left them moaning with lust. They kept it a secret, in case the nuns found out and punished them. If I touched Haakon as I wished, my desire wouldn’t be secret anymore.

  “Please, lass. You promised to care for me.” Haakon made his voice contrite, but I wasn’t fooled.

  “You must behave,” I told him.

  The wicked glint in his eye told me he would do no such thing.

  In a huff, I wet the rags, and bent to my work. The grime and blood cleared away from the smooth skin with satisfying speed. I rubbed gently up and down the long lines of his muscles, so firm under my fingertips.

  I couldn’t keep myself from smoothing my hands over the scars on his pebbled abdomen.

  “I got those before I was a Berserker,” Haakon said.

  “When was that?”

  “Many, many years ago. In a land to the north, across the sea. Countless kings have come and gone since I was young.”

  “Truly?” I was shocked. For all his scars and strapping muscles, Haakon didn’t look older than a young man from my village.

  “The magic keeps us young.”

  “What magic could do this?” I breathed, and a shadow fell over his face.

  “None good.”

  His sadness was so unlike Haakon, I kept caring for him, cleaning his muscles until they gleamed, dabbing gently around his wounds. I even threaded a cloth between his toes.

  “That feels good,” he sighed, and I propped his foot in my lap, rubbing the sole, hoping he would soon relax and return to joking. The silence weighing over us did not feel good.

  “It was a contest,” he spoke abruptly. I kept quietly massaging his feet. “There was a jarl who would be king. He called for a competition to decide his best warriors. I was young, but I was strong and fast. My father had trained me to fight with axe and sword. I competed with all the jarl’s men, and rose quickly through the ranks.”

  “Was Ulf there?” I asked.

  “Aye. He fought alongside me. In the end, there were only a hundred of us out of a great force. The jarl split us into five groups, twenty men each, and sent us to the witch. I—”