Given to the Berserkers: A menage shifter romance (Berserker Saga Book 4)

by Lee Savino

  “I fear the Berserker rage more than any other force.”

  “You fear nothing, little witch,” That was Maddox. “Much to our dismay. We wish you feared us. It would be easier to make you obey.”

  I imagined her swatting him away.

  “You do your sister a disservice, thinking her so weak. She is stronger than you know.”

  “Her strength may break her. She will obey you, and at what cost? To spend the rest of her life shackled to some brute--”

  “We will make sure she is well treated by whoever wins the Games. We need her to do her duty.”

  “Duty? She’s an eighteen year old girl-”

  “Who has the power to bring balance and stability to the pack. These warriors have gone so long without hope of living a normal life. Living as men. The Games gives them a chance to compete for what they desire above all,” Maddox said.

  “And when they see the strongest of them rewarded with a bride, they will accept his right over them,” Ragnvald continued, “otherwise, I fear they will tear each other apart challenging for Muriel’s hand. The Games will be violent, but not deadly.”

  “We hope.”

  “It is not right. Muriel should be able to choose. Perhaps we could wait, and see if she is like Brenna and me. Muriel may not have the magic that allows her to bond with a mate.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “She’s never come into heat, as I did,” Sabine insisted.

  “You were a ripe fruit ready for us to pluck. Maddox stalked you for several moons, enjoying your scent.”

  “Tortured by it,” Maddox muttered.

  “My point is,” Sabine sounded aggrieved. “Muriel may not be able to form a mating bond, as Brenna and I were able to. We should wait and see if her abilities grow.”

  A long pause, as if the Alphas were considering it.

  “No,” Ragnvald answered, finally. “There is no time.”

  “All will be well, Sabine.”

  “It’s not fair,” there was defeat in my sister’s voice, “She should be mated to someone she can love.”

  “Perhaps, in time, she will come to love the one to whom she is given. After all, stranger things have happened. I recall a certain young woman who liked to stray from her home at night, who was taken by two Berserker warriors. She fell madly in love with them.”

  “You wish, wolf,” Sabine said, but her tone was warm. A pause followed, filled with soft, passionate sounds I tried not to hear. When a low moan rose, I rolled over and clamped my blanket over my ears. Despite my worry, I smiled into the darkness.

  *

  “Muriel, will you help me sort these herbs?” Sabine called me from my place staring into the fire. My own small bag was full and ready for our journey.

  “I don’t know what to bring,” my sister fussed over her great table. Since our talk at the hearth, she’d been in a testy mood, as if she was going to be given to the Berserkers instead of me. After a heated argument, Sabine ordered her Alphas out of the lodge, and refused to let them back in. To my surprise, they obeyed, murmuring that they’d be back when it was time to leave for the Games.

  The Games….I’d spent two days trying not to think of my fate, yet my thoughts swirled endlessly, reliving the conversation with Ragnvald and imagining what the Games would be like. Which warrior would win? In my dreams, I only saw Fergus’ face, his red hair and sparkling eyes as he came to claim me as his prize…

  “What are you thinking?” Sabine asked.

  I shrugged and leaned on her table, toying with a few stems of dried angelica. Sabine covered my hand with hers.

  “Muriel, my powers are still growing, but if you wish to leave now,” she lowered her voice further, “I can call the witch Yseult. Her powers are greater than mine. She could help you escape.”

  I gave her a sad smile. “Where would I go?”

  “Anywhere, far from here. The witch could hide you for a time.”

  For a moment, I toyed with idea of running away with Fergus. We could build a small cabin in a forgotten corner of the island, perhaps by the sea.

  My foolish dream lived only a second. There was no corner of the earth where I could hide from these warriors. When they went to hunt, they tore great stags apart with their bare hands; if I ran, I’d be much easier prey. Besides, I would never put Fergus at harm. They’d take delight in destroying him.

  No one could stop these Berserkers from taking what they wanted. And they wanted me.

  I shook my head. “I cannot betray the truce. I’ll be all right, Sabine. They will not mistreat me.” I offered a fervent prayer to the goddess that this would be so. “I can do my duty. It is what the pack requires.”

  “Damn the pack! I wish the goddess would throw all the Berserkers in the sea.”

  “No, you don’t. You’d miss them too much. At least two of them.”

  “I don’t want you to sacrifice your life.”

  “You did. Would you change your fate?”

  “No.” Sabine gnawed her lip. “But, Muriel, remember that your fate is more than duty. You deserve to have a husband you love. I promised you once I would help you marry well, remember?”

  “I remember,” I couldn’t keep the unhappiness out of my voice. I knew I was being selfish. My sisters Sabine and Brenna had been taken against their will to become Berserker mates, and had grown to love them. But was I strong enough to do the same?

  *

  The next day Berserker warriors came to escort me to the place where the Games would be held. These were men from the Highland pack. I looked for Fergus, but he was not among them. Ragnvald and Maddox were coming to represent the Lowland Pack, and wherever they went, their mate went with them, so Sabine was coming too. After the Games, she would take time to visit with Brenna and her new family, and relieve Fleur of some of the baby-watching duties.

  I supposed I could help, too, if my new mate would allow it. My thoughts slid to Fergus. Did he like children? Would he raise them if I died birthing them? My sister had survived a difficult birth, but Sabine had told me Brenna had magic helping her. I had no magic. Would this make me an inferior mate? Would the Berserker who won me be disappointed and cast me aside? Would this threaten the peace?

  My stomach churned and my foot caught my hem, making me stumble.

  “Careful,” one of the Berserkers held his hand out as if to break my fall, but did not touch me.

  “Are you all right?” Sabine and her mates glanced back.

  I hitched my dress up so it would not snag my boots. “Fine,” I answered, and managed a smile. After a brief pause, Ragnvald gave the order and we marched on.

  Walking in shadow between twin columns of the large warriors, I decided not to think about my life after the Games. I’d take this journey one step at a time.

  We were headed to the Place of Stones, halfway between the Lowland and Highland Pack’s home. The journey would’ve been quicker with horses, but the animals could not abide being near a Berserker. It would also be faster for the Berserkers to carry Sabine and I, as they have great strength and speed. But they could not because I was unmated and it would offend my future mate for the men to touch me, or so Ragnvald explained to me.

  The day was fine and we made good time, so when Sabine requested we stop for lunch, her Alphas agreed. The three of them slipped off together leaving me standing stiffly with my honor guard. As the warriors handed out strips of meat, I drifted closer to a nearby stream. These men were on their best behavior, but I still kept a distance between myself and them while we waited for Sabine to finish with her lovers. I was used to the three of them disappearing like this, and did not fault them. Ragnvald and Maddox had nearly gone mad waiting for their true mate, the one who would balance the raging beast within and bring them peace. They needed connection with Sabine like food and air, and my sister was happy to comply. When she complained of their possessiveness, she did so with a smile.

  My sisters were well matched with Berserkers, and happy. Perhaps
I would be so lucky.

  I found a rock near the pool and sat down, studying my reflection. Skin not dark or pale, but tan with faint freckles. Long hair neither very blonde or very dark, but a dun brown. I wasn’t short like Sabine, or tall like Brenna. There was nothing extraordinary about my looks or my person. Sabine had smarts and Brenna had courage, but I was lacking in both.

  My hand dashed my reflection. At least one red-headed warrior had thought me beautiful. He was well built and strong, and he wanted me.

  “Fergus,” I whispered, touching my hair where I’d threaded the white flower. “If there was any magic in me, I would use it to find a way to bind us now.”

  “Does our company weary you so much that you’d speak to your own reflection?” A warrior with blond hair loomed over me. I’d noticed him before—he had fine looks but an unhandsome sneer on his face, and watched me in a way that made me uneasy.

  “I know. Let us have some entertainment. A small tournament. Any man here can challenge me.”

  I rose and scooted away from the warrior, under the pretense of going to a berry bush to pick fruit for my lunch. If I was lucky, I would not attract any unwelcome attention.

  The blond warrior faced the rest of the troop. I noted that none met his eyes—a sign that this bully was dominant in the pack. “Well, come on? Will no one challenge me? Winner gets a kiss from the prize.”

  At that, I stiffened. I might be no more than a prize to these men, but my kisses were mine to give. This warrior had no right to claim them.

  “The winner will get nothing from me,” I blurted. “I am not a bawd, earning my keep in your beds.”

  The blond warrior whirled and stalked back towards me, and I knew I’d made a mistake. He stalked closer, intent on tormenting me.

  “No? Pity. It might be better for the pack if you were. Perhaps I will suggest it at the Gathering. We could pass you around and enjoy your charms. Why should one man claim what we all could share?”

  I tensed as he bent over me, but stood my ground. “My fate has been decided.”

  “Such a shame. We could have had fun.” He stepped closer, too close. Every instinct in me told me to run. I clenched my fists at my sides and forced myself not to look up at him, or strike out, goading him further.

  I couldn’t stop my sharp tongue. “I doubt I would enjoy it.”

  His voice dropped an octave lower, but the seductive purr only made my skin crawl. “It will be my pleasure to prove you wrong.”

  “Not unless you win the Games.” Inwardly I shuddered at the thought of being shackled to such a bully.

  When I started to move away, he caught my sleeve with a growl.

  “Siebold,” a deep voice rang out before I could lash out. “Take two wolves and patrol ahead.”

  The bully froze. “But--”

  “Now.” Even I felt the push of compulsion in the order. Berserkers were wolves who followed an Alpha, and a more dominant wolf had power over a weaker one. Whoever this Siebold was, he held sway over most of the warriors—but not all of them.

  The blond left and my savior approached. Without thinking, I looked up…and looked up further. This man was enormous. Tall and broad, his heavily muscled form towered over me, enough to block out the sun. His legs were like tree trunks; his arms and shoulders stretching the leather jerkin he wore. He wasn’t handsome—a scar slashed over his blunt features, and his grey stubble on his chin matched that of his shaved head—but he was striking, powerful. A force to be reckoned with.

  At the last moment, I dropped my gaze.

  “The rest of you, spread out. Form a perimeter,” the giant ordered, and the rest of my escort obeyed. He remained, my sole protector.

  Slowly, my body relaxed. I picked some fruit off the berry bush while the great warrior hovered at my side.

  “You would do well to eat more than berries, little one.” He offered me a strip of dried meat.

  “Thank you, sir.” I accepted, careful not to touch his fingers. I’d had little appetite lately, but I found it had returned. When I finished the meat, I unhooked a horn I wore at my belt, and filled it with water from the stream. The giant warrior stayed at my side, watching over me. I offered him the horn, first. He paused before he took it.

  “Careful, Muriel. Sharing a drink with a warrior means more to him than it might to you.” At my puzzled look, he explained. “Long ago, when a woman approached a man with a horn, it meant she had chosen him for the night. We remember some of these rules from the years when we were men.”

  “I’ll take more care, sir.” I didn’t raise my eyes beyond the dip in the center of his chest. Pack rules didn’t allow weaker members to look stronger ones in the eye. To do so was a challenge that could result in a fight to the death. In many packs, females that could not fight were punished for rising above their place. As a human female, I was weaker than any other, and this man was twice as tall and thrice as broad as me, the most powerful Berserker I’d ever seen. He could crush me with a single blow, yet I felt safe in his shadow, unlike with Siebold or most of the others.

  “Look at me, little one,” he rumbled. Nervous, I obeyed almost as soon as he gave the command. The scar gave his face a brutal look, but his grey eyes were kind.

  “I thought…” I licked my lips and found my voice, “I was told I’m not supposed to look any wolf in the eye,” I told him.

  “It is wise to follow that rule carefully, but not with me. Never with me. My wolf doesn’t see you as a threat.”

  I felt like he’d told me something important.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, trying to be polite.

  Grey eyes smiled.

  “So brave. You did well, standing up to Siebold.”

  I pursed my lips. “He’s a bully.”

  “He is. A dangerous one. You need to take care not to bait him, unless you’re around me.”

  “I’ve never been good at holding my tongue.”

  “So I’ve heard. You were very brave when the Berserkers first took you, calling out to save your sister’s life, making demands of the Lowland Pack even when you were their captive.”

  I blinked. “You heard of that?”

  “Every wolf has heard of it.” Reaching out, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ears. I jerked back, my heart tripping faster. This warrior dwarfed me in every way. His hands could span the width of my waist, but when his blunt fingers caught a handful of my long, brown tresses, his thumb stroked the shining lock of hair with surprising gentleness.

  “My lord--” I protested, tugging the lock from his grip. Heat suffused my body as if he had touched my skin, and again my gaze fell to the chiseled muscles of his chest. Cheeks hot, I couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

  “Wulfgar,” he supplied, amusement in his tone.

  “My lord Wulfgar, you should not touch me. It does dishonor to the man who will win my hand.”

  One side of his mouth creased in a half smile. “Is that so, little one? Then I had better win.”

  *

  The day of the Games dawned bright and sunny, but my stomach was a tempest.

  Sabine helped me bathe the night before. She used oils to soften my skin and hair, and herbs to scent them. Once or twice she seemed about to speak to me of something beyond the ‘what gown I was to wear’, or ‘what flowers she would weave in my hair’, but I distracted her with idle chatter. I could not bear to hear her ask how I was, mostly because I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t break down and beg her to help me escape, even knowing how foolish it was.

  I found myself seated with Sabine and the four Alphas on a giant rock that served as a dais overlooking the Games. Brenna and Fleur were not going to attend. Brenna stayed home with her twin boys, and Fleur was recovering from her most recent fever. I almost envied my twin’s illness as I sat stiffly on display for the warriors competing for my hand. Grunts echoed up and down the field as Berserkers ran and clashed with one another in a skirmish whose rules I didn't understand.

  Normally I'd enjoy being
out in the sun on such a fine day, but I spent most of the morning staring at my folded hands, or at the banks of white wildflowers that lined the playing field. I still had the blossom Fergus had given me by the stream.

  Ragnvald leaned close to me. “You may watch, Muriel. They compete for your honor.”

  Dutifully, I raised my gaze, but my eyes sought out only one form on the field. With his red hair, Fergus was easy to find--he wore the green ribbon I’d given him, tied around his bicep. He ran in man shape, rushing along with the others. The shortest and smallest of all the warriors, he looked like a boy among men.

  My fingers clenched my skirts as I watched Fergus play ducking and weaving through warriors greater in size. For a moment he broke out of the pack, and caught a round pigskin they'd stitched into a ball. Warriors raced towards him, fencing him in as he threw the ball to another.

  “Do ye know how this game is played?” One of the Alphas mated to my sister Brenna squatted next to me.

  “No, my lord.”

  “Call me Daegan, wee sister,” he grinned and I caught a glimpse of his elongated canines. Even in man form, Berserkers kept some lupine qualities, and moved with predatory grace.

  “They compete now as two groups. The team who runs the ball through the goal there--" he pointed to a net stretched between a wooden frame, "gets a point."

  The warriors now lined up across from each other. Maddox had left the dais to oversee this game. At his shout and piercing whistle, the two lines of Berserkers ran and smashed into each other.

  Dropping my gaze, I winced at the brutal sounds.

  "No blood is to be drawn at this point," Daegan continued. "Any player caught using an unfair advantage of weapon, tooth or claw will be disqualified."

  I forced myself to watch again. Berserker brides could not be squeamish. Again and again the line of warriors formed, and the men clashed.

  "How will a winner be chosen?" I asked, keeping an eye on a certain redhead fighting in the fray.

  "This game will not decide your mate. The winning team will advance to the next contest and the losers will not. That is why they play with such ferocity."