Kidnapped by the Berserkers: A menage shifter romance (Berserker Brides Book 3)

by Lee Savino

  “The pack will recognize our claim.”

  Thorbjorn’s fingers bit into my hip, then released. “It is not the pack I’m worried about. It’s her.”

  I sucked in a breath at the sharp pain piercing me. I knew the warriors would find me unclean and unworthy to be a mate, but I didn’t think it would be so soon.

  A hand came to my head. “Sage?” Thorbjorn asked. “Sweet one? Are you awake?”

  I forced my body to relax and sink further into the bed. I couldn’t face them. It was too humiliating.

  The warriors fell silent, and eventually sleep pulled me under.

  I woke again with cramps stabbing my bladder. Without thinking, I sat up and pulled my shift over my head, feet swinging towards the floor.

  “No, no,” Rolf caught me. “You’re not to walk today. Not until your feet are healed.”

  I gritted my teeth, but let him help me outside. My feet weren’t so badly blistered that I couldn’t stand for a moment, but the moment I’d wiped myself clean, he swung me up to carry me back.

  “Sage, you’re looking well.” Thorbjorn strode out of the forest, his own cheeks flushed. He stopped long enough to set a hand on the back of my neck and kissed my forehead. A hot feeling rushed through me and I averted my gaze, confused.

  When I looked up again, both men were smiling at me. I had the feeling they were keeping a joke from me.

  “What is it?” I asked, and couldn’t keep from sounding cross.

  “Nothing,” Thorbjorn chucked me under the chin. “I have something for you.”

  They brought me inside, where Thorbjorn laid out a pale green dress with little honey bees stitched on the hem. Rolf set me on the bed and I fingered the needlework. It looked like something Fern could stitch.

  “What do you think, lass?”

  “Lovely, but these clothes are for a child.” The longest garment wouldn’t come past my knees.

  “You are very small,” Rolf said.

  “I am a woman,” I crossed my arms over my breasts. Never mind that they were small. “This is not seemly.”

  “You are our mate. If we wish you to go about without clothes at all, you will obey.” Thorbjorn’s deep voice made me shiver.

  I raised my chin. “I am not your mate. You have not claimed me. I heard you talking of it.”

  The warriors exchanged glances, grinning again.

  Thorbjorn clasped my ankle. His large hand easily encircled it, and his thumb stroked the inside of my foot. “Do not provoke us, Sage. You will find us willing adversaries.”

  I tried to jerk my leg back, but he didn’t let go.

  “I am done with this. I am getting out of bed, and finding a better garment to wear, if I have to sew one out of furs.”

  “And if we say no?”

  A thrill surged through me. Why was I baiting the wolf? I’d never done something so mad in my life.

  But these men would never truly hurt me. The thought gave me courage, and a giddiness I couldn’t explain.

  “You cannot stop me,” I said. Which was not true. They loomed over me, muscled arms on display in the leather jerkins they wore. If they wanted to hold me down, they could do it with one hand.

  I held Thorbjorn’s eyes, which blazed gold. His cheeks were redder, but he held his body perfectly still. Waiting.

  I took a breath, and feigned, trying to slip around him, off the bed. He caught me, flipped me around and planted me belly down on the bed.

  “What are you doing?” I cried. He kept one hand in the small of my back, and drew up my shift with the other. Air hit my bare skin and I pushed against him as hard as I could. “Wait—”

  Thorbjorn smacked my bare bottom with a hand as hard and large as a wooden paddle.

  “Stop!” I kicked my legs.

  He laughed. “I like this red mark. So beautiful on such a sweet bottom. Come see, Rolf.”

  I growled into the bedding.

  “Ah yes, very nice. Let me take a turn.”

  “No,” I protested, but as soon as Thorbjorn drew away, Rolf set his hand on the back of my neck, pinning me. His hand traced the curve of my buttocks, soothing the stinging print Thorbjorn had left.

  To my horror, my pussy pulsed and moistened. I drew my legs together, hoping they wouldn’t notice.

  “She likes this,” Rolf commented. I let out a little moan. He still hadn’t spanked me. For a long moment, he stroked my tender bottom, and squeezed either cheek.

  “Please,” I begged, my voice muffled on the bed. I didn’t want him to find out how wet I was.

  “You’re lucky you’ve been ill, little one. The beast within us loves the sight of your chastisement. You may get disciplined every morning and every night, just so we can see the beautiful marks on your pale skin.”

  I whimpered, but not because I feared him. My cunny felt full of slick juices. It clenched around air in desperation.

  Two more smacks and I pushed my bottom up, desperate for more. Rolf obliged and my body rocked against the bed, pushed closer to climax with every blow.

  “Careful,” Thorbjorn said. “Too much and she won’t be able to sit today. And since we will not allow her to stand, we’ll have to tie her onto her belly.”

  “She can lay across my lap.” Rolf rubbed my heated flesh. “I will keep her there.” At my neck, his fingers flexed.

  I squirmed at the thought of being held down over Rolf’s hard thighs, helpless to move or even touch myself. Would he spank me if I wriggled on his knee, trying to find stimulation? Or would he use his own hand to bring me to the brink?

  “Such a lovely, responsive little thing.” He murmured, and kissed my bottom, his bristled cheeks scraping the sensitive flesh. I moaned into the bed. My nipples hardened and I rubbed my chest into the blankets to stimulate them.

  “All right now. This part of your punishment is over.”

  Rolf held me as Thorbjorn painted salve onto the bottoms of my feet.

  “Silly one.” He rose and kissed the top of my head, sending a fresh wave of tingles through me.

  I pouted. I would act like a child, as they insisted on treating me like one. They said they wanted me, then set me away. They kidnapped me for their own, only to dress me like a little girl and tease me. Some part of me wanted to push them to let me go, if I wasn’t good enough to mate. The rest of me wanted to beg to be tied to their bed, and stimulated as Rolf had threatened.

  As Thorbjorn fetched my medicine, Rolf kept a hand on my belly, tucked under my shift, stroking the flesh just under my breast. I shifted on my flaming bottom, and felt his cock grow beneath me.

  “There,” Thorbjorn said when I’d drunk the honeyed brew. “Let’s see the rest of you.”

  Both warriors helped me out of the old shift, but made no move to put me in the new one. I crossed my arms over my chest.

  “None of that.” Thorbjorn drew my hands away. He stood between my legs, and with me on the bed I was at the right height for him to run his hand up and down my sides. My nipples pebbled further under the warriors’ intent gaze.

  As Rolf watched, Thorbjorn explored me with soft touches. He toyed with my breasts until pleasure pulsed through my mind, a sensation I’d never felt. I stared at him in wonder, and he pressed a finger to my lips.

  “You’re lovely.” At last he stepped back, leaving my chest heaving as if I’d run a league.

  “You know,” Thorborn said. “If you do not like the dress, we can leave you like this.”

  “No, I like it.” I snatched the garment up and pressed it to my naked chest. “I like it very much.”

  Rolf smirked at me. They’d tricked me into wearing what they wanted.

  “Stay in bed now.” Thorbjorn shook a finger at me. “Else I’ll have you on your hands and knees, cleaning your bottom out as many times as it takes to make you mind.”

  I huffed and fell back on the pillows. I’d spend the rest of the day planning my revenge.

  My chance came the next day, when Rolf trotted in as a wolf. He Changed
to a man and sank down onto a stool in the corner, knife at his side. After winking at me, he leaned back and let his head droop against the wall. I’d seen him nap like this before, always in fits and spurts, as if he dared not sleep long.

  When his eyes stayed closed, I slipped from the bed and hobbled to the corner. The long strip of leather he used to sharpen his knife lay on the stool. I took it and tied it around Rolf’s ankles, taking care not to jerk him. I crept back to bed. With any luck, Thorbjorn would enter and wake Rolf, who would try to rise and fall.

  I giggled to myself. It was inspired, something Sorrel would do.

  Minutes passed and I wanted to peek out at him. I resisted, growing drowsy. I woke when the bed creaked.

  Rolf grinned at me, dangling the strip of leather from his hand. He’d woken, discovered himself tied, and slipped out of it and crept up on me. Either that, or he’d been awake the whole time.

  “Someone wants a punishment,” he said, and a thrill ran through me. Not fear. Lust.

  But when he snapped the leather, I winced.

  “Worried, lass?”

  I shook my head. These warriors were so careful not to frighten me.

  “I’ve been punished with the tawse,” I said. “A nun liked to discipline the orphans with it. She hit their hands.”

  “That is not how I will punish you. How are your feet?”

  “Healed, mostly.”

  “Good. Stand up.”

  He had me stand between his legs as he sat on the bed.

  My nipples beaded in anticipation.

  Reaching around me, Rolf threaded the strap between my legs. “Hold this.” He put each end in my hand, one behind, one before.

  “Hold it up, now,” he ordered. “Higher. Tighter.” He made me press it to the place between my legs, until the leather slid between my folds. Sensation bloomed at my core. My knees locked.

  “Now work it between your legs.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.”

  “’Tis unseemly.”

  “We are your mates. Nothing is unseemly.” He grasped my hands, one in front, one behind, and sawed the strap between my legs.

  “Oh,” I gasped. “Oh.” My legs quivered. Something wild and wonderful beat between my legs, a sharp ache, blissful agony. “What is this?”

  “Do you not know?” He dropped a kiss on my shoulder, grasping my hips and pulling me back into him. “’Tis your pleasure. You will find it at our hands.”

  I worked the strap some more, rising on tiptoe, every muscle straining. I wanted to stop and keep going, harder, at the same time. My movements grew faster as I decided.

  “Stop,” Rolf ordered, catching my arms to make me still.

  “Please—”

  “Will you obey me, little one?”

  “Yes. Anything.” I’d promise the moon if only I could keep rubbing.

  Rolf pried my fingers from the leather, but held it against my chafed and needy skin. “If you are good, we will let you use the strap to completion. If you are bad…” He slipped the strap away and snapped it. “Go kneel on the pelt in the corner, facing the wall.”

  I hesitated. The punishment seemed to fit a child.

  “Now, Sage, or I’ll add a few stripes to your pretty white bottom for you to think on.”

  I scrambled there. While I stared at the wallboards, the door scraped open.

  “Trouble?” Thorbjorn asked.

  “She tried to tie my legs while I slept.” Rolf’s voice held a grin.

  A guffaw, and Thorbjorn stomped to the fire. “Naughty Sage. What will we do with you?”

  When Rolf bade me turn around, a few minutes later, Thorbjorn had prepared another cleanse.

  I groaned.

  “Yes.” He didn’t wait for me to come to him, just drew me over and propped me into place. He moved my limbs gently, but with as much effort as if I was made of dandelion fluff.

  “I don’t need it.”

  “I think you do. Whenever you’re naughty, we’ll clean you to get the ill humors out.”

  “I thought you wanted me to be naughty.” I turned my cheek to the floor and scowled up at Rolf.

  “We want you to mind, but we enjoy punishing you.”

  Afterwards, Thorbjorn wrapped me in a silky pelt and set me on his lap. I dozed before the fire, content as a pampered cat.

  “You’re growing stronger,” he murmured. His fingers teased the back of my neck. “Did you ever get sick like this, at the abbey?”

  “Not like this.” I hadn’t dared show weakness. If an orphan got sick, the nuns fed her vinegar tea and gruel. It was enough to keep the young ones from even admitting to having a cold. “You don’t have to keep me like this. I’m not a babe.”

  “Hush.” The chair creaked as he lifted me and carried me to the bed. “You’re ours now. ‘Tis our decision how to keep you.” Thorbjorn fussed with the blankets, tucked me in tight and pressed a kiss to my forehead before walking out the door.

  “Tell him, Rolf,” I pleaded. “Tell him I am strong enough to care for myself.”

  The scout shook his head. “I will not. My warrior brother enjoys seeing to your every need. I will not deprive him the pleasure.”

  Wriggling until I freed my arms from the blankets, I threw them off of me.

  “Temper will only earn you a red bottom,” Rolf warned.

  “Why are you doing this? Just tell me.” From living in fear at the abbey, half-starved and filled with dread, to having two giant warriors dote on me as if one wrong move would make me shatter. I was half-afraid it all was a dream. “Help me understand.”

  Rolf sat on the bed, straightening the blankets. His movements were crisp and less tender than Thorbjorn’s, but the result of his care was the same. I lay back, snug and warm.

  “Thorbjorn has long been a warrior, but there was a time when he was more.”

  “More? What do you mean?”

  “He had a wife, before the witch cursed us and it was too dangerous for him to be near her. From what I understand, his brother stepped in to watch over her when Thorbjorn had to leave for good. A part of him still longs for a little one to care for.”

  “Little one?” I whispered.

  Rolf nodded. “A wife wasn’t all he left behind,” he said, and squeezed my hand gently. “Thorbjorn was a father.”

  I woke in bed, flopping over and tossing the pelt off my bare body.

  “Sage?” Thorbjorn was a shadow falling across the bed. A rough hand laid over my brow. “You’re burning up.”

  “I’m not ill.” I rubbed my eyes, a little dizzy. I drank the water he gave me. “This isn’t sickness. This is something else.” My body buzzed, restless. Beyond the door, the cool of the night beckoned me. Perhaps I could wander out there, and pace up and down in the clearing, like I did back at the abbey when my fever—

  It struck me. The fever had come upon me. It did not leave me weak, but burning with desire, eager for a man’s touch. My friend Willow suffered every full moon, but I had only felt the hot, burning ache once and awhile.

  “Come, sweet one.” Thorbjorn wiped down my face and hands with cool water. With gentle hands he cared for me, wearing an expression so tender I had to look away. Such a cruel curse, to give these men more power than any warrior, and then take away their family. Their reason to fight. No wonder they sought a cure.

  Thorbjorn lay on the bed, tucking me in front of him, atop the blankets. “You still need your rest. Just lie with me, and breathe.”

  I waited until his own breathing evened out.

  “I cannot,” I whispered. “I cannot do this.”

  “There is nothing we require of you,” Rolf spoke from the shadows. He came and crawled into bed on the other side of me. He sounded so sure, but I knew it was a lie. These men needed me to mate with them, to lift the curse. When the fever came upon me would I be able to resist them? Would I want to?

  I kept my head down the next morning, going through the motions of the day, ignoring the wa
rrior’s frowns. They deserved more than a scared and ruined orphan for a mate. Surely, after so many days of caring for my worthless weight, they would want to abandon me?

  My resolve lasted until Thorbjorn took my breakfast bowl and offered me a hand up.

  “Come,” he said.

  I took his hand and didn’t even ask where we were going. He stopped at the springs and stripped off my garment.

  “You had a hard night.” He led me into the pool. “You thrashed and cried out quite a bit.”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “I don’t tell you so you can ask forgiveness, girl. I tell you so you know why Rolf and I are doting on you.”

  “You always dote on me.”

  “Good.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead. “You will expect it.”

  He took up the cloth and used it to wash me, starting with my neck and shoulders, and quickly dipping to my breasts and down my belly to between my legs. He was very thorough. I couldn’t help my chest rising and falling faster, my nipples hardening to points.

  After bidding me dunk to rinse, he offered the cloth.

  “Will you wash me?”

  I swept the cloth up and down the ridges of his muscles, tracing the smooth, firm flesh, broken by a few scars.

  My finger circled a puckered knot marring his skin. “What happened?”

  “Arrow,” he grunted. “Rolf ripped it out. We were in the middle of battle. Berserkers heal quickly, but there was poison on the tip.”

  “Poison?”

  “Yes. We’ve lived a hard life, Sage, with no promise of the sweetness to come.” He caught my hand and pressed a kiss to the palm before releasing it. “You’re the sweetness.”

  Something leapt up in me, throbbing between my legs, a second beating heart needing, waiting, wanting to be touched. To be soothed.

  I could bear it no longer. I threw my arms around his shoulders, closing my eyes and pecking his lips with mine. I pressed my body to his, rocking a little as if I could merge my flesh with his.

  For a moment, he froze, and then his arms snapped around me. His hands supported my bottom, his mouth opened and he devoured me. I gave as good as I got, rubbing my aching center against him, winding my legs around his hips so I could pull him even closer to me.