Ægir: A Berserker Warrior Romance (Berserker Warriors Book 1)

by Lee Savino

  My father’s men had retreated. With frightened shouts, they barricaded themselves in the lodge as the Sea Wolf rushed towards them.

  “No,” I cried, stumbling and almost falling. Only Nanny’s firm grip, tugging me forward, kept me upright.

  I realized she was pulling me up the cliff.

  “You cannot help him now.”

  “He’s a monster. The curse will never let him go.” The wind snatched at my hair and numbed my face.

  “And he’ll lay waste to your father’s land. The lodge will not hold him back, no matter what your father thinks.”

  My breath was a rock in my throat. The vision I’d had would come true. The lodge roof on fire. The men and women’s bodies strewn around. Dòmhnall was dead, he would not lay waste to the island. But Ægir, mad with the curse, would.

  “There’s no time,” Nanny shouted over the wind. Her hands peeled away the layers of cloaks around me. I shivered, naked in the cold air.

  “He loves you?”

  I nodded.

  Nanny turned me to the cliff’s edge and gave me a little push. “Then fly.”

  I tottered on the grassy ledge. “But—”

  “You can do it child. You’re the raven. Lead him home.”

  And I knew what I must do.

  Below on the beach, Ægir’s men finished off the last of Dòmhnall’s and watched their leader seek new prey.

  The Sea Wolf climbed on the roof of the lodge and tore into the rushes. A few more heartbeats and he’d break through, and lay waste to the frightened people huddled below. My people. My family.

  No time to lose.

  I stepped up to the cliff edge. My toes curled. Far below, the sea crashed into the rocks.

  “Do it, Muireann. Fly!” Nanny called. “Fly away girl, with the magic your mother gave you.”

  I spread my arms and leapt into the air. The world tilted. The Change came over me between one breath and the next. The wind caught my wings before I hit the water, and I soared upwards in a warm draft. I was light and free, no longer hungry or sick or tired. Magic indeed.

  I flew over the beach. Hawk’s teeth flashed and he gave a wave. I cawed a hello and flapped to gain height.

  The monster on the lodge roof paused in the act of ripping the thatch bundles apart. I let loose a stream of scolding cries. The wind tugged my tail feathers and I turned and flew back over the beach. Straight over the water.

  That’s it, daughter, my mother’s voice whispered. That’s the way.

  Behind me, the monster bounded to the ground. His men scrambled out of the way, but the monster ignored them and the heaps of dead bodies. He waded right into the water, roaring as if he wanted me to wait. I floated on an updraft. Would he sink? Or swim?

  The Sea Wolf reached the depths and sank into the waves for one horrible heartbeat. Then his head broke the surface, his furry arms and legs churning the water.

  I cawed and pointed my beak into the mist. The small shadow of a bird coasted over the water, leading the white-furred creature toward the open sea. I could only hope the magic gave him enough strength and stamina to follow me where I flew. I did not know how long we would journey. I did not even know the way.

  Mother, guide me, I prayed. And bravely, stupidly, flapped into the grey.

  For a moment my senses scrambled. Up was down and down was up. I forgot to flap my wings and tumbled closer to the water. Animal instincts took over and I regained the height, cawing to scold myself. I must trust myself, and the raven. Below, the white-furred beast swam doggedly on. He would follow me to the ends of the earth and beyond. I must figure out where to go.

  Ahead, made of mist and light, a figure detached itself from a cloud and flew ahead of me in the shape of a raven. I stretched and strained my wings to follow. We flew through the fog, the spirit raven leaving a trail of light for me to follow.

  It took longer than it should’ve for me to realize where the light raven led me. Nanny had hinted about the secret haven across the water, the home my mother built. Nanny had wanted me to fly there and hide from Dòmhnall. Nanny knew my mother hadn’t kept it for her own solitude. My mother had kept it for me. And the story they both told was one I needed to hear.

  As a raven flies true, you’ll always find your way home.

  It was destiny then. His and mine.

  5

  I did not know how long I flew, leading the Sea Wolf home. He swam with boundless energy and I found new strength in knowing the curse wouldn’t kill him before I could bring him home.

  At last the mists broke. The raven of light cawed and soared away, becoming one with the sun sparkling on the calm waters. A green land stretched before me; one I’d never seen. No houses nor people, only a few white dots that might be sheep grazing on their lonely pastures. But on the edge of the water, at the end of a long line of rocks, stood a little hut. The one my mother built. The one Nanny spoke of.

  Home.

  The Sea Wolf was another, larger, white dot in the great sea. I waited until I was sure he knew where I was headed and used the favorable wind to outdistance him. I had to hurry if I wanted to arrive first and make ready.

  The moment my claws touched land, I transformed. I sprawled, a naked, wild haired woman, on the little hut’s doorstep. Teeth chattering from the Change, I pushed open the sturdy door. It swung open easily before me in welcome. I said a prayer of thanks to my mother and hurried inside.

  The hut wasn’t too big, but it wasn’t too small. Ægir would fit through the door. He wouldn’t be able to stand anywhere but the apex of the roof, but he could sit by the hearth. Or lie on the bed…

  I pressed cold hands to flaming cheeks. The air was unseasonably warm, but I was chilled from my flight. There was a neat stack of driftwood beside the hearth. I peered up the stone chimney to be sure there were no nests in it, and saw a simple grate at the top, cunningly keeping any creatures out.

  The tinder was dry, too. No mold had taken hold within the stone walls. The place wasn’t even too dusty. The shelves on the walls were mostly empty, but other than a few spiderwebs, they were clean. There was a cedar box under the bed, and I found a few of my mother’s work dresses. The bed held woolen blankets, uneaten by any moths.

  My mother knew how to keep a household. The door kept out any curious sheep and here and there were packets of mint to deter mice.

  I tossed a bundle of herbs on the fire as I’d watched Nanny do and said a word of thanks. For one heartbeat, my skin prickled with a rush of magic, but then it was gone, and the hut was a normal, if strangely tidy for being so long out of use, place.

  Home.

  I bundled up in a blanket, grabbed some fishing line off the shelf, and went to catch some dinner.

  The wind nipped my skin, but I didn’t see the use in wearing one of the dresses. Not until I could be sure a certain warrior wouldn’t tear them with clumsy claws. Besides, he’d be naked too, unless the magic gave him some clothes.

  A long strip of rocks stretched from the hut’s doorstep out to sea. I clambered over the dark, wet shape until I came to the end of the spit. There I cast out my fishing line and tried not to stare too often at the horizon. I lost my fight and ended up climbing the tallest stone where I shaded my eyes and waited for a white-furred shape to appear.

  It was a long, lonely watch. I’d caught three fish and strung them up before a figure broke the serene line where sea met sky. The Sea Wolf had done it. He was almost home.

  I whispered the name that beat in my heart. Ægir. The sound must have carried, for the warrior seemed to swim faster. As he came closer, I saw he was no longer a white-furred monster but a man with a tawny head and tanned arms. The white pelt clinging to his shoulders was just that—a pelt, not part of his body.

  When he finally reached the end of the rocky spit, I was waiting.

  “Come, my love,” I called and reached out my hand. He hesitated before climbing up the rocks to where I stood, well out of the water. I tugged his fingers and he took his firs
t steps on land as a man, his legs as shaky as a babe’s.

  When he was on solid ground, he sank to his knees and put his wet head against my belly.

  “It’s all right,” I laughed and tugged the blanket around us both. “I’ll teach you to walk. I’ll teach you to live as a man again.”

  “M-m-m…”

  I put two fingers against his lips. “Muireann. ‘Tis a strange name for Northman to say. I’ll teach you how to speak it, too.”

  I started to turn away, wanting to get him inside. But he pulled me back and kissed me. His lips burned on mine, transferring the taste of salt, of water, of need. My skin tingled and my feet left the ground. The Sea Wolf had picked me up, lips still locked on mine. He drank of me and I him, inhaling the scent of each other in great gulps. Finally, I pulled away, laughing as he kissed down the column of my throat, his stubble tickling me. I threaded my fingers in his wet hair and drew him up. His eyes flared with an unearthly light, then the glow died, leaving them more ordinary, if tawny brown with hints of gold was ordinary.

  “Muireann,” he whispered as if my kiss had reminded him how to speak. If that was true, we would have to spend more time kissing.

  “Welcome, Ægir. The sea’s your home no longer.”

  He started walking, ignoring my request for him to put me down. He carried me all the way to the hut. Sure enough, he had to duck to get through the door. Once inside, surprise flashed over his features.

  “It was my mother’s,” I explained, pulling out of his hold. He let me go and I stepped back and held the blanket around me, suddenly shy. “She built it and kept it for me. For us.” I turned to flash him a smile, but he looked so sober my mirth died.

  Clearing my throat, I hustled to tend the fire. “There’s enough wood for the night, but we’ll have to find more tomorrow. Nothing but fish for food, until we can slaughter a sheep.”

  Ægir knelt by the hearth, and I whirled away, my hands fluttering like little birds. “I best go get the fish then—”

  With a grunt, he stalked outside. The door slammed behind him. I sank onto the bed, wondering why this was so hard. Did he not want me? Was I not the one he would’ve chosen? The curse chose for us, I reflected as I left the hut to find water. My mother was smart enough to find a source of water before building a haven.

  Sure enough, I found a stream of sweet water and a bucket besides. The door scraped when I opened it and Ægir whirled as if to stab an intruder. I gasped and dropped the bucket.

  “You frightened me.” We weren’t used to each other yet. He stood awkwardly by as I trotted forward to set the bucket by the fire. He was fully naked now and the pelt was stretched out by the fire to dry.

  “Came back and you were gone,” he rumbled, the longest sentence I’d ever heard from him. He was more man and less beast with each passing heartbeat. No need for kissing then, I thought dispiritedly, though my heart thumped as Ægir loomed over me. “Wondered if you were a dream.”

  I licked my lips. His face seemed leaner, his beard longer, as if the long swim and lifting the curse had aged him an extra day. “Not a dream.”

  He was still so large he filled the room. He stooped a little to stand closer by me. He can’t be comfortable. Would my mother had built the ceiling a little taller. Or perhaps I was meant to get my great warrior immediately to lie down in bed.

  I flushed head to toe.

  Ægir tilted his head, studying me as he had so often in the tower. His hand hovered over my neck and I started babbling. “There’s a stream behind here. It’s what the sheep use. I don’t know how far back this land goes, whether it’s an island or part of the mainland. I expect it is cut off somehow from civilization. My mother—” He lifted a curl of my hair and my gushing words stopped.

  “So fine,” he murmured. “Feathers.”

  “Yes.

  “Muireann,” he asked, halting, “do you want me?”

  “I led you here, didn’t I? Why else would I try to break the curse?”

  He smoothed down my hair, a useless gesture. My hair was completely untamable after a flight. “Pity.”

  I drew myself up. “It’s not pity I feel for you, warrior. You saved me from Dòmhnall. Twice.”

  He shrugged. “Fly away.”

  “If I had flown away, Dòmhnall would’ve taken the island by force. I had to go back. When you came, you saved them all. How did you find me?”

  “Sweet.” He pressed a handful of my hair to his face, inhaling as if his life depended on it. Perhaps it did.

  “You smell sweet, too,” I whispered, pressing closer. “You’re still the Sea Wolf. A warrior who takes what he pleases. Or am I not what you want?”

  He pounced then, a flash of gold in his eyes. “Mine,” he growled against my neck.

  I laughed. This was better. “You must claim me then,” I whispered, twining my arms around his neck as he carried me to the bed. We were both naked still—my days in the tower made me used to it, and now there was no reason to wear clothes—but this was different. The air between our bodies was heated, charged. We came together, bodies shuddering as if we needed to be near. As if without his hard, ridged flesh against me, I would die.

  He stretched me out below him, planting my arms above my head, growling when I would move them and pinning them with a hand. I squirmed as he stroked me with his free hand, starting with my cheeks and nose, collaring my neck and caressing every part of my chest, carefully circling my breasts. I arched my back and thrust my breasts forward. He chuckled.

  “Ægir, touch me. It’s not fair.”

  “Mine,” he answered.

  I whined and twisted in his grip. He draped his weight over my legs, dropping his hips until his cock brushed my tender folds. He stroked over me this way, a small smirk lurking around his mouth and a heated look in his eye. Pinned and covered by his great bulk, I could not hope to escape. I did my best, fighting to get away from the inexorable movement of his cock stroking me, sometimes rubbing the exact greedy spot I needed him to rub, sometimes not. It drove me mad.

  “Fuck me,” I snapped, baring my teeth at him. He chuckled in my face. He always liked when I turned wild. I twisted this way and that, only succeeding in rubbing my aching nub against him just the right way. Tinder caught, lightning struck, and I convulsed in the grip of pleasure.

  “Ægir,” I moaned. “Please. I need you.”

  He lifted my legs, tossing them over his shoulders. Bending forward he folded me almost in half. The head of his cock probed my entrance and I stiffened. He was so big. How did he ever fit? He worked himself in slowly, and another wave of pleasure rolled up from my toes, half blinding me. I relaxed and he slid in. My channel burned as it stretched around the giant invader. My moans were wordless now, increasing as Ægir’s cock settled deep inside me. His grip on my calves was cruel, his cock utterly dominating my body and senses, but his eyes were gentle.

  “Mine,” he murmured. “Mine.”

  And then he thrust hard, bottoming out, filling the deepest part of me. My limbs froze, my back arching as pleasure burned up my spine. Our lovemaking felt like the Change, a giant hand shaping and stretching me, making me anew. Only it was not magic. It was Ægir.

  I survived his brutal thrusts, pleasure sizzling and singing in each vein. I did not know when my climax began or ended.

  He pulled out and knelt beside the bed, dropping his face between my legs.

  Dazed, I craned my neck, but all I could see was the top of his head. “What are you—”

  His mouth covered my cunny and I cried out. His tongue lapped at my secret places, long, smooth strokes that drove my pleasure higher.

  But then he pressed fingers against my arsehole. The area between my bottom cheeks was slick from my wet cunt.

  “No,” I warned.

  His teeth glinted when he smiled, two long incisors glinting like fangs. His thick finger probed my bottom.

  “Mine,” he said. I writhed, trying to get away. He jerked me back, his fingers biting into
my thigh. His shoulder leaned against my leg, pinning and pressing me into the bed.

  “No,” I fought in vain. My climax was building again despite the finger invading my arse. Or perhaps because of it.

  His tongue sought my folds again and soon I screamed my pleasure to the ceiling. Ægir nipped at my inner thighs, rubbing his stubbled face on the sensitive skin. A second finger pushed into my arse. His thumb dipped into my cunny and he rubbed the thin membrane that separated his thumb and fingers. My climax went on and on. Still holding me pinched between thumb and forefinger, he sucked on my clit and I spiraled higher. My heels drummed his broad shoulders.

  Then he spread my juices over my stretched bottom hole.

  “No,” I mumbled, too overcome to push him away. He set his cock at my anus and growled, making me shudder. I could only lie there, limp from many climaxes, as he breached my tiny back hole. Somehow the tight rings stretched around him. One inch. Another.

  “Muireann,” he murmured. “Muireann.”

  I sighed and let him in. No one had claimed me there before, and no other ever would. My body, my heart, my whole self, belonged to no one but him.

  For a heartbeat he rested, seated balls deep inside me. His fingers found my slippery clit and I groaned. I did not want to climax again. Especially not with him inside me like this, claiming me in the basest possible way. He would possess me utterly.

  But I could hold nothing of myself back from him. Like a true wolf, he was a patient hunter, touching my folds, teasing the tender flesh until I rocked unwillingly against him. Milking his cock despite myself. When my climax finally came it was gentle but long, rolling waves that rippled my belly. Ægir watched in fascination, groaning as I grew impossibly tight around him. If I could, I’d push him out. My hands did push at his chest until he reared over me and pinned my wrists to the bed. Then he started to stroke. Sweat beaded on my forehead and his. He was holding back.

  “Take me,” I challenged. “Make me yours.”