Owned by the Berserkers : A menage shifter romance (Berserker Brides Book 5) Read online

  Owned by the Berserkers

  A Menage Shifter Romance

  Lee Savino

  Text copyright © 2018 Lee Savino

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Also by Lee Savino

  Excerpt from Night of The Berserkers

  Yseult

  Tristan

  Yseult

  Ivar

  Yseult

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  About the Author

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  Visit www.leesavino.com and join her mailing list to receive a free Berserker book...too hot to publish on Amazon!

  To the readers and fans of the Berserker series, who encouraged me from the beginning to write more…

  1

  Fern

  Cold. Fingers of ice digging into my bones cold. I ran through the darkness, dodging shadows, my only companion my pounding heart and clutching fear.

  A shape loomed ahead, blocking my path. Clad in rags and white mist, the wraith extended its skeleton hand—

  “Fern. Fern, wake up.”

  I gasped, clutching at air and shooting up, nearly bashing into the person leaning over me. Juliet's worried face hovered close. “Shhh, Fern, you’re all right. We’re all right. We’re safe.”

  The lodge was dark but warm, the fire embers glowing on the hearth. The shadows along the roughhewn logs were friendly. Slowly, I relaxed. My back ached, my muscles cramping as if I had been running for my life.

  “Here,” Juliet offered me a cup, and I wet my lips a few times before I let the liquid slide down my knotted throat.

  “Bad dream?” Juliet stroked my back. Even though she was only a few years older than me and the rest of the orphans, she cared for us like a mother.

  I nodded and didn’t say more.

  “You seem to have a lot of them,” she murmured, but didn’t pry, and I was grateful. I’d had nightmares since I could remember. At least this one had come at night and stolen only my sleep.

  Juliet’s touch and the water helped calm my pounding heart. All around us, the other girls lay sleeping. As one of the older ones, more woman than child, I had my own pallet. It was colder than sharing a bed with my orphan sisters, but at least my night terrors wouldn’t wake them.

  “Let me know if you ever want to talk about them,” Juliet said before giving me a squeeze and slipping back to the big bed she shared with the three smallest girls.

  Her kind touch lingered as I lay back down, but I swallowed despair. My dreams were my own, I could never tell her or any other. They were too real. Even now, when I closed my eyes, I had to fight not to go back into the darkness of the dream, where the skeletal hand still reached for me.

  “I’m safe,” I repeated. “I’m safe.”

  I lay awake until morning, which came all too soon. The lodge filled with the chatter of the young women and girls. Since being taken from the abbey by the Berserkers, we lived together in a lodge, guarded carefully by the great warriors.

  “Fern, You’re so quiet today,” chirped Violet.

  “She’s always quiet,” Meadow smiled at me. I tried to smile in return but couldn't. My jaw ached from gritting my teeth to keep from shouting of all the horror I had seen. Since rising, the dream had beat at me, threatening to burst from my lips. But I didn’t dare speak.

  I’d had dreams, visions, since I was very young. My mother died soon after I was born, my father was unknown, but a family had taken me into their care. At least, until I shook with the Sight and told them what I’d seen. Then they’d called me a demon child and left me on the stoop of the orphanage. I learned quickly there not to speak of what I saw. Not to speak at all.

  But my dreams were becoming worse. How long could I hide them? How long before they came to me in the day?

  I jumped when Juliet touched my arm. “You all right, Fern?” and continued when I nodded, “Could you go to Laurel’s lodge and bring back bread? I’d go, but the little ones will want to come, and it’s too cold.”

  I nodded again. The walk would do me good.

  “Be sure to warm up well by her fire,” Juliet produced a basket and cloak, and walked me to the lodge entrance. “There’s no snow today, but it is very cold.”

  I opened the door and froze at the piercing howl that greeted me.

  “What was that?” Juliet gasped, shivering. She shrank back as one of our guards came inside the door.

  “It’s all right,” the Berserker warrior said in his deep, rasping voice. He loomed over us, bigger than any man we’d ever seen, but his face was kind. “It’s just a wolf that lives in the canyon.”

  “That was no wolf,” Juliet said sharply. My eyes went wide. I’d never heard anyone speak so boldly to a Berserker.

  The warrior just smiled. “You’re right. There are two beasts down there who were once men, but no longer. Now they haunt the woods below.”

  I sucked in a breath as the howling started again. This time a second voice joined the first, the two twining together to make a melancholy tune.

  “Have no fear, little one,” the warrior murmured to Juliet. “You’re safe with us.”

  Juliet shook her head, a strained look upon her face. I noticed she would not meet the warrior’s eyes, even though he gazed on her with a soft look on his face.

  “Will you be all right walking to Laurel’s?” she asked me, and I nodded.

  “She will be safe.” The warrior straightened. “I will personally escort her.”

  At that, Juliet huffed and met the warrior’s eyes long enough to glare at him before turning on her heel and hustling back into the lodge.

  I blinked up at the warrior, who chuckled.

  “Come now.” He opened the door and swept out a hand. “The wind is brisk but if we go swiftly, the walk will keep us warm.”

  I started down the path, bracing for the haunting sound from the slopes below. The Berserkers had built our lodge on a high mountain ledge only accessible by a bridge. I followed my large escort past two more guards and padded down the wooden bridge and into the woods beyond.

  At one point, the path forked, and I hesitated.

  “This way, little sister,” The warrior called back to me and waited for me to catch up. “The other way leads to a ravine, an
d a treacherous climb down the mountain. The view is beautiful, though,” he further explained. He seemed content to talk. Of all the warriors, he was the most friendly. Jarl was his name.

  “Juliet seemed upset by the howling. But other than that, she is well?” Jarl’s tone was easy going, but I sensed his interest.

  I nodded.

  “Good. Please tell her she can ask for anything she wishes. We are here to see to her needs. Her and all the unmated spaewives,” he added, and I smiled to encourage him. “We can bring clothes, furs, wood for the fire. I can fetch bread for the lodge, too, though I guess you wish to travel yourself to collect it, if only to see your other friends.”

  I nodded again.

  “Haakon and Ulf’s mate makes the best honeycakes and breads,” Jarl mused. “Do you know what bread Juliet likes best?”

  I shook my head, and he shrugged. “No matter. We will bring back them all, and I will see which one she prefers.” And with that, he started whistling, his long legs eating up the path in an easy stride. I scurried to keep up, wondering what it would be like to be so strong and powerful, to speak and have others listen, to walk in the woods and not be afraid.

  The path took us straight to a huge lodge connected to a low building. The smell of roast meat hit me, and I picked up my pace, outstripping even Jarl to dart eagerly through the door.

  Inside, a large spit turned over a hearth fire. Rows of tables held trays and platters filled with food, and in the middle, ruling over it all, was the queen of the kitchens herself, my friend Laurel.

  “Fern,” Laurel cried, throwing up her floury arms. She wiped her hands before coming to grasp mine. “Oh, you are so cold. Come warm by the fire. I have tea and fresh cakes.” She tugged me inside. I startled when a large shadow moved from the corner. A huge warrior, half of his face mottled with hideous scars, loomed over us. I was too frightened to let out a squeak.

  “Ulf,” Laurel smiled up at him. “Hazel’s mate might be by soon to pick up bread for her and all the lodges near hers... will you ask him to tell her I need more fennel and wintergreen?”

  “Of course, little love,” he rasped and stooped to give her a quick kiss before heading outside to greet Jarl.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Laurel bumped my foot with hers. “He’s very sweet.”

  I gave my own nod and smiled, hoping I didn’t give offense to her or the scarred warrior.

  “How is everyone? I should go for a visit, but every day I have requests for more bread.” My friend fussed about the hearth, but I knew she loved her work, and was proud to produce enough bread and baked goods to feed everyone on the mountain. “Are the girls doing well in their new home?”

  I nodded, accepting the food and cup she brought to me.

  “Please, eat,” she nudged me before seating herself nearby. She accepted my silence, chattering enough for both of us. “Sage and Willow and I wonder about all of you, kept so far away. We know it’s wise to take precautions but,” she shrugged. “The pack isn’t as wild as it once was. We’re making them more civilized.”

  I thought of the howls coming from the chasm and picked my cake apart.

  “Fern, are you all right? You look worried.”

  A door to our right scraped open, and in wandered another tall, broad-shouldered warrior, handsome and unscarred. Laurel’s other mate.

  I kept my eyes on my plate as they murmured to each other. The berserker bond allowed two warriors to mate with one woman. What would it be like, to love and live with two men? To be the one they cherished above all?

  I had come close to finding out, once. Before all was lost.

  I scooped the crumbs of the cake I’d picked apart into a pocket, to scatter later for the birds. When Laurel’s mate moved on, I rose and took up the basket I’d brought.

  “I suppose you must be going,” Laurel sighed. “Please, tell Juliet to visit anytime. Perhaps you could bring more of the unmated spaewives.” She hopped up and started filling my basket with fresh loaves. “And you’re welcome, anytime. I can always use more hands in the kitchens. Or someone to talk to while I work.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not that you talk very much. But I talk enough for both of us.”

  I returned her smile, and started for the door, where I hesitated.

  “Laurel?”

  She jerked up from the bowl where she was washing her hands, surprised at the sound of my voice. I understood. I surprised myself, but it was too late now. I cleared my throat. “May I have some extra loaves?”

  “Of course.” She bustled about, wrapping up a few more. “Do you need another basket?”

  I shook my head. She looked curious but didn’t pry. I waited until she’d turned to the ovens to secret them under my cloak. I didn’t know how I would sneak them off the mountain, but I’d find a way.

  Jarl walked ahead of me on the way back. When we came to the fork in the path, I hesitated.

  “What is it?” he stopped when he realized I wasn’t following.

  My mouth went dry. I’d spent so long holding my tongue, I barely remembered how to talk. “Juliet,” I blurted the first thing I could think of. “She wanted me to get her some wintergreen. It grows along here.”

  He frowned but jerked his chin to indicate we should go. I scurried down the path, praying I’d see the low green leaves along the path. All too soon the trees fell away and we were on a rocky ledge, but, lo and behold, there was wintergreen, growing in the cracks of the lichen covered stones.

  I dropped to my knees, making a show of gathering the leaves, favoring the ones with red berries.

  “Does Juliet use this for tinctures?” Jarl asked, and when I nodded, he crouched and picked some too.

  I moved to another clump. “Don’t stray too close to the ledge,” Jarl warned, but let me go where I would.

  When he wasn’t looking, I drew out the extra loaves and threw them over the edge, before quickly returned to the path.

  “Are you sure we have enough?” he asked, placing his leaves in my basket.

  I just smiled at him. It was sweet, how much he cared for Juliet. My throat closed, remembering what it was like to have two warriors dote on me the same way.

  As we returned on the bridge, the howls echoed below our feet. The wolves seemed to have ventured closer to the lodge. Perhaps they would smell the bread, and, even if they preferred meat, they’d know that someone was thinking of them. It was a small gesture, but it might give them hope.

  2

  That night, belly full of bread, I lay in bed and remembered the night the Berserkers came to the abbey to take us.

  Then

  I woke in the orphan’s quarters to a noise. —a child’s cry.

  The nuns were not very patient with us; none but Juliet, the youngest of the order, showed the orphans any kindness. Whoever cried out would only find comfort with another orphan.

  My mind still sick with my dreams--large shapes running about the abbey, chasing and terrorizing me and my friends--I padded from my bed, past the sleeping girls, and left the dormitory.

  Sorrel stood in the hall with one of the young ones, Violet. The older girl put a finger to her lips. I nodded and held out my hand for Violet’s.

  A crashing noise made us all freeze. Sorrel whipped around even as I shrunk back with Violet. Outside the window, dark figures streamed across the lawn.

  “Go,” Sorrel whispered harshly. Half-carrying Violet, I ran back down the hall.

  More crashing sounds—windows breaking. Inside the dormitory, girls screamed.

  “Not that way,” Sorrel ordered, and pushed me another way, down a hall the orphans weren’t allowed to roam.

  “What is happening?” I gasped.

  “We’re under attack.” Sorrel sounded grim, but calm. We raced along, frightened cries following us. I wanted to ask why the abbey would be attacked—there was no treasure here, nothing but a few nuns and a corrupt friar, and a dormitory full of orphaned girls. I saved my breath for carrying Violet, who was skinny, but still heavy
. At least she was too sleepy or shocked to cry out.

  Sorrel led us to the far side of the abbey. We passed through another hall of windows, and I gasped at the sight of huge warriors, stalking to and from the dormitory. They entered empty handed and left with orphans in their arms or slung over their shoulders. The girl’s night shifts glowed in the moonlight.

  “They’re taking us.” I grasped Violet tighter, and she me.

  “Not if I can help it,” Sorrel muttered. We ran along, my breath aching in my chest from Violet’s weight.

  “Sorrel,” I gasped, just as a crash came ahead. Warriors kicked in the door of the nun’s quarters and entered. Shrill screams burst out with the light.

  Sorrel and I pressed against the wall, hoping the shadows would cover us. A moment later, the nun Juliet stepped onto the lawn, flanked by warriors.

  In my arms, Violet whimpered. A warrior’s head snapped our way.

  Sorrel tugged me back the way we came. A shout rose from the lawn behind—the warriors had spotted us.

  “Sorrel,” I gasped as we raced down another corridor forbidden to the orphans. I didn’t even know where we were, but it seemed Sorrel did. “Where are we going?”

  “A hiding place. This way.”

  Behind us, glass shattered and bootsteps crossed the flagstones. The warriors were coming.