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

  Sorrel cursed under her breath, words the nuns would whip us for even knowing. I almost laughed at Sorrel’s boldness, but my chest was too tight.

  What would they do if they caught us?

  Following Sorrel, I nearly stumbled down a stair. A few more feet, and Sorrel drew us inside a dark room. The scent of herbs and honey bathed my face. Great barrels were stored here in the cool damp, along with the herbs used in distilling the spirits.

  “Hide,” Sorrel ordered. “Under the table.”

  I crouched, pulling Violet against me. Sorrel knelt nearby, working up one of the flagstones.

  My lungs still heaved from running while carrying Violet. “We can’t escape.”

  “I’m not going without a fight.” To my utter shock, she pulled out a rope, a bow, and arrows. I knew she was a hunter—the best of us at setting traps to catch rabbits in the gardens but did not know she had such a cache of weapons. If she was caught. the nuns would beat her, and the friar lock her in the tower until he found someone to buy her.

  Rising, Sorrel strung the bow and plucked it, readying an arrow.

  “They may not find us here. We’ll hide, then run to the village,” she whispered, and I nodded, scooting further under the table. It was a large, heavy piece, made of wood.

  Bootsteps sounded in the hall, and I shrank back into the shadows.

  “This way,” a rough male voice said, startling in its strangeness. Other than the friar and his visitors, there were few men who came to the abbey.

  “There’s no one down there.”

  “I scent a few.” Boots paused outside of the door. “Smell that?”

  “Aye. Sweet.” The voices grated my ears.

  Move past, move past, I prayed, but when the door swung open, I wasn’t surprised. God did not heed the prayers of a sinful orphan.

  Two sets of boots entered. I pressed Violet’s face to my breast.

  “Come out, little rabbit…”

  “Easier prey than rabbits.” The warrior chuckled as he came forward. A slight movement from the shadows of Sorrel’s hiding place, and the whisper of an arrow. The warrior roared.

  “She shot me!”

  The other warrior chortled. “Serves you right for calling her a rabbit.”

  The first warrior growled.

  “Trouble?” Another pair of boots came in the room. My heart sank.

  “Thorsteinn,” the first warrior sounded surly. “This is not your prey.”

  “Not yours either,” Thorsteinn was amused. “More like your hunter. She shot you?”

  “A trifle.” A snap and the arrow fell to the ground, broken and useless under the warrior’s boot.

  “Stay back,” Sorrel’s voice wavered only a little. “I have more.”

  “Bitch,” the first warrior growled. A grunt and he staggered back. I scooted further into the shadows, realizing the warrior Thorsteinn had punched him.

  “Get out,” Thorsteinn said calmly. “This one belongs to me and Vik.”

  “We were here first!”

  “Get out,” Thorsteinn repeated, and the hair rose on my arms. He barely sounded human.

  Grumbling, the two warriors left. For a long minute, Thorsteinn didn’t move. I held my breath in the silence.

  A shadow came to the door, entered. Four legs and golden eyes. A wolf. It ducked his head, peering at us under the table. With sniff, it joined the warrior facing the corner where Sorrel hid.

  “Stay back,” Sorrel repeated, sounding stronger.

  “No need to fear, little warrior,” Thorsteinn crooned. The wolf stalked forward. “We didn’t come to harm you.”

  “I’ll shoot you.”

  Thorsteinn just chuckled.

  The wolf moved between one breath and another. A strange wind blew through the stillroom, sending shivers down my body. Every inch of my skin prickled with instinct. Sorrel gasped.

  “Got her,” another male voice came, raw and gravely in the dark. “She’s a fighter.” A man’s bare feet and legs came past the table. There was no sign of the wolf.

  “Easy,” Thorsteinn murmured. “Hush, little warrior, I’ll bring your weapons. We’ll let you use them again, once we get you to safety.”

  Sorrel swore.

  “Thorsteinn?” Another warrior called into the stillroom.

  “Dagg, Svein,” Thorsteinn greeted them.

  “You found your prize.”

  “We did.” Thorsteinn spoke over Sorrel’s muffled curses. “But there are two more under the table.” With that casual comment that sent my heart plummeting to my feet, Thorsteinn and the other warrior left. Sorrel’s angry voice receded down the hall.

  The new warriors came to stand in front of the table. I kept a hand over Violet’s mouth but couldn’t stop my own frightened sigh. In the heavy pause that followed, my heartbeat skittered to a stop.

  “We hear you cooing, little dove,” one of the new warriors said. He crouched and golden eyes found mine. Shock reverberated through me at the fey glow of his gaze. “I am Svein. We’re not going to hurt you.”

  I shook my head.

  “We do not wish to scare you, but you are coming with us.” He rose, and I jerked in surprise as the table rose above my and Violet’s head. Two warriors peered down at us. Svein had light hair and a narrow face. The other’s brown beard went down to his broad chest, and he echoed Svein as he reached for us.

  “You’re coming with us.”

  3

  I woke with a start. The lodge was quiet, filled with the soft sounds of slumber. My friends lay all around. All but Juliet. I frowned. It was not like her to be missing. She even gave up her own bed in order to share one with the little ones

  Gathering the cloak, I made my way to the door.

  Outside, a full moon shone over the frostbitten ground. We’d had snow that melted in the few days past, but it was still bitterly cold. My breath fogged the air in front of my face.

  A low moan made me whirl. I crept along the side of the lodge. There, lying against the wall, lay Juliet, wearing nothing but her shift and a pelt around her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed in the moonlight.

  I knelt and put a hand to her hot brow. Even in the cold, her body burned.

  Closing her eyes, Juliet turned her face away.

  “Leave me,” she croaked.

  I left but returned with a cup of water. I knew what plagued her. The same fever had come on me in the past.

  Juliet drank some, her eyes darting to mine over the cup. “Fern, please. Do not tell anyone.”

  I nodded. If any warrior found out she had the spaewife fever, the Alphas would demand she take a mate.

  “Thank you,” she closed her eyes again. Her brow wrinkled.

  As I left, I noted she clutched a posy of crushed wintergreen leaves. Perhaps trying to cover the scent of her heat with the minty smell. For her sake, I hope it worked. The Berserkers had the sharp senses of wild beasts.

  When I slipped to the front of the lodge, I realized why Juliet had escaped notice. The guards had left their posts close to the lodge. Laughter came from the bridge ahead where they had a fire going. They were playing the game of polished bones, laughing and betting. A few passed a cask back and forth.

  I drew my cloak around me and crept along the slope. When throwing the slop pot over the hill, I’d noticed a narrow path among the boulders. The path did not go all the way into the ravine, but it might help me cross under the bridge, to the place where I’d thrown the bread.

  I made my way carefully down the side of the mountain, crawling over frostbitten rocks. The moonlight lit my path the whole way. When it came time to cross under the bridge, I waited until a cloud covered the bright light before hurrying along the path. The warrior’s voices echoed from high above, but no one noticed my escape, or caught my scent.

  By the time I reached the lower ledge, my body was stiff with cold. I searched a while, wondering if I was in the right spot, far below where Jarl and I had searched for wintergreen. Finally, I stood shiv
ering, staring up at the white face of rock where I was sure I’d stood and thrown the loaves over. The clouds passed over the moon until finally the light broke free, and I could see again.

  At my back, the briars were broken. At my feet, a trail of crumbs. Someone had taken my offerings of bread.

  I pulled a few more loaves out of my pack and placed them on the stone before heading back the way I came.

  4

  If any of the girls noticed I slept late the next morning, they didn’t comment. Juliet also woke late in the day and went about her usual duties with her face weary, full of strain. I whispered to Meadow, who proposed she and I take a group of the youngest girls to Laurel’s home. Juliet agreed with relief.

  At Laurel’s hearth, I gathered more bread, not the sweet biscuits or honeycakes but harder buns good for travel. No one noticed, though I felt a bit guilty. I left some wintergreen for Laurel in exchange.

  On the walk back, the girls chattering like a flock of sparrows. They threw back their hoods and skipped along, glad to be out of the lodge, even with a warrior escort. It was a fine, if cold day. Berserkers walked ahead and behind us. Most of the girls ignored them, but I felt their gaze rest on us.

  My friends and I had come a long way from the abbey, where we were unwanted orphans, to being precious prizes of the Berserkers. The Alphas did their best to protect us, decreeing death for any warrior who ventured to close too an unmated spaewife. Our guards were carefully chosen. We could visit our mated friends—as long as we took an escort, and returned to the lodge on the isolated reaches of the mountain. We were caged birds, treasured by our captors, coddled and kept safe until the day came when we came into the mating heat.

  When that day came, we’d be expected to take a mate. Berserkers were powerful warriors, fearless and strong and able to stand against almost any enemy—except their own battle lust. The magic that gave them supernatural powers destroyed their sanity. Only a spaewife, a woman with her own magical powers, could tame a Berserker.

  No wonder the Berserkers hoarded me and my friends like precious jewels. Over the past century, they’d watched their own friends go mad. We were their only hope of avoiding such a fate.

  Of course, for some warriors, it was too late.

  The howls broke out as we crossed the bridge. My stomach flipped, and my sight blurred.

  “No,” I whispered. “Not here.” I fought the vision as it claimed me, stealing away my reality.

  The corpses advanced as one, a silent army. The monsters ran to meet them, filling the world with howls—

  Suddenly I was falling, falling. I blinked and came back to myself, amid the girls screaming.

  I opened my eyes. My feet were on the edge of the bridge.

  “Fern, don’t move,” Meadow begged. The other girls looked stricken. Violet hid her face.

  I swayed in the wind. The howls rose up below me. Then strong arms closed around me.

  “I got you,” a warrior’s voice, rough in my ear. Jarl. Behind us, Berserkers closed around the rest of the spaewives. Each warrior had his weapon out.

  “Everyone off the bridge,” a warrior ordered. “Into the lodge.”

  The faster Jarl moved, the louder the howls became. They seemed to follow me. For the last few hundred feet, the warrior broke into a run. My stomach tilted.

  Jarl kicked open the lodge door. “Juliet!”

  Juliet appeared, face pale. “What happened?”

  “She had a fit.”

  My friend hurried to clear a spot on the big bed, and Jarl laid me down.

  “Has this ever happened before?” the warrior turned to the former nun.

  I shook my head frantically.

  “No,” Juliet answered for me.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course, I’m sure.” Juliet let tartness enter her voice. “It probably was a bit of dizziness brought on by crossing the bridge. We’re not used to such heights.”

  I lay back in relief as Juliet fussed over me. I kept her secret; she would keep mine. “She’ll be all right. You should go help the others. I’ll see to her,” Juliet said.

  “Very well,” Jarl said. His rough voice didn’t reveal his mood but before he stalked away Juliet turned to him and said in a softer tone, “Jarl... thank you.”

  A nod and he was gone.

  A minute later, and the lodge was full of chattering spaewives. Juliet held her tongue, closing the curtain to separate us from the rest of the room and turn curious girls away.

  I sat with my head in my heads, drinking the tea she made me only at her prodding.

  At last, my older friend sat down beside me. “You had a vision, didn’t you? The dreams have followed you into the day.”

  I clenched my jaw. It almost hurt not to speak and tell of what I’d seen.

  If my visions took over, and I could not hold in my words anymore, would the Berserkers consider me cursed and drive me out? Or just kill me?

  “You know you can tell me anything.” Juliet lowered her voice. “I won’t speak of it to another soul.”

  I pressed my lips together. I couldn’t tell her the truth.

  There were some who believed a witch could speak of the future, and make a vision come true. Witches were destroyed for less.

  I spent many nights at the abbey, praying I was not a witch. I felt cursed. If I had any power, i’d make the visions stop. Just to be safe, I’d never speak of them, in case telling them did cause them to become real. If what I saw was Fate, I would not help it along.

  After a time, Juliet sighed and left me in privacy. I heard her telling the other girls to leave me alone.

  I closed my eyes and willed the dreams not to come.

  5

  Then

  One moment, Violet and I were hidden under the table. The next, the table was gone, and we were in our captors’ grasp. The bearded one took Violet, lifting her from my unresisting arms. The light haired one took me. Svein, he was called.

  I stared at his face as he hugged me to his chest and missed the blur of the hallway as my captor carried me away. He leapt from the broken window and landed lightly on the lawn. The one named Dagg strode into the forest with Svein on his heels. The thick canopy swallowed up my view of the abbey’s tower. Just like that, the home I’d known for so many years was gone.

  The moonlight filtered through the leaves, dappling my captor’s face. He moved with absolute confidence through the night, as if he could pierce the very shadows with his glowing eyes. Whenever we ran through a patch of moonlight, his light hair glinted. I couldn’t stop staring at him. It wasn’t that he was handsome—though he was—but he seemed so fey. As if he’d crossed the boundaries between our world and the next and come with his own purpose—a purpose that somehow included me.

  Perhaps I stared because I wondered if it was all a dream.

  But no, this was real. Dagg and Svein ventured into the deep woods, and branches brushed my bare legs. Svein tucked me closer. His heart beat close to my ear. He was human, this warrior with a narrow face and sharp blade of a nose, firm lips half caught between a smile and a serious expression as he ran through the glade.

  “You’re a brave, but quiet one,” he said when he caught me looking at him. “Not going to cry out?”

  I didn’t answer. It was no use. We were kidnapped, taken to who knows where. At least he seemed gentle.

  A light flickered in the distance. Both warriors headed there, threading through the thick bracken before emerging into a circle of other warriors. I jerked upright in Svein’s arms, coming out of my trance. These warriors had planned and executed a raid on my home. My friends were all captives, or worse. What had happened to them?

  My stomach twisted, sick with worry. The other warriors studied me, curiosity written on their rugged faces.

  A low rumble in Svein’s chest made me glance at him. The light in his eyes pierced me. “Don’t look at them,” he ordered, and shifted me in his arms, turning me so I’d have to crane my neck to see anyone
else. “Keep your eyes on me. I will keep you safe.”

  I tightened my grip his leather jerkin and said nothing.

  “Svein,” a rough voice greeted my captor. “Where is Dagg?”

  Svein jerked his head towards the forest. A moment later, the dark-bearded warrior joined us, slinking silently from the briars. Violet lay sleeping against his chest.

  He handed her off to another warrior and a tremor ran through me.

  “No harm will come to her,” Svein promised, his voice velvet in my ear. He crouched near the fire but kept me in his arms.

  The bearded warrior joined us, dropping to his haunches close by. With his large beard and thick, dark hair back in a thong, he looked like no other man I’d ever seen. Not to mention his great size and fluid strength. He picked up a stick from the ground and turned it over in his hands thoughtfully, before tossing it onto the fire. All of these warriors larger than an ordinary man. They looked like they could break me in half without trying.

  I shivered, and the bearded warrior frowned at me.

  “Easy now.” His deep voice resonated to my very bones, smooth and caressing. “There’s nothing to fear.”

  I looked down, remembering Svein’s mandate not to look at the other warriors.

  The light-haired warrior cradled me closer. “It’s all right. You can look at Dagg, and me, but no other.”

  I felt the bearded one’s eyes on me.

  “I can carry her next,” he said to Svein.

  “She’s not heavy. Barely any weight to her.”

  I wanted to speak, to ask where my friends were. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched another warrior cradle Violet. He’d wrapped her in a fur pelt of some sort. She slept, oblivious to the warrior’s large hand resting on her head, shielding her face from the fire.

  At last, I had the courage to sit up. Svein let me, though his firm grip told me he wouldn’t let me off his lap. I waited until my heartbeat steadied to look him full in the face. His eyes crinkled, and he cocked his head to the side.

  I licked my lips. “My friends. Sorrel…” My mouth couldn’t draw enough moisture to speak.