Given to the Berserkers: A menage shifter romance (Berserker Saga Book 4) Page 2

  “Ye look well.”

  My skin tingled as his gaze swept up and down my form, hungry.

  Clearing my throat, I sought for a change in subject. We had little chance to converse beyond a look, a small touch, a carefully worded greeting. The entire pack watched over my sister and me, for we were their hope for the future. But of all the giant, forbidding warriors, only Fergus could make me laugh with his antics, and the sly, silly comments that were innocent enough, but I knew were meant for me.

  “I hoped you would find me today.”

  “Yes?” He took a step forward, eyes lit.

  “Yes,” I backed away, blushing. “I know I am not to speak to any of the warriors because I am unmated, but I wanted to speak to you.”

  “Well, then, lass.” He kept moving forward, and I kept backing away. “What did ye want to say?”

  No matter how much distance I put between us, he stalked me slowly. At last he cornered me against the berry bush. My heart beat faster, fluttering like a bird taking flight.

  He raised his hand and offered me a white flower.

  Warmth rushed through me. Smiling, I took hold of it by the stem. “I knew it was you.” Lately, I’d found the little white flowers everywhere. A small token that could’ve been carried by a bird, or fallen from a tree, but when I found it on a stump in the clearing near our new home, or a rock in the stream where Sabine and I washed our clothes, I’d guessed it was a gift from the red wolf. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. But I need to tell you...I wanted to warn you. You should not come so close to me. It’s not safe.”

  He tilted his head, as if touched at my worry. “I dinnae care about my safety.”

  “I do. Please, Fergus. I don’t want the others to find you here.”

  “They willnae catch me. I am small, yes, but I am fast when I’m the wolf.”

  I started to protest and he held a finger up, almost brushing my lips. “Do ye want to spend our time arguing?”

  “No.”

  “Then let us speak of other things.”

  There was so much I wanted to ask him, so much I wanted to know. I often imagined him while I lay awake at night on my pallet, pressing the white flowers he left for me to my lips.

  “Does it hurt to Change?”

  “Not into the wolf. The beast, our Berserker form, is brought on by extreme emotion. That can be painful, if only because of the desire to fight and rip apart the very earth. But we shall speak no more of becoming monsters.” His voice was light, but I knew he worried about the beast taking over his mind. All Berserkers were once men who were cursed with the magic of the Change. They could control the shift from man to wolf, but after decades of fighting, they eventually lost control of their monstrous third form: the beast.

  To me, though, Fergus was no monster. The red-headed warrior could’ve been a boy from my village, grown up into a man I could love. I’d always imagined such a suitor courting me. We’d have a country wedding, and a sweet, simple life with each other and our children.

  My life had changed but I held onto my small, sunny dream. Whenever I was with Fergus, I felt it could still come true.

  I swung off my cloak and wrapped him in it.

  “Walk with me?” I invited. We weren’t supposed to be near each other. War could break out if we were found together, but the pull between us couldn’t be denied.

  As we ambled along the woodland path in silence, his hand clamped on my wrist over my long sleeve. I let him lead me deeper into the forest. My heart thumped, eager to find a secret place where we could strip our souls bare and be with each other, without any threat of being found hanging over our head.

  “You’ve grown a little these past few moons,” he said in his beautiful, lilting voice.

  “Gotten fat?” I asked with a coy look.

  “No. More’s the pity. I like a wee bit of meat on my woman’s bones.”

  I shook my head.

  “I jest, Muriel. You’re beautiful.” His fingers brushed my cheek.

  Blushing, I arched away from his caress. I’d spent nights longing to feel his fingers on my skin, pressing the white flowers to my lips. But I’d been warned not to let a Berserker touch my skin. Fergus knew this as well. In the spell of the dark, quiet forest, and each other’s presence, it was easy to forget the rules.

  “Where are we going?”

  His hand dropped to take hold of my wrist again. “Not much farther.”

  Finally, we reached a place where little light broke between the thick branches of the towering pines. A stream ran through the heart of a grove of ferns, and here Fergus stopped. Hands spanning my small waist, he lifted me and set me on a broad, flat stone splitting the rush of water, and stepped onto it with me. Before I lost my balance, he tugged me closer, holding me in his arms like we were a couple dancing at a midsummer fair.

  “Fergus,” I kept my eyes on the hard ridge of his muscle along the center of his chest. Lean and wiry, he was the smallest of his Berserker pack, but still two heads taller than me and much, much stronger. Stronger than any human in existence. “We shouldn’t be together like this. It is forbidden.”

  “Muriel,” the way he breathed my name sounded like a song, a prayer. “Look at me.”

  “I cannot,” I kept my gaze averted. “Sabine says I must not look any members of the pack in the eye, or risk giving great offense.”

  “Any other warrior in the pack, aye. But not me. Never me. Look at me, wee one,” He gave a command and tipped my chin up with a finger.

  He had eyes of a storm far off over the ocean. When the beast was upon him, they turned gold with an otherworldly light.

  “I have things to say to ye, but I cannae say them yet. I haven’t the right.”

  Now my cheeks were turning pink as heat poured through me in response to his touch. “Can you not say a few of them?”

  “I would that I could. Some day, soon, I will. I’ll tell ye all ye want to hear, and more.” His promise sent warmth through my body. We had an ocean of difference between us--he was a Berserker of the Highland pack, and I was a captive and ward of their enemies; he was a werewolf, I was not--but in that moment we shared the same breath, the same heart.

  Bowing his head, his forehead brushed mine, and his voice dropped to a deep rumble that spread tingles through me. “If I had my way, I’d show ye my thoughts as well as tell ye. Ye ken?”

  I opened my mouth, and his head jerked.

  “Do ye hear that, lass?”

  “No.”

  “Your sister calls for ye.” His tone held regret.

  “I have to go.” I whispered.

  “I know.”

  I pulled free a ribbon from my dress Head bowed, I wrapped the green cloth around his bicep.

  When I stepped away, he caught my hand, pulled me back. I leaned into him, my eyes closed, and his lips brushed mine.

  I smiled the rest of the walk home.

  *

  For the past two moons, I’d lived with Sabine in the great lodge her Alpha mates—Ragnvald and Maddox—had built for her. I wasn’t surprised when I ran to the doors and they opened before me. A dark-haired warrior, clad only in leather breeches and the tattoos that covered his bare chest, waited inside.

  “Muriel,” he greeted me. “I’m glad you’ve returned. Your sister Sabine was worried you’d lost your way.”

  “I did for a moment,” I told the bland truth; Fergus had led me off the path I knew. Wolves can smell a lie. “Where is my sister?”

  “I was about to leave to look for you.” My older sister stood over a great table spread with drying herbs. “Where is your cloak, Muriel?”

  “I must have left it in the woods.” Another half truth. Sabine frowned, and I dug in my pouch for the herb that had been my excuse to leave that morning. “Here is more feverfew. I followed the stream until I found a whole patch.”

  “Ah, so your path crossed a stream. No wonder Ragnvald couldn’t track you.”

  “I would’ve eventually,” Sabine’s second
mate, Ragnvald, entered the lodge behind me. “I just wanted to be sure I found her before the other wolf did.”

  “There was another wolf out there? Berserker?” Sabine asked.

  “I smell him on you, Muriel. You must have come close to him.”

  I kept my head down and washed my hands. If I said anything, they’d scent a falsehood, and I could not give Fergus up.

  “Too much coming and going between ours and the Highland Pack,” Ragnvald muttered.

  “Wolves come about to catch a peek of the women who can mate with Berserkers. I know I would risk my life for a glimpse,” Maddox said to Sabine, and he tugged a lock of her honey gold hair. She slapped at him, and he laughed.

  Ragnvald stayed serious. “ No more excursions out of the lodge alone,” he told me.

  “I understand,” I said in a docile tone. Throughout my life I’d found I could quietly go my own way if I acted sweet and obedient.

  Sabine was too stubborn to be submissive. “That’s ridiculous,” she frowned at Ragnvald, hands on her hips. “Spring is here. You cannot keep us cooped up.”

  “Just for a little while. Muriel will be leaving us, soon.”

  “I thought she was to stay with us, and Fleur with our sister Brenna.” Part of the truce meant that the four of us were split evenly among the packs. Brenna was mated to the Highland pack’s Alphas, Sabine to the Lowland Pack’s. Soon, Fleur and I would have to take mates. No one had spoken of this to me, but I understood it all the same. We were still captives, even though we were treated with respect and care.

  “We need to talk. Muriel, will you come here?” Ragnvald pointed to a place before him on the raised stone hearth. I went and sat with my hands in my lap. The very picture of meekness. The blond Alpha hadn’t questioned me about the strange wolf he’d scented in the woods, and I was eager to keep from raising suspicion. One slip of my tongue, and my secret meeting would be revealed. I would get in trouble and might be disciplined, but Fergus would face the Berserker’s wrath. His punishment might be death. The packs were very strict when it came to preserving their few potential mates.

  I kept quiet as Ragnvald studied me.

  “What’s going on? What is this about?” Sabine set down her mortar and pestle. Maddox hovered close to her, and she gave him a sharp look.

  Ragnvald spoke directly to me. “As you know, all Berserkers met at the Gathering last week.”

  I nodded.

  “Many things were decided there, so we might keep the peace between our packs. Two nights hence there will be a great competition. It will be a great contest of force, battle readiness and strength. Muriel, you watch the Games. Sabine and all the Alphas will all be there to oversee them, but you will be the guest of honor.” He paused as if waiting for a response.

  “I see,” I said, even though I didn’t. “I am happy to go where the treaty decrees. As always, my sister’s and I are grateful for your hospitality and protection.” Never mind that I was little more than a captive, my marriageability making me a useful pawn in the negotiations between the warring packs. If I kept quiet and remained obedient, I might be awarded more freedom. Perhaps I would see Fergus at these Games, and we could find another chance to slip away together to talk.

  “The competition will decide who is the greatest Berserker among all the packs. There is a prize for the winner.”

  I thought I understood. “You wish me to attend these Games so I may award the prize?”

  The two Alpha’s exchanged glances. Ragnvald came to where I sat on the hearth and crouched in front of me.

  “Muriel,” he said gently, “you are the prize. You’ll be given to the winner of the Games, and he will claim you as his mate.”

  For a moment the world spun. The fire burned too hot; my body flushed as if with fever. Ragnvald was still speaking, but I heard only a buzzing noise. Fergus’ voice floated through my head, a whispered promise.

  Sabine’s sharp voice cut through the ringing in my ears.

  “So she’s to be given away like a trophy? Bound for life to a man who wins her in a contest? You could not give her a choice?”

  “We would if we could. This is what was agreed after many nights of debate,” Ragnvald explained. “The man who wins her will be the most powerful warrior in the pack. He will be worthy of a bride.”

  “Bride. Such pretty words for ‘chattel’. You may as well be auctioning off a piece of meat,” Sabine raged.

  “Sabine,” Maddox started.

  Sabine whirled on him. “And if she refuses?”

  “She cannot refuse. There is no escaping this. You knew this was coming. We all did,” Ragnvald continued in his patient, level tone.

  “She might disappear in the night. Stranger things have happened.”

  “We will be keeping close watch over her. Both packs have sent emissaries to guard her.”

  “We’ll be watching you, also, Sabine. So you will not help her run.”

  Sabine snorted in disgust. Pushing away from the table, she kicked the chair so it clattered to the floor.

  Maddox followed Sabine around the room, shadowing her as she paced in a temper.

  “We leave tomorrow to reach the place where the Games will be held,” Ragnvald told me.

  “If she hates the warrior, can she refuse him?” Sabine asked.

  Ragnvald hesitated.

  “She can’t can she? She could be given to the most awful, brutish wolf in the pack, and can do nothing to escape him. Bound for life.” Sabine spoke bitterly.

  My tongue still lay heavy in my mouth, unable to move. My heart hurt. Had Fergus known what was decided for my fate? He must have had some idea. Perhaps his intent was to win the Games.

  “Sabine,” Maddox came behind his mate and slid his arms around her. She twisted to face him.

  “It’s not fair.”

  “It is as fair as we can make it.”

  “It’s fair for every warrior in the pack. But not for her.”

  “Perhaps Muriel will decide that.”

  Sabine shook her head. With one final look at me, she ran from the room, Maddox following close behind. I heard them murmuring in their chambers at the far end of the lodge.

  I still hadn’t moved, though my hands were white where my fingers threaded tightly together.

  “Muriel? Do you have anything to say?”

  “My sister is very angry.”

  “She wishes her life was not directed by forces outside of her control. She is a force, like a great raging river. Sometimes she moves the rocks from her path. Other times, she must eddy around them. One day she will be powerful enough that nothing will stay in her way.” Ragnvald’s handsome face held a thoughtful look.

  My sister had magic. A witch’s prophecy foretold of a special race of women that carried a strain of magic to make them prime Berserker mates. So far, Sabine and Brenna have proved the prophecy true, and they expected Fleur and I to have the same ability. That was why they were so eager for us to marry within the pack.

  “I always knew I must mate a Berserker,” I ventured. Ragnvald seemed to listen, he sat with a half smile, as if imagining his fiery mate. “I was hoping I would at least like whoever was chosen for my mate.”

  “Little sister, know that I would’ve made things easier for you, if I could. But the Games will satisfy the warriors in both packs. Otherwise there would be war between us.” My sisters were happily mated to the Alphas of their respective packs. Sabine, for all her arguing loved Maddox and Ragnvald, and Brenna had borne her two Alpha mates children. War would threaten the love and new life, so fragile and dear to us all. “Already there are arguments and infighting over who will be awarded a Berserker bride. It’s only a matter of time that a warrior challenges another for you and they fight until they destroy each other. We are doing all we can to avoid that.”

  “They are fighting...over me?”

  A smile played around his mouth at my innocence. “You must understand what hope you give these men, Muriel. You and your sister
s are the only women we’ve found to temper the curse. All the gold, all the bounty these warriors have fought for in the past century, nothing compares to the chance to win your hand in marriage. Believe me when I say these warriors will count it an honor to fight and bleed for you.”

  I couldn’t think of what to say to that, so I stared at my hands, wishing I were braver, or stronger, or more clever tongued like Sabine.

  “So whoever wins these Games I must take as a mate...like a husband?”

  “In werewolf packs, a mate is more than a husband or a wife. The bond runs closer. This man, whoever he may be, will pledge himself to you and your care. He will be a devoted partner, protector, and leader, and will do everything within his power to keep you safe from all harm. Even die for you.”

  I swallowed hard. Berserkers lived like warriors, fierce mercenaries always ready for battle. I'd watched them training in their camps. They fought constantly, practicing, readying themselves for war. They were rough and brutal, given to violence at any moment. It was their nature.

  I would be given to such a man.

  “All right,” I said finally. “I understand. Thank you.”

  “Of course, little sister. We will be watching over you, and will do all we can to help you.” Ragnvald rose, and I knew he was eager to get to the bed chamber, and Sabine. The arguing had subsided, and given way to…other sounds. “Know this. Whatever wolf wins you, we can promise, he will treat you well. If he does not, he won’t just answer to us. The Alphas would sit in judgment upon him, and he’d be lucky if we kill him ourselves, rather than give him over to the pack for them to tear him apart.”

  *

  Later that night, I woke to harsh voices arguing. Sabine and her two mates slept on the far side of the lodge. Try as I might to keep a blanket muffling my ears, I often overheard their lovemaking.

  Tonight there was more anger than love.

  “You don’t understand,” Sabine was saying. “The twins are not like Brenna and me. They were coddled, sheltered. We kept them safe at all costs.”

  “We will do the same.” Ragnvald sounded amused. “You think a Berserker cannot shield his mate from all harm? Muriel will be safer with a warrior from the pack than with any other creature on this island.”