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

  Slowly I made my way up and up, fixing my eyes on the narrow doorway at the top and not at the dizzying distance to the stone floor. If the men working below watched our progress, I did not know.

  When we reached the top step, I hesitated.

  “Go on,” Hawk ordered, and I stumbled into a dark, empty-smelling room. The roof here was better preserved, held up by a great trunk in the center of the room. The only light came from a broken wall.

  My captor brushed past me, tugging the leash to bring me to the center of the room. He tucked the end of the rope under his boot as he knelt to build up a fire.

  I took a chance to study the room. A small table holding nothing but a great horn. One side of the room, the farthest from the door, was a giant bed heaped with animal pelts. Large enough to fit the giant warrior and a whole bevy of women. I backed away as far as the leash would let me and turned to examine the broken wall. It was in the rough shape of a window, but someone had torn out the stones to widen it large enough for a man to fit through.

  I inched closer to the opening. If I rose to tiptoe I could see the wild sea without, the waves crashing against the base of the stone keep far below. But this tower was separate from the keep, suspended on little more than a few stone buttresses and air.

  “You won’t find escape that way.” Hawk cut into my thoughts. “Just a long, long drop to your end on the rocks.” He gave me a sardonic glance before turning back to coax the fire.

  I bit my lip. He didn’t know my powers.

  But he was right. Until I was sure I could find my way back through the storm, I dare not climb through the window and jump.

  I plucked at my damp sleeves, staring out the window. There was nothing else in this room to look at besides Hawk or the bed.

  I didn’t fear Hawk. He took too much care around me. The Sea Wolf had a loyal servant. Would he inspire the same loyalty in his slaves?

  The logs were snapping and crackling in a meager blaze when Hawk rose, my leash in hand. Holding my gaze, he secured the rope around the great pillar in the center of the room. “In case you decide you’d prefer the long drop.”

  I shook my head. If I leapt from the window, I would not die. But he didn’t know that.

  Once he secured my lead, Hawk headed for the door. I followed but the rope wouldn’t allow me to reach the door.

  “Wait!” The firelight made me bold. “Why am I here?”

  He smirked over his shoulder. “You’ll know soon enough.”

  I took a steadying breath. “You said I belong to the Sea Wolf. Where is he?”

  “Don’t you worry. He’s coming.” With a nod at the window, he left.

  I couldn’t help stretching my tether as close to the window as it would go. A storm had rolled up, rain beating the sea-washed stone. The giant barriers to this hidden cove loomed so large, I could scarce believe the boat fit between them, slipping like a thread through a needle.

  What a strange place this was. Stormy and full of mist but the longer I tarried the more I knew this place was not the otherworld. It was real.

  My hand worked at the knotted collar, but my fingers were clumsy.

  I had a knife hidden in my bodice, but it was too soon to draw it out. Even if I cut myself free and escaped out the window, I was weak and tired and could not fly all the way home.

  No, best to stay and rest, and learn the rest of the story.

  That’s right, daughter. That’s the way.

  As I stared out the window, a shape detached itself from one of the giant rocks, and leapt through the mist, landing on another outcropping that brought it closer to the keep. The dark shape rose up again and leapt from rock to rock. But no, it couldn’t be. The distance was further than any man could jump.

  The wind howled and shook the rocks. The sound was like the eerie dirge I heard earlier—was it only this morning?

  The storm made the sea surge, water fingers tipped with foam reaching, grasping, failing to pluck the shape right off its path. But the figure kept coming.

  The clouds parted enough to limn the bright head with silver light. The Sea Wolf was right outside the window, making his way to the keep, leaping and climbing like a creature from myth imbued with supernatural powers.

  The man reached the base of the keep. There was no way an ordinary man could scale the wet-slicked stones. But this was no ordinary man.

  Pay attention, daughter. Remember the story.

  I retreated until the lodge pole was at my back, but kept my eyes fixed on the window. My heart was already in my throat, so I felt nary a tremor of surprise when the great golden head appeared. Battle roughened hands gripped the broken stones, pulling another free and tossing it behind. And so, the Sea Wolf entered his keep and the tower where his man had imprisoned me.

  When he straightened, the top of his head threatening to brush the roof where it met the old wall. He strode in, filling the room with his muscled bulk. The room shrank and I shrank along with it. With light, sure steps he approached. My hands touched the rough wood behind me. No escape there. I clenched my fists and teeth, raising my chin to hold his gaze.

  He stopped when there was nothing but a hairsbreadth between us. His rich honeyed scent drenched my senses, drugging me. I swayed.

  His face was broad yet spare, like a sand colored rock face scoured clean by years of sun and wind. His brows and hair were the same tawny gold of the tow-headed conquerors from the north. He was a Northman, and this an old Viking hold.

  I stared up at him, unable to speak, unable to move. My heart thumped loudly. By the way he tilted his head, I swore he heard each beat.

  His hands were large and scarred, but gentle as he tilted my head up to examine the rope collar. When he withdrew and marched to the fire, I slumped against the wood post, weary after holding myself upright and courageous in the thrall of those bright eyes.

  Crouching, he tossed a few more logs onto the blaze. When his boot steps returned, I kept my head down until a tug and a snap told me he’d cut the rope that tethered me. Slowly he drew me up, forcing me to scramble to my feet if I didn’t want the rope to choke me. Without looking back, he pulled me along to stand before the bed. The wood creaked as he settled himself.

  I kept as much distance as the tether allowed.

  He patted his knee and looked expectantly at me.

  “No,” I muttered and cleared my throat of cobwebs. He wasn’t forcing me onto the bed even though he easily could. Nor had he thrown me down, tore my gown and claimed me in a captor’s right. His care made me bold. “No,” I said louder and planted my feet, calling up the haughty iron of a chieftain. “You will explain to me why I am here.”

  He tilted his head again and I recognized the movement and glowing eyes as wolf’s, wary and confident all at once.

  “Where are we? Why did you take me?” I challenged.

  A rough scrape on the step made me whirl. Hawk paused in the door, wearing his typical smirk. He hesitated, looking past me to his leader and raising the earthen jug he held.

  The Sea Wolf nodded. Before I knew what was happening, he reeled me in until I stood between his legs. His thighs were thick as tree trucks, wider than my hips. I clenched my hands before I reached out to use them to steady me.

  Hawk set the jug down on the table. “The men have built the fire. There’ll be meat, soon.”

  My golden-haired captor grunted. Hawk touched his forehead and was gone.

  The Sea Wolf looked at me and pointedly at the jug. It seemed I was to act as a serving wench.

  But I was grateful for something to do. And a horn would keep his hands busy and away from me.

  Aware of his gaze on my back, I went to the small table and filled the horn. It took all my will to pivot and walk the short distance back to the bed. I held out the drink as soon as I could, but the Sea Wolf had another idea. Instead of taking the horn, he drew me forward, a sardonic humor in the curve of his mouth. The closer I grew the more the honeyed scent enveloped me. Mead tempered with the s
harp tang of salt.

  Using the leash, he maneuvered me between his knees. Closer, closer, he reeled me in, until I practically rested on his great chest. Reluctantly I raised the cup to his lips. He drank deeply, eyes on mine, and pushed it back to my lips.

  I shook my head. I did not want to drink and lose myself. He stared at me and I lost my nerve. Dropping my eyes, I drank a mouthful.

  “I’ll get more,” I muttered. I could not take much more of this. I swayed and almost stumbled on my way back to the table. Danu curse him! A man had never affected me thus. His very presence intoxicated me.

  It was time. Before I lost my nerve, I slipped my left hand in my bodice for my knife. One strike, and my captivity would end.

  The next time the Sea Wolf tugged me forward, I let my hair fall in a thick curtain between us. I held the horn to his lips as the fingers of my free hand closed around knife hilt.

  “Drink,” I whispered. He gulped and pushed the horn to my lips. My eyes held his as I sipped. When I lowered the horn, my hand was at his throat, the knife point set into the hollow below his jaw.

  For a moment his eyes glimmered—did he guess?—and my arm weakened. Then I pressed the blade and drew it across. Fast. Hard. As if he were a goat or deer marked for sacrifice. A quick, clean kill.

  I had forgotten there’d be so much blood. A red spray hit me in the face. I choked and fell back, sputtering.

  The knife hit the stone floor with a clang. Then there was nothing but a horrible, gurgling sound. The Sea Wolf’s life ebbing out.

  Pain wrenched my middle. I stood with head bowed and hair tangled over my face and counted my heartbeats. One. Two. Three. Long enough for a man to die.

  But when I risked a glance, a golden blaze caught me fast.

  No. Impossible.

  The warrior raised a hand to his wounded throat. He pulled it away and examined his dripping fingers with mild curiosity. He shrugged back his red-stained hair. Blood pooled on his chest, ran in rivulets between the muscles. Another heartbeat and another, and the ruby waterfall lessened to a thin trickle.

  The Sea Wolf was not dead. I had failed.

  The horrible gurgles stopped, replaced by a deep chuckle. The man who should be dead was laughing at me.

  My knees knocked and I slumped to the flagstones, weak as if my own life’s blood had run out.

  That was how Hawk found us. He clattered up the steps, a platter of roast meat in his hand and stopped short to stare. When he’d left we hadn’t been covered in blood.

  I cowered against the pillar as the Sea Wolf kept laughing, laughing.

  Hawk recovered quickly. With his own guffaw, he set the platter down and dusted his hands.

  “I leave for a moment and she tried to kill ye?”

  The Sea Wolf stopped chuckling and shrugged.

  “Ah, well, I’ll fetch water to wash.” He started to turn and spared a glance for me, curled into a frightened ball. “Tried to get the best of him, did ye?” Hawk mocked. “Takes more than a blade to kill this one.”

  I wiped the blood from my mouth. “W-what happened? What is he?”

  “Ask him yourself.”

  “I can’t.” I looked to the Sea Wolf, who sobered. “You can’t talk, can you?”

  “He used to,” Hawk cleared his throat. “Shall I tell her?” He asked his leader and at the Sea Wolf’s nod, explained, “A witch cast a spell on him long ago. The spell was meant to give him great power.”

  “The strength and speed of a wolf,” I whispered.

  “You sure about this?” Hawk asked and his leader growled. “The spell worked. But then it turned into a curse. No man can kill him but if he puts a foot on land, he becomes a mindless beast.”

  “Not till the raven leads you home.” I repeated the lines from the story, my heart twisting. There was such sadness in the Sea Wolf’s eyes.

  “She’s a canny one, I’ll give you,” Hawk grunted to his leader. “But I still don’t like it.”

  “Wait—” I called to Hawk. But the warrior with the feather in his ear turned on his heel and disappeared down the dark stairs. Leaving me to face the man I’d tried to kill.

  I winced when I heard his booted steps coming my way, even though I expected them.

  My warrior captor raised me up and I trembled. He used the rope around my neck, winding it about his palm until I stood nose to nose with him. Would he turn the collar into a noose and strangle me? I was easy to kill.

  Unlike him.

  The rope was slick with his own blood. So was the knife he held—my knife he’d retrieved from the floor. It was narrow enough to slide between the rope and my neck.

  “Make it quick,” I said, and closed my eyes. The blade rested against my pulse for one heartbeat. Two. Three—

  A sharp jerk and the rope hit the floor, followed by the knife.

  He’d cut off the collar.

  The booted steps retreated. And when I opened my eyes there was nothing to stop me from rushing to the window and leaping to freedom.

  Nothing but curiosity.

  I peered around the pillar at the giant warrior. He’d filled the horn and taken it to drink by the fire. The reddish light lined his profile.

  “What are you going to do with me?” He could not speak. Had he forgotten how? “Will you kill me?”

  He tipped the horn up, hiding half his face a moment. With a weary movement, he faced me. Pressing his lips together, he shook his head.

  “Why am I here then? Do you need a witch to break the spell?”

  He stared.

  I took a step towards him. “You must know I am not that witch. I am not powerful. Not like my mother. She told me—”

  But a scrape on the stone silenced me. Hawk was back with a bowl of water and a cloth.

  “For you, my lady,” he said with a mocking bow. When I didn’t move, he raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t your mother teach you to put things to right?”

  He meant for me to clean up all the blood. My mess. My attempt at murder.

  Gathering my hair back from my face, I nodded.

  Hawk rolled his eyes and he headed back out the door.

  “Wait,” I cried. “Tell me his name.”

  Hawk stopped with one boot on the step but didn’t turn around. “Told you,” he muttered. “He’s the Sea Wolf.”

  “That’s what they call him,” I said, exasperated. “What’s his name?”

  Hawk shrugged. “Don’t know.”

  “You don’t know his name?”

  “He don’t know. He don’t remember it. Forgotten how to speak, too.” Hawk tugged his ear and smoothed the feather hanging from it. “If you want him to talk, you’ll have to teach him. Might as well name him, too.” And he left.

  I covered my face with my hands. The fire crackled, a warm, welcoming sound. If I was a captive, at least I was comfortable.

  For now.

  Ignoring the boulders in my stomach, I took up the cloth and wet it. “So, it’s up to me to name you?” I murmured as I wiped my lips and face clean. “Mac Tíre. That’s what the villagers call a wolf. Though you’re not from the country, are you? Can’t put a foot on land.”

  When I was done washing, I carried the bowl of water to the hearthside. The Sea Wolf watched me calmly. He had no anger for what I’d done. No, he’d been amused. I should be frightened to be cooped up with a madman but felt at ease.

  I went right up to him. “I can’t think of a good name for you, but mine’s Muireann. Shall we cry truce for now?”

  He tilted his head in that way of his and I knew he was silently laughing at me. It was better than hearing him laugh out loud.

  “I guess I better clean you up.” I pursed my lips and went to my task, wiping the blood I’d spilled from his shoulders and chest. He was broad and well-formed, though his muscles were broken by more than a few scars.

  “I suppose you can be hurt?” I asked, dabbing timidly at the ridged flesh. His hand covered mine and drew it along, up over his chest to this throat. Under
his hand and mine, the cloth wiped at the skin until the red stain was gone. He tipped his head back, showing me the new white scar running along the underside of his jaw. The cut I’d just made had healed completely. Indeed, it looked like it had been made long ago.

  Not even my mother’s magic could do this. I swallowed and started to turn away.

  He grabbed my wrist and gave a grunt. It sounded like “No.”

  “I’m just getting more water.”

  “No.” He took the cloth from my hand and maneuvered me to stand in front of the fire. I stood firm, facing him, even though my head came only to the middle of his chest.

  His large hands fastened on the collar of my gown. He ripped it in half. It fell away. A pause and he ripped my under shift away too. He’d stripped my stockings and my boots when he took me. Now I was naked, with nothing to wear.

  I suppose this was fair. I had tried to kill him with a hidden knife.

  Despite the fire, I shivered. Now what?

  The warrior stepped back, his bright gaze roaming over me, leaving warmth in its wake. The fire in his eyes burned hotter than the one in the hearth. My heartbeat tripped over itself, but I did not want to run. I wanted to stay and touch him. Explore the ridges of his muscles and scars. Bathe in his honeyed scent, let it intoxicate me.

  He was wild and more brutal than my intended bridegroom. Why did I feel this way?

  Gentle fingers tugged my wild hair back from my face.

  My nipples furled. Did he think me ugly or fair?

  Did I care?

  Pushing me away from the hearth, he prowled around me. I stepped out of my dress before it’d ensnare my feet. I had nothing to wear but pelts, now. The thought didn’t bother me as much as I should.

  “I’m not a witch,” I started. “I mean, not like my mother. She was the one with all the power.” The warrior paced around me again and I stiffened. My spine prickled in warning—a wolf was hunting me.

  Not just hunting. He’d caught me.

  “I know nothing of curses or lifting them. I would help you if I could—”

  Grasping my hand, the Sea Wolf drew me to the bed. This was it then.