Mated to the Berserkers: A Menage Shifter Romance Page 4

  “Dog attack,” I glared. “Her family told us it was a wild dog.”

  “Dog, wolf…” Yseult shrugged.

  Samuel and I exchanged glances. Was it possible our Brenna had been mauled by another werewolf? And not just any sort of wolf, a creature like us, tainted with magic--a Berserker in the grip of madness?

  Yseult’s eyes gleamed. “Yes, you begin to see now. Did you ever ask yourself how she survived such a brutal attack? Did you ever wonder why?”

  Samuel and I blinked, and looked to Brenna, who seemed just as confused as we were.

  “Are you saying the reason she was attacked…and the reason she survived…there’s a connection?”

  Yseult’s smile broadened.

  “You speak in circles, witch. Either tell us, or leave.”

  “I will tell you, when I know for sure. But I want a favor in return.”

  “Favor?”

  “The usual.”

  Samuel waved a hand. “The pack will fulfill the terms. Daegan and I will no longer take part.”

  “So faithful to this woman already? I never thought I’d live to see the day a woman tied you to her.”

  Samuel ignored the witch’s jibe. “The pack will see to your needs.”

  “They are not also faithful to your Brenna? Or do you not share her?”

  “Nay,” I growled. “We will never share her.”

  “Pity,” Yseult sniffed. “When the time comes to collect my favor, I should love to have another to help me…entertain the pack. Your wolves are so voracious…especially the scarred blond—what is his name?”

  “Siebold,” Samuel and I answered together. The large Viking had a sadistic streak that matched Yseult’s blood craving. Of course she would favor him.

  “Siebold, yes,” Yseult purred. “I should love more time with him. Perhaps I could take him with me…”

  “No,” I said. Knowing the witch, she’d probably ask Siebold directly, and he might take her up on the challenge, so I added, “We would not allow him to go.”

  “Pity.” Yseult didn’t look too put out. “I shall have to wait until solstice, then.” She smiled at me, probably recalling the last solstice, when Samuel and I took her together, while the pack watched.

  Sure enough, an image appeared in my mind unbidden-the witch’s body naked and writhing under me. The memory felt cold compared with the time I’d just spent with Brenna, even though it was the same act. There was no love between Yseult and I.

  I turned away, wondering at the warm feelings I had for the dark-haired woman on the dais. Was it love?

  “Our woman is hungry,” Samuel said to Yseult. “You may take your leave.”

  “As you wish,” Yseult said in a sour tone. We hadn’t insulted her outright, but only just. The witch deserved it, even if it wasn’t wise to anger a powerful one.

  “One last thing,” she said, and I tensed for her parting shot. “You’ve claimed this woman as your beloved, your true mate?”

  I jolted at the use of “beloved”…the private name I had for Brenna. I wondered if it was possible the witch had plucked it from my thoughts.

  “She is ours.”

  “Is she, truly? I only ask because I did not see a claiming mark.”

  Samuel placed his hand on Brenna’s shoulder, where a werewolf would bite his mate during a breeding frenzy. “Human flesh is frail. She is ours, even if we do not mark her.”

  “Hmmm. How can you be sure, then, that she is your true mate?” Yseult held up three fingers. “Mating heat, mating bond, mating bite. Those are the signs of a werewolf’s true mate.”

  “What would you know of it?” Samuel demanded. Brenna couldn’t bond with us, and couldn’t survive a mating bite. She wasn’t a werewolf, wasn’t the proper candidate for a Berserker mate. But up until now, no woman had been. Yseult seemed to be testing our loyalty to our beloved, demanding proof of our love. Samuel looked frustrated. “Why do you care so much, unless you are jealous?”

  Yseult turned pale, but retorted in a biting tone, “I only wish to serve, Alpha. You approached me to find the one who would bring your peace. If she is not the one--”

  “She is the one.” Samuel wrapped his arms around Brenna, his giant hand palming her throat and covering the silver torc she wore for us.

  “Then claim her.”

  Samuel released Brenna and set her carefully aside. I sensed my Alpha was close to losing his temper again, and this time, no calming touch of our woman would stop him.

  “Yseult, perhaps it is time for ye to leave--”

  Yseult followed me, but whirled at the last second. “If you do not form a mating bond, there are other wolves who would love to take her.”

  “Out!” Roared Samuel, his back already hunched with a half change…not into wolf but into a beast halfway between animal and man.

  Yseult’s face paled a little, and she stepped back, turning it into a mocking curtsy at the last.

  “Until solstice.”

  *

  Ears still ringing with Samuel’s anger, I let Yseult go ahead of me, and followed her away from our sleeping chamber. She strode through the stone hall with her chin in the air, revealing no sign that she had been cast out.

  “Yseult,” I called and she paused, keeping her stiff back to me. “Tell me, is it possible for a human to mate with a wolf?”

  “A human? Pure? With all the magic stripped from them by their White Christ? No.” Her tone mocked.

  “So Brenna cannot be our true mate.” Even as I stated it, the wolf inside me disagreed. She is ours, the wolf insisted. Our true mate.

  I forced myself to meet Yseult’s gaze. The witch seemed to sense the wolf’s disagreement, and my despair. The expression on her face was kin to pity.

  “I will tell you, Daegan. I cast the runes before I came here.”

  “And?”

  “You and Samuel must find your true mate before the next red moon or the beast will consume you.”

  I swallowed. I didn’t know what that meant, and did not ask. It was possible Yseult herself didn’t understand. If she did, she’d tell us when she was ready, not a moment before.

  “I thought that Brenna would stop the madness.”

  “The runes fell as they would, Daegan.” Yseult said in a sharp tone.

  I searched her face. We’d been lovers once. Surely I could find some hint in her face as to what she felt.

  Nothing.

  I tried to reason with her. “You can see as well as I do…she soothes the beast.”

  “I am sorry,” she said. “But as I tried to tell Samuel, there are three requirements.”

  I nodded. Mating heat, mating bond, mating bite.

  “If you cannot accomplish those three things,” she shrugged. “She is not your true mate.”

  “But the wolf claims her as mate.”

  “What of the beast? The third, darkest part of you—does the beast accept her?”

  I shook my head.

  How does a man feel when he suffers a mortal wound, and survives only to be told he will be hung on the morrow? I swallowed.

  “Then what of Brenna?”

  “Her presence is helpful, I suppose. But unless the beast sees her as a true mate…” Yseult shrugged. “You ask me what will become of her? What happens when the beast takes control? To anyone around you, be they villagers, loved ones, or even armies.”

  She would not have to look into my thoughts to see memories of the killing fields. They were written across my face, in the scars of my body, and regret in my gaze. “They die.”

  She nodded.

  Every muscle in my body tightened.

  If Brenna was not our true mate, when the beast finally did consume us, she would not survive.

  An image flashed through my mind: a woman torn to pieces. Nothing left but a stain on the ground.

  I tasted blood in my mouth, and almost vomited.

  My insides twisted as I realized what Yseult was saying: if we loved Brenna we would send her away.
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  “How long do we have?” I rasped.

  “As long as it takes for you to succumb to the madness. You may have a moon. You may have a day. Or perhaps it will take a century.”

  “She will not live for a century. Humans do not live that long.”

  “Then you best find your true mate soon.”

  “Is that why you came today? To warn us?”

  “Yes. Believe it or not, I am a friend.”

  I didn’t believe it. She was an ally, never a friend. If she revealed information now, it was because it suited her purposes.

  Still, I thanked her gruffly.

  She returned with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. Her hips swayed as she walked away, a sight meant to entice. It made me feel sick.

  Ye heard?

  Aye, Samuel spoke through the bond.

  We have to tell Brenna. She should know.

  Silence.

  Yseult paused at the mouth of the cave, and I strode to catch up with her, unwilling to let her linger among the pack.

  “I’ll see you to the path.”

  She nodded politely. If she sensed my distress, she said nothing.

  Samuel?

  We’ll tell her.

  The nausea in my stomach spread through my body. The wolf wanted to race after the witch, jaws snapping, and drive her from the mountain for bearing this news. It did not understand the future, or the choice before us.

  It understood now and pain. And it wanted to retaliate.

  For a moment my vision blurred with the desire to kill something. I waited until it cleared, and ambled out to the bonfire. Yseult strutted past the watching wolves, a few in man form.

  “Hello, Siebold,” she purred as she passed the warrior. The big blond sat bare-chested on a rock near the fire, sharpening his sword. He turned to watch her go.

  “Siebold,” I called, and after a long look at the disappearing woman, he gave me his attention. “Ye are on watch until dusk.”

  Anger crossed the man’s face. He belonged to the group of warriors turned with Samuel in Northvegr to fight for a king called Harald Fairhair, long ago, before even I was born. I was only a pup when they came a-Viking from the cold lands, sailing here on dragon headed ships. For a seasoned warrior like Siebold, submitting to someone younger and less experienced must rankle the big warrior. I was more dominant, if only because of my link with Samuel. The Alpha trusted me.

  Neither of us trusted Siebold.

  “What did the witch want?”

  “Ye,” I couldn’t resist teasing. “Trussed on a frame for her to fuck, then eat. We told her no.”

  Siebold snorted.

  “You jest, Beta,” he said in the sour tone I’d heard Yseult use. Maybe I could convince Samuel to hand the belligerent wolf over to the witch for her dark purposes.

  “Don’t pout, Viking,” I called him by his nickname. “She’ll be back midsummer for her pound of flesh, and her pounding.” I winked at him. “Now trot up to yer post. I’ll send relief at sundown.”

  Provoked, he snarled, human lips peeling back from teeth slightly sharper than a regular man’s. Dropping the teasing act, I answered in kind. Teeth bared, I held his eyes, letting the wolf show a little until he dropped his gaze in respect for my dominance. Gripping his weapon, he rose and stalked up the mountain path to an overlook we used to keep watch.

  Crouching by the fire, I used a dagger to poke at the roasting meat, alternately eating and setting aside slices for Brenna’s meal.

  I was about to leave when a shout stopped me.

  “Beta,” Wulfgar prowled across the clearing towards me, worry crossing his blunt expression. “A word. We had a visitor.”

  “Hunters?” We were half a day’s run from the nearest village, but travelers sometimes strayed onto what we considered our lands.

  “No. One of us.”

  Anger flooded through me. “Werewolf?” I snarled. There was another pack close by, the Red Moon pack. We’d fought them years ago, establishing our right to the mountain. Perhaps it was time to revisit them, remind them of our claim.

  “Yes, the scent belonged to a werewolf,” Wulfgar continued cautiously. “But he did not smell natural born.”

  Hackles raised, I snapped. “Not Red Moon pack. Not unless they’ve decided to taint their ranks.” My lip curled at the expression. According to the Reds, Berserker wolves such as Samuel and I, and our whole pack, were abominations, born of evil. They’d sooner allow a human in their pack than a magic born werewolf.

  I knew this because my father had been one of them, until they cast him out because his true mate, a witch, bore him a child. Me.

  One thing the Red pack and I agreed on: Berserker wolves were dangerous. The magic that flowed in our blood inspired killing rage.

  Like the rage I felt now. “On the mountain?”

  “No. I scented him when I was on patrol, at the stream. Fergus tracked him to the edge of our land.”

  That settled me a little, but my lips curled away from my teeth, and I felt energy church through me, priming me to run, to hunt, to attack.

  To kill.

  In the past, if a werewolf trespassed, I’d have the pack run him down and teach him a lesson. Things were different. I had a woman to protect. Neither part of me, man or beast, would allow a threat to her to live.

  “I want him found and thrown in the pit. Alert me when it’s done.”

  “As you wish, Beta.” Wulfgar hefted his axe onto his shoulder, and barked across the clearing at three other warriors lounging in wolf form. “Patrol. Now.”

  Trouble? I caught the echo of Samuel’s voice coming to me through our shared bond. The magic that made us wolves linked our minds, and during times of strong emotion we could hear each other as clearly as if we were standing side by side.

  No.

  Silence reigned on Samuel’s side of the bond, but he did not assert his Alpha power, which could force any wolf to bow to his will.

  A possible trespasser. I sent wolves to deal with him. I pushed the words towards Samuel’s mind, sending a brief impression of my worry.

  I held back any feeling of anger. As Alpha, Samuel bore the brunt of the Berserker rage. When the beast took hold, he was fearsome, the most powerful of all of us. All well and good on the battlefield, but in times of peace, when the taint of magic took hold of our minds, he was the most vulnerable to losing control.

  Pacing around the campfire, I waited for my swirling emotions to calm.

  Daegan of Alba, Samuel spoke my name, and sent an impression of how he saw me. Dark-haired, with sinewy muscles under the furs I wore as clothes. A capable warrior. I sensed a bit of censure, as if he understood why I stayed away and tried to protect him, but didn’t like it.

  Come.

  I wish to wait a while. I will not be responsible for your loss of control. I protested.

  You are not responsible for my weakness, any more than Brenna is responsible for my strength.

  She soothes the beast.

  Aye. Samuel sighed. But perhaps it is time she meets it.

  Our conversation continued as I walked down the hall carved from stone. To show Brenna the beast could mean her death. But if we held back, and lost control, it was even more dangerous.

  Ye remember when she met us as wolves. She’d been terrified. I’d never forget the look on her face. She’d rather face death than us in wolf form. How much more will she hate us when she meets the monster?

  She doesn’t hate us. Samuel assured me. She accepts our wolf form. She will accept the beast.

  Ye have more faith in her than I.

  Perhaps.

  “I hate talking to ye when you’re like this.” I grouched as I entered our chambers. “You’re so damn calm. Ever since ye tried to become a monk, whenever we argue you have this infuriating tone. You’re so bloody reasonable.”

  “Living on bread and water in a monastery with nothing between my thoughts and madness taught me the value of reason, if nothing else.

&nbs
p; “I thought ye hated being a monk.”

  “Not enough to take back my old name.” Samuel had been Sigmund before his brief conversion to the White Christ. A good strong Norse name. “I spent most of a century as Sigmund, and most of this one as Samuel.”

  “Which do ye like better?” I was curious. We weren’t talking about the pressing matter of Brenna and our future true mate, but it was a relief to converse about mundane things.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m Samuel now. The old Viking is gone.”

  He was right. Other than his immense battle prowess, Samuel’s calm and control made him fit to lead. Wulfgar had some of the same qualities-the power of the raging beast, and a steadiness and strength to back it. Too bad Siebold hadn’t learned the same.

  “I wish The Viking—” I referred to Siebold by his nickname, “was gone. If we offered him to Yseult--”

  “No.” Samuel wouldn’t even joke about such a thing.

  I went to the dais, and nudged a few of the pelts aside and realized Brenna wasn’t sleeping.

  “Where is she?”

  “In the bathing chamber, washing her garments.”

  “Alone?”

  “A few minutes won’t hurt. I’ll set Fergus to guard if you wish. It’ll be good practice for him.” Samuel watched me pace nervously. “We can’t keep her cooped up forever. Much as I’d like to.”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “She must meet the pack, and learn our ways.”

  “Exposing her to the pack will help nothing. She’s not our true mate.” I snarled. “Even if we want her to be. You heard the witch?”

  “I heard.” Samuel sat on the dais, arms resting on his knees. Tall and broad, he looked like a giant compared to most men. The only thing that could defeat him was the rage within.

  I felt a stab of anger. The witch’s words made me feel helpless. The beast hated the feeling.

  “Why would the runes lie?” I kicked at the woodpile we kept to light the braziers, wishing it was an enemy. For a moment the bloodlust roared in my ears. “We need her. We can’t let her go, ye know that.”

  “I know.”

  I tore my hand through my hair, feeling my nails sharpen to claws. They bit into my skull, and I stopped moving, took a deep breath. Extreme emotion brought on the beast. This close to Samuel, I had to keep control.