by Selena Scott
“Stop,” I pleaded.
Ingrid had basically just enumerated a dismal list of all of my—murdered—childhood crushes. Troels had his skull sliced open in the most recent uprising. Erike had gone with a small group to stake out new land and never returned, although rumors of his death did. And Frode… he’d fought bravely when we were attacked some moons past. Too bravely—he’d gone up against the attackers himself, running far ahead of the slow others, and gotten himself a sliced neck vein for his trouble. Alas.
At the sounds of footsteps, Ingrid and I rose. Hildre’s eyes were bleary, as if rebelling against how the wind was tossing hair from his auburn head into them.
“Ingrid.” He gave my friend a strained but gracious smile. “I require a private audience with my sister.”
Ingrid gave me a sympathetic look as she left. “Of course.”
Unfortunately, I had a pretty good idea what my brother was about to say. And I wanted no part of it.
“What was that all about, the commotion at the main gate?” I asked in a pointless bid to divert us from the topic at hand.
Scowling, Hildre gave his hand a little wave. “Two newcomers easily overcame my soldiers. They claim they’d come to take part in the competition, but there is debate as to why the fight outside started. I decreed they may try out. They’ve already proven their strength, and it’s not as though we have a surplus of competitors at present.”
“The messengers left only yesterday, midday,” I reminded him. “With the homesteads they had to stop at on the way, they probably only reached the larger towns this morning past.”
“True,” Hildre agreed. “Regardless, I am here to speak of other matters. More important matters.”
As his eyes blazed into me pointedly, I tried to give a light giggle. “More important than ensuring new, stronger ranks for the Waterpaw clan?”
A hard edge went into Hildre's voice as his hands went to his bulging stomach to drum an impatient beat. “You know of what I speak, Dahlia.”
I turned away. “And you know where I stand on this.”
Hildre let out a sharp laugh. “Dahlia, you are far past the common age most Viking women join their verr in marriage.”
“Ingrid—” I began.
“Ingrid is as ridiculously picky as you are and is not my concern,” Hildre replied. “She does not have the future of our clan resting in her womb.”
“I don't see you hurrying to get another wife,” I snapped.
Seeing his eyes bulge, I fell silent, realizing my mistake. Never, ever was it a good idea to mention his late wife.
Sure enough, Hildre’s face was beet red, his breathing almost labored. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, forbidding, “I've been too lenient with you for too long.”
“Why?” I demanded. “Why must I marry against my wishes?”
“You know why,” he said.
“We're hosting a competition, recruiting soldiers, expanding our ranks,” I continued, even as I knew it was hopeless. “Is that not enough?”
“You know it is not,” Hildre said. “We lost many men during the uprising and many more during the battles. Even with newcomers and new additions, it will not be enough to secure the forces or the loyalty we need to stay in power. Father didn't get where he was just because of his might. He made strategic moves. He married off Helga and Liv, when they were mere babes. Securing our place as rulers before he died.”
“And now we haven't seen our sisters in over a decade,” I pointed out. “We don't even know if the marriages went through or not, if they are alive or not.”
Hildre just shook his head. “If Father had lived—”
“Had he lived—” I paused, repressing the shudder that went through me every time I remembered Father was dead, “we probably wouldn't even be in this situation at all. But I still don't see how—”
“Bo is a good man,” Hildre argued. “And while he is not the most... lively, he more than makes up for it with his lands and his clan’s might. If we joined with him... the Waterpaws would be in a very good place.”
“I shan’t marry,” I said, turning on my heel. “Not him and not anyone, not until I encounter someone at least halfway decent.”
I had moved off a few paces when Hildre called after me, “Your duty is to your family, Dahlia!” I kept on walking. “You'd better be careful. I swear, one of these days, I may just marry you off to a berserker.”
I stopped short. “You wouldn't.”
“Try me,” Hildre sneered.
I turned to gape at him, sure I’d see him avert his gaze. “But... they're—”
What was the word for the world’s most wild, dangerous, and rancorous band of bear shifters there were?
Hildre only stared at me indifferently. “You are leaving me no choice.”
I stood there for another few seconds, sure he’d change his mind, say something else—anything else. But he only stood there and stared at me coldly with a stranger’s eyes.
All at once, I could take it no more. I strode off.
I forced myself to take deep, calming breaths, not to let Hildre’s words affect me.
He was bluffing. Had to be.
No matter how angry my brother got with me, he wouldn't consider actually handing me over to a berserker, no matter the potential benefits for him and the Waterpaws. Although the berserkers were rarely seen, and lived mainly in horrific rumors and stories, what I'd heard about them was enough to make me hope never to encounter one in real life.
I shook my head firmly. No. I wouldn't even think about it. Wouldn't even let it cross my mind.
Ingrid rejoined me as I walked back towards camp and, not wanting to mention what Hildre had threatened, I said, “I hear the first part of the competition for the new recruits is happening this afternoon.”
For some strange reason, Ingrid's face had fallen despite this being exciting news.
“What is it?” I asked her.
“It's Toke,” she confessed. “Apparently, since you and I have been misbehaving as of late, he and the king have agreed that we shouldn't be present at the auditions, since no eligible men will be there anyway, just soldiers. So, it would be best for neither of us to be tempted, unbecomingly.”
“Tempted unbecomingly?” My low voice was laced with derision. I set my chin at a defiant tilt.
“That leaves only one thing to do—we definitely have to go to those auditions.”
I’d be damned if I let my brother threaten me and order me around. Even if he was the king.
CHAPTER THREE – AARIC
Soon, now.
That was all I could think of as all around us, churlish talk and delicious food were passed about the men.
Aye, soon we would have what was ours—our vengeance.
Although Chuld and Grise dug in, I refrained from eating a bite.
Instead of weakening me, I found hunger made me more focused—more hungry for victory itself.
From the wobbly wooden bench we sat upon, my trained gaze took in our opponents. One curly-bearded man strutted with a slow, overconfident gait that failed to disguise his left leg that had a slight limp. Another tall, muscled fellow had most of his top and bottom teeth bashed out—wouldn’t be much good in his bear form with all gums.
I cocked my ear, listening in on a conversation close by.
“What'll you do when you become a Waterpaw?” one bald, big-bearded man asked his companion. He was tan, fleshy, and mole-covered, especially next to his pale, smooth-skinned, thin-as-a-chicken-leg companion.
Thinny bobbed his head meditatively. “First—I'll bed the king's sister.”
“What?” Baldy cried. “Haven’t you heard? She’s refused every last suitor up until now.”
With a shrug, Thinny patted his crotch. “I can tell you this: she won't refuse my glory stick when she meets him.”
“Not unless I get to her first,” Baldy said, jerking his pelvis lewdly.
They chortled.
“And what make
s you think she'd accept either of you?” a higher voice demanded. It belonged to a youthful, beardless blond, fire surging to his round cheeks.
“When she sees me fight, of course.” Baldy licked his lips. “And I'm telling you. The curves on that one... enough to make a man die happy for getting just a few seconds with ‘em.”
As he let out a loud sigh, his buddies snickered. I turned my attention away.
Good. Let them be distracted by the temptations of women.
Although the description of this one had admittedly made my cock rise to attention.
The next few hours we spent thus, milling about the fires. Grise was pacing all about, annoying Chuld and me to death as he griped about how we should try to duck in, get a closer look at things, and we informed him, once again, that it was forbidden and too early for us to try our luck.
“Who knows?” Chuld pointed out. “In just a few hours we may be allowed to walk through the camp ourselves. Why risk it?”
This time, my brother's wariness was right. Although it galled me to wait, we had to go for the surer method of vengeance. We owed Mother, Father, and Sif that.
So, we waited and planned to wait, even once the battles started. I needed to see how these other Norsemen fought, how they bled. What their bear forms were like.
It seemed ages had passed when everyone finally gathered in a clearing where the grass had given way to mud. First up were Baldy and the blonde youth who had defended the King’s sister. As they transformed into their bear forms with showy roars and swipes, Grise yawned.
Minutes later, even I was looking away with an ironic smile as their lumbering swipes failed to land time and again. Even when they did hit, it seemed more a love pat than anything.
And this was the best the kingdom had to offer? Two fighters as desperate and useless as bears who’d been transplanted into the middle of the ocean?
Aye, this much was clear: these shifters had spent too much time feasting, bragging, joking, and fucking.
That and—they didn’t want to win as badly as my brothers and I did.
No one did.
The sparring rolled on as bear shifter after bear shifter set out against each other, the mud clearing growing hotter as more Waterpaw commoners pressed in to watch. My brothers and I watched in a communal quiet boredom. Grise went from yawning every few minutes to actually dozing off, while Chuld kept his gaze trained on the fights, his eyes working away furiously.
Chuld, even more than us, relied on ascertaining his opponents’ weaknesses and using them against them in the field of battle.
For my part, my attention only pricked up when an interesting foe finally stepped his massive, reddish-brown, muscle-ridden legs onto the mud. While his small sap of an opponent cowered and shook, he proceeded to transform into the largest bear I’d ever seen.
I elbowed Grise, who grumbled until he saw what he had been missing. Finally, a worthy opponent.
Seconds later, the ‘fight’—if you could call it that—was over.
All the reddish-brown beast of a bear had to do was stride up to the other wee bear and punt him. He landed on the ground meters away, unconscious.
As a low, shocked murmur rustled through the crowd, I found myself privy to the view of a fat, auburn-haired oaf that had to be a Waterpaw royal.
My teeth set together. Should have figured that even Waterpaw royals would deign to make an attendance. And yet, even craning around, I couldn’t see the scar-faced king we’d come all this way for.
“Where’s Skarde?” I hissed to Grise.
He shrugged. “Perhaps the old shit is taking a nap. How should I know?”
Back in the dirt arena, the massive victor was letting out a bone-rattling victory snarl, while a petrified soldier beside him called out in a thin voice, “Anyone? The trials need to continue.”
I stepped forward. “I can fight.”
The crowd rumbled with shock, then skepticism. Clearly they thought I was out of my depth.
I drew towards the massive shifter, holding eye contact even as his finger-sized fangs curled out of his lips and he lifted both hairy, muscle-coiled arms.
A whistle.
The soldier scampered back to the crowd, and I wasted no time in shifting into my bear form. I paused, rising to my full height on my hind legs.
Uh-oh.
Aye, the bastard was a good two heads taller than me.
Loki and Thor guide my strength together. I’ll need as much cunning as brawn for this brute.
My lips went back from my teeth and I let out a snarl.
This was for my murdered family.
The bear beast stalked forward, lifting a massive paw. Evidently, he intended to punt me, same as his last opponent. Too bad I had other ideas. I darted through his legs, burying my teeth in one as I passed.
I emerged seconds before he lumbered around, letting out an ear-shattering bellow. He charged straight for me.
Slashing out my paws was laughably useless; he easily plowed me right into the wailing crowd.
Chaos. Every last Waterpaw—men, women, kids—was shoving everyone else to get away. Mothers yelled for children, babies wailed for themselves, soldiers roared to keep order in vain.
In the background of all of it, almost like an afterthought, was plunk… plunk… plunk…
The beast coming to finish me off.
My back prickled with alternating flashes of pain and numbness. The big bastard had gotten me good, I’d give him that.
Aye, I needed to end this—and soon.
I forced my shaking legs to stand as he hulked a shadow over me.
Crash! went the ground beside me, where I’d been seconds before I’d rolled.
Now, as I ran from his next charge, I could smell his salmon-tinged sweat. He was close—too close.
I wheeled around with a leap.
This was it.
My foot paws pressed into his back and I flung myself face-first so that my teeth ripped into the back of his neck.
His whine grew shrill as my claws swiped around—into his eyes.
The ground rocked to and fro—no, my ground, his massive form. He bucked, heaved, and fell to one knee.
He threw himself backwards, his weight crushing me against the unforgiving mud.
I spluttered, groaned. So this was it, then. This was how I would die.
But I didn't let go. I held on with everything I had, locked my muscles into stubbornness.
Aye, as the crowd roared for my blood, and my brothers shouted, and the great beast slammed me onto the ground over and over again, I held on for dear life.
Only when the ground rumbled with a bellow and jubilantly stamping feet—the crowd’s, who apparently weren’t picky about who actually won—did I realize that the great beast was finally still.
As I collapsed to the ground, back in my human form, my gaze did somersaults in the air, landing on someone at random.
Or maybe not.
This someone wore a green woolen cloak that failed to disguise luscious, thick curves that made my cock twitch. This someone had a beautifully full ivory-white face bordered by auburn strands, and on it, rosy lips that pouted in a potential smile.
Aye, even as my vision faded, I knew—I wanted this someone, whoever she was. I wanted her bad.
CHAPTER FOUR – DAHLIA
What the...
As the man's eyes cut through me, heat erupted between my legs, taking over my whole body.
That gaze... like a knife slashing right through my clothes. As though he could see the dampening between my legs, my taut nipples.
For Thor's sake!
I wheeled around and hurried off, shouldering my way through the crowd until I was fleeing over the marshy ground, the roaring of the crowd shrinking in my ears.
What had that been? That man, that stranger. That feeling.
No, I'd never experienced anything like that before. That spine-tingling warmth, just from a look. That sweeping gaze, as if he was taking me in, devouring
me, and, worse still, as if I wanted him to.
Ugh. Was I losing my head because of Hildre's vile threat?
My gaze strayed longingly to the horizon, towards... I didn't know. That thought thrilled me—that if I just kept walking in that direction, I could find anything, anyone. A new life, even… perhaps.
I peeled away my gaze, my head already shaking at my naiveté. Even I had to admit that the outside world was dangerous, especially for an unmarried, lone woman. Or even two, since I’d never dream of leaving the Waterpaws without Ingrid.
“Hey, wait up!” Ingrid called, a few paces off.
Speak of the devil.
Her kind face was creased with concern. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I think what Hildre threatened me with earlier is messing with my head.”
Seeing my friend’s questioning look, I explained, “He threatened to hand me over to a berserker if I don't consent to marrying a man of his choosing, and soon.”
Ingrid stopped in her approach. “He what?”
“I think he was bluffing, though,” I said quickly.
“Still,” Ingrid declared. “Even just bluffing is...” She faltered, remembering that this was our king she was talking about. She bit her lower lip. “He couldn't have been serious.”
“No,” I echoed.
A few seconds of silence, then Ingrid slid a glance my way. “What did you think of the last one—the shifter who took down that huge monster?”
“He was…” I trailed off.
I couldn’t come up with a convincing lie right now if my life depended on it.
Ingrid let out an incredulous laugh. “Ah, you fancy him!”
“I don't even know the man,” I argued.
“Nor I,” Ingrid agreed. “But that didn't stop me from noticing his appealing body. Or those cheekbones! Hard enough to cut wood, I'd say.”
For some reason, Ingrid had a thing about cheekbones. Who knew why?
“Hm,” was all she got out of me.
I turned away, wanting to drop the subject.
It was stupid, really. Having a crush on someone I'd never spoken a word to, let alone seen for more than five seconds. I was a full-grown woman, for Loki’s sake!