The Warrior's Touch (A Viking Bear Shifter Romance)

by Selena Scott

  I didn't stay out in the brovin for long. Just wandered and patted Kackla and wondered how in hell this was all going to end up.

  When I returned, Chuld was asleep while Grise was taking first watch, his light eyes glittering in the dark. It was a habit of ours, keeping watch like we were still exposed in the woods even though we were presumably safe in the Waterpaw camp.

  Still, it was a good habit to maintain. Who knew if the tide would ever turn against us with the Waterpaws and they’d try to kill us one night? Preparation was every warrior’s first defense.

  I slept fast but not well. When I opened my eyes, I was back there among the flames, with my brothers beside me, smoke all around me, and driving into me, her screams…

  Struggling was useless; the flames choked me, tighter and tighter, not caring that I had to reach my parents, my sister, not caring that my family was going to die. As black encroached everywhere, the last thing I saw were the soldiers, standing and watching and laughing, their shields bearing the crest of a giant paw emerging from water.

  When I awoke, only Chuld was in the tent, snoring away gaily.

  I elbowed him.

  He jolted upright, his hands bicycling in a funny, presumably battle-ready motion. “What!?”

  I clambered over to the tent entrance and peered out. No Grise out there either. “Weren’t you supposed to switch off with Grise?”

  Chuld straightened himself, “Aye, he must’ve...” He yawned.

  I shook my head at Chuld's sleepy stupidity.

  As I made my way back to my mattress, Chuld grabbed my arm. “This could be serious.”

  I shrugged off his death grip. “Grise going to take a piss is serious?”

  “Before you came in earlier last night, we were arguing,” Chuld explained. “Grise was convinced that we needed to act fast while the Waterpaws were busy with this upcoming dance and settling in the new recruits. That we wouldn't get a better shot than now.”

  “Why didn't you tell me?” I growled, already rising.

  “You stalked away before I could,” Chuld protested. “Anyway, I figured afterwards—”

  “C’mon,” I barked.

  Without waiting, I hurried out of the tent, already trying to convince myself we were overreacting.

  Even Grise wasn’t stupid enough to try and get revenge solo, was he?

  But Grise was nowhere in sight of our tent. Which meant only one thing—and it wasn’t good.

  Chuld joined me, as rapidly yet carefully I stalked my way closer to the middle of the camp, where Hildre's massive, scarlet tent was.

  My fur prickled under my skin, itching to stab out. No.

  If Chuld and I were spotted before we reached Grise, what explanation would we give for being in our bear forms?

  Luckily, no one else in this part of the camp seemed to be awake at this ungodly hour. Most of the soldiers were most likely stationed at the outside of the camp, keeping watch for the dangers without, having no idea of the dangers within.

  As we neared the king's tent, footfalls sounded a few feet ahead. A shape flashed by and I took off at a run, shifting as I did. I pounced on Grise.

  He transformed into his bear form, snarling at me.

  I smacked him across the chin. “Don't be a fool.”

  He struggled to break free. “We need to do this.”

  “No... we... don't,” I growled right in his face, pinning his upper body down.

  He aimed a kick up, but I sat down on his legs and smacked him in the face again.

  “What's going on?” an urgent whisper asked from behind me.

  I twisted around to see a familiar face poking out of a nearby tent.

  Of all the goddamn women...

  “You guys,” Chuld said, “I—”

  He fell silent as he stared at Dahlia, who stared back at us.

  Another head poked out beside Dahlia's.

  Two women. For Loki’s sake.

  Grise growled and I smacked him again. If he thought he was going to kill two women and then get to the king without attracting notice, then he was a bigger fool then I even suspected. Not to mention that one of the women was one who could not be touched.

  Under any circumstances.

  “What are you doing here?” the blonde one asked.

  Nervous laughter slipped out of Chuld. “Oh, hi, Ingrid. Now, about that—”

  I told the only lie I could think of. The one that was almost true.

  “I wanted to come and visit you,” I told Dahlia. “My brothers and I fought. They tried to stop me.”

  Suspicion narrowed the corners of Dahlia’s sea-green eyes.

  Chuld's belly rumbled.

  Ingrid smiled at him. “Are you hungry? We have some extra dried fruits in here. If you want to build a campfire, we could heat them up and pass them around?”

  “I'd like that,” Chuld said.

  He made sure to refrain from looking at me or Grise, probably knowing we’d never approve.

  I scowled.

  Aye, both my brothers were fools in their own special way.

  “I don't know.” Dahlia was looking around, less eager than her friend. “Won't Hildre...”

  “You know he'd sleep through a mule trampling on his head,” Ingrid chided her.

  “Fine,” Dahlia grumbled. “Only to protect you from—”

  Grise smiled unpleasantly.

  Dahlia eyed him.

  I wonder if she had any inkling of how close she came to losing her brother. Or I mine.

  Scowling, Grise stalked away as Chuld trailed after Ingrid towards a fire pit. Dahlia grudgingly got out of her tent. I stopped short, staring.

  Was she trying to torment me with that gauzy wee shift?

  I wrenched my gaze away. I needed to stay on task.

  “Should I worry about her?” Dahlia asked, peering after Chuld and Ingrid, who were now sitting and tending to the fire.

  I grunted. “Nah. Chuld wouldn't hurt a fly.”

  “And you?”

  I shrugged. “I'm different.”

  “Dangerous,” she clarified.

  “Isn't that good to have on your side?”

  Her laugh was skeptical as she went to the fire pit. “If you are on our side.”

  I stared at her, but could only see the back of her auburn hair as we moved. “But you...”

  “My brother doesn't share my wary nature,” she revealed. “And besides, Ingrid and I are grateful for new company, whatever they may actually bring.”

  Already, Chuld and Ingrid had a nice fire going.

  “Chuld won't tell me anything about himself,” Ingrid complained as Dahlia went to sit beside her.

  I cast a warning look at Chuld. He’d better keep it that way. The less these Waterpaw women knew about us, the better. All it would take would be them finding out that we were Fireclaws to put two and two together and... it wouldn't be good.

  Dahlia’s gaze slid my way. “I know little about Aaric too.”

  “What's there to know?” I growled. “We had a mother and father, a sister. They were killed by a marauding band over ten years ago.”

  That was something Grise had taught me. When lying, stick to the truth as much as possible. That way, it didn't show on your face.

  Not that it would show on my face anyway. Long ago, I had perfected the art of putting all unnecessary feelings in a cave and sliding a boulder in front of the entrance. Aye, feelings were distractions, nothing more.

  Dahlia grabbed my hand impulsively. “I'm sorry.”

  Ironic and unnecessary. It was Dahlia’s father who should have been sorry.

  “Ingrid lost her family too,” Dahlia added, “to the fever a few years back.”

  Ingrid’s face fell, then she slung her arm around her friend. “At least I still have Dahlia.”

  “And me!” Chuld declared.

  That sent both girls into a riot of laughter.

  “What?” he protested. “It's true.”

  “You shouldn't speak like th
at,” Dahlia scolded him, once she caught her breath. “Ingrid and I are royal born. It's not seemly for newcomers to flirt with us.”

  “We don't know your rules,” I pointed out. “Besides, if you're royal, you should be able to choose who you flirt with.”

  Dahlia’s smile was wistful. “If only it were that easy.”

  “Hildre wants to marry her off to the most powerful Viking lord he can find,” Ingrid revealed. “He's getting impatient too.”

  “I have been refusing his matches for a good two winters now,” Dahlia admitted. Taking something out of her cloak pockets, she forced out a laugh. “I thought we were here to eat, not talk about boring trifles.”

  “Boring trifles?” Chuld protested. “You ladies are going to be married off to some fellow you hate, and that's a boring trifle?”

  “No.” Dahlia stabbed the dried fruit onto the end of a stick, and lifted it over the flames. “It is our destiny.”

  She said it with a coldness that seemed put on. Not that I’d know. Women could be complicated creatures when they wanted to be.

  More importantly, this was the perfect time to pose the question that had been burning within me. My gaze went to Dahlia. “I didn’t see your father at the welcoming ceremony.”

  She swallowed and averted her gaze. “I’m not supposed to—”

  “He died,” Ingrid cut her off, glaring at me. “Alright? Months ago.”

  A silence descended.

  “Ingrid,” Dahlia snapped, her face pale.

  “Oh, come on, what does it matter anymore?” Ingrid argued, cheeks flushed. “They’re Waterpaws now, Dahlia. There's no point in keeping any secrets. Not anymore. They were bound to find out anyway.”

  “Perhaps,” Dahlia allowed. “Even though Hildre swore everyone to secrecy, the whole camp is abuzz with it. Hildre wanted enough time to build up the Waterpaw ranks and strength,” she continued. “That way, by the time our enemies learned of his death, we would be strong enough to deal with any attacks that they attempted.”

  “Just like Dahlia’s future marriage,” Ingrid said. “Hildre wants a strategic match, one that will strengthen our clan.. Make up for his mistakes.”

  Dahlia looked to her friend with wide eyes. “What's gotten into you?”

  “You know my loyalty lies with the Waterpaws,” Ingrid countered. “But your brother is taking it too far. Secrecy will only rip us apart.”

  “You may be right,” Dahlia allowed. “Secrecy was never my father's way.”

  “No, it wasn't,” Chuld muttered before he could stop himself.

  Both girls’ heads whipped his way.

  “What are you saying?” Ingrid demanded.

  “Come off it,” I said to them. “You know Skarde was renowned for being the most brutal, unrelenting leader the Viking clans have ever seen.”

  “He had his ways,” Dahlia admitted, “but they were necessary.”

  “Necessary,” I repeated. Her words twisted in me, and the cautious words I'd intended to explain away Chuld's outburst evaporated. “Taking all the food each village had at harvest, leaving most to starve? So much food that you Waterpaws could afford to throw out the extra? Burning homes that could offer no such bounty?”

  Dahlia's brow darkened. “Where did you hear that?”

  I sealed my lips shut. There was no way to admit the truth without her figuring out who my brothers and I were.

  “What,” Chuld sneered. “Did you never question anything your father told you? Never questioned where your plenty came from?”

  Dahlia's eyebrows arched in rage. “He wouldn't have—he didn't...” She shook her head, deflating. “I don't really know anymore. He was a great father to me, but I always sensed...” Her eyes filled, then she shook her head. “Anyway, it doesn't matter now. He's gone.”

  “Is it true, though?” Chuld asked Ingrid.

  Ingrid bobbed her head, a bit shamefaced. “Aye, the berserkers may be here soon.”

  My fingers tensed instinctively. “Berserkers? In these parts? No. They stay in the north with their own.”

  “They're on the move.” Dahlia’s gaze was on the flames. “To come here and pay my brother, their new king, their respects.”

  “And?” I asked.

  There was something more. I could see there was. But she just kept staring at the flickering flames.

  I looked to Ingrid. “What aren't you telling us?”

  “That they'll be here soon,” Ingrid said, rising. “Anyway, it's time we get going. I'm fairly sure I saw Tora pass by a minute or so ago. Hildre's grumpy enough without him hearing of us supping with the newcomers, in the middle of the night, no less.”

  “We're bottom of the barrel?” I sneered.

  “Yes,” Dahlia snapped, going to join her friend. “For good reason, too. You haven't proven yourself or your loyalty.”

  With that, the pair was gone, leaving us with the flickering flames and the smell of smoke in our nostrils.

  A growl curled in my throat.

  But that was just it. Dahlia was right not to trust me.

  And damn it… she’d left me, once again, with a hard cock and no satisfaction.

  I would have to wait.

  Wait I would—but I would have her. There was no other option.

  CHAPTER TEN – DAHLIA

  I awoke to Ingrid rifling around our tent, beaming as she did so.

  “What's the occasion?” I grumbled.

  “It's the day of the dance, silly!” she trilled, our ample collection of combs clacking amidst her perusing.

  As luck would have it, combs were each and every one of my many would-be suitors’ same bright idea for a gift. I now had a collection of about twenty or so, each distinctively carved and beautiful. Not that I minded. They were nice to look at.

  “So?” I asked Ingrid.

  “So, Chuld just came by to make sure I was going.” She said this as if it were as normal of an occurrence as Toke saying something inappropriate.

  I groaned. “I thought you said we have to be careful.”

  Ingrid made a tut-tutting sound as she wagged her finger at me. “Correction: you have to be careful. I can frolic with anyone I please.”

  “Frolic?” I snorted. “Are we fairies now?”

  Although by the way Ingrid was skipping about, a small smile on her face, her eyes dancing, she did look a bit like a sprite.

  “Besides,” I continued, “that’s hogwash and you know it. Hildre won't like anyone royal consorting with the newcomers.”

  The smile on Ingrid's face refused to falter. “Well, then, we'll just be discreet. Anyway, it's not like Hildre has as high hopes for me as he does for you.”

  I sank back onto my straw mattress, pulling the covers over my head. “Don't remind me.”

  Another tut-tut from Ingrid as she sat on the edge of it and yanked off the covers. “That won’t solve anything. Come on—let's get ready!”

  “We have over ten hours, don't we?” I asked. “Before the dance starts, I mean.”

  Ingrid giggled. “Dahlia, you slept a long time. It's well past mid-meal.”

  “It's what!?” I exclaimed, sitting up straight.

  “I figured I'd let you sleep, since we were up late last night.”

  I rubbed at my eyes and sighed, steeling myself for what was to come. “Okay, let's get ready.”

  “I thought you’d never say so,” Ingrid said, grinning as she took out two frocks. “Which one do you like better?”

  I looked over our small, ornate wood table, where Ingrid had laid out the brooches, combs, and rings. One comb had a series of violet gems, interwoven with carved flowers set in the bone. I handed it to Ingrid, telling her, “This one will match your eyes perfectly.”

  As Ingrid inspected it, a nervous furrow appeared on her brow.

  “Don’t worry,” I said in an offhand tone. “I’m sure Chuld will like it.”

  Ingrid’s cheeks flushed, although she didn’t deny the claim.

  Clasping the dress tig
ht to her bosom, Ingrid settled back onto my mattress, starry-eyed. “I know it isn't wise, but... he's so sweet and gentle. This morning he gave me wildflowers, and—”

  “Tonight, he intends to make you his,” I said. “Don't you recall what Moster Thyra used to tell us?”

  She giggled, assuming the high-pitched, brittle voice Moster Thyra used to use: “All men are tricksters and the devil if you let them be! Keep your heart on lock and key and your undergarments under tighter lock and key.”

  “She's right, though,” I said, speaking to Ingrid as much as I was speaking to myself. “And not just because he could break your heart. If you had a child with him... unmarried...”

  Ingrid shuddered as she sat up, her face going white.

  “Never mind,” I said, giving her hand a consoling pat.

  We both knew what the ‘then’ part of that phrase was: then Ingrid would be cast out and sent to live amongst whatever band would take her, if any.

  Our eyes caught. Ingrid held out her forearm for our old handshake. “Agreed that we won't allow our sanctity to be tarnished tonight?”

  I pressed my forearm and hand to hers. “Agreed.”

  Ingrid gave a decided nod. “Okay, now that that's decided, we have to pick your dress!”

  I groaned. “Most of the last year’s ones don't fit.”

  Ingrid elbowed me. “Don't pretend that all your so-called added weight didn't go to your bosom and hips.”

  I gave my belly an approving pat. “And here too.”

  I giggled, while Ingrid just rolled her eyes. “You know I would kill to have your womanly form.”

  “We always want what we don't have,” I stated.

  She chuckled. “That we do. Anyway, most of these are new.”

  We laid out the selection of dresses on my mattress. There was a long, red flowing one, a shorter, tighter green one, and a sack-shaped black one, with silver threaded through it. There was also a purply-blue one that was smaller than all the rest and, unmistakably, what Ingrid was going to wear.

  Ingrid eyed each in turn. “It is a difficult decision. I saw you in the deep red one just last week, and I know how it sets off your hair. But the way the green one sets off your curves…” She tapped her lower lip, deep in thought, then suddenly, a devilish grin came over her face. “I know how we can decide this.”