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

by Selena Scott

  “She's right,” Aaric said, refusing to meet my gaze. He found this hard too, clearly. “You go talk to your brother. Chuld and I will stay back…”

  There was another look in those ebony irises… something hungry, certain. Later. Was that what it said?

  In any case, Ingrid and I beelined for the King's tent.

  “He won't see you,” one of the new guards said, a newcomer who barely gave me a flicker of recognition.

  “Please,” I pleaded, “I'm his sister.”

  His wide-set blue eyes wavered. “I'll go ask, but he stressed that he wished to see no one.”

  Seconds later, he was back, shaking his round head. “He won't see you.”

  “Hildre!” I called. “Please! Just a word. Please!”

  Nothing.

  “Hildre!” I yelled.

  Ingrid hooked her arm through mine. “It's probably better to just give him some time. Maybe he just needs to sleep it off.”

  If only I could sleep off how I was feeling.

  Like I didn’t want to take back what I’d done at all. Like, for the first time, I felt electrified, alive. Really, truly alive. And it was all from being with Aaric, our dance, the words we’d spoken without needing to.

  Aye, I'd never felt like anything like it. And maybe it was stupid and rash, but to deny it would be a flat-out lie.

  How to explain it to Hildre, though, and make him understand? Maybe, just maybe, if I had a chance to just talk to him… but no. The guards’ expressions were firm. Ingrid was right. Best to give Hildre some time, a day or so. Now, all there was to do was to allow myself to be pulled away by Ingrid.

  Only when we were back in our tent did I ask my friend the question that had been tearing at me on the inside. “What are we going to do?”

  “Perhaps Hildre may just put his foot down and make you marry Bo, or one of the others,” Ingrid said, as if that were any reassurance. “And if worse comes to worst, there’s still the option of leaving. We could go with Chuld and Aaric, maybe—”

  I shook my head. “But what about what the Muhgadreb told me? I can't just leave Hildre to whatever bad fate is awaiting him! He may be in danger.”

  “If he marries you off to a berserker who would take you away for their own, you may not have a choice,” Ingrid pointed out. “I'm not suggesting we be rash now, not yet. Let's see how Hildre is tomorrow, if he'll see you. Then, once the berserkers come and we hear more about what Hildre plans to do, we can make a decision.”

  The nervous pattering of my pulse slowed. Ingrid brought all the madness into simple if-thens, made it all sound so doable and non-ruinous. I smiled at her. “Ingrid, what would I ever do without you?”

  “Die of boredom, most likely,” she said with a little laugh.

  “Most likely.” I settled on my mattress, eager for sleep, although I remembered something else then. “Oh Loki, I am a terrible friend! I didn’t even ask how your time with Chuld was! Did you even get to spend a minute with him thanks to Aaric’s and my dance? Did I ruin everything?”

  Ingrid shook her head. “You two danced for quite some time, you know. Hildre tried laughing it off at first, probably figured it was a fluke, a momentary lapse of judgment on your part. But then you kept dancing and dancing and holding each other and looking at each other like that…” Seeing my face, she said, “Sorry—about Chuld and me, well,” she allowed a shy smile, “you two stole everyone’s attention so completely that it gave us more than enough time to dance and chat, and Dahlia—” She closed her eyes. “It was divine. Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it,” I said. “I’d imperil my future to give you some time with your beau anytime.”

  “You know that’s not what I meant,” Ingrid said, though she was smiling. “And Dahlia, just remember—”

  “I know,” I said. “Whatever happens, I’ve got you. And you remember that too. I’ll be there for you too. Just don’t take that as a free pass to get yourself pregnant or anything.”

  Ingrid gasped playfully. “Dahlia, I assure you that my sanctity is very much intact.” A playful wink. “Yours, on the other hand…”

  I chucked a pillow at her. “Alright, alright, let’s get to bed, Moster Ingrid.”

  She chucked it back, smiling good-naturedly at me. “Good night, Moster Dahlia. Sleep well.”

  Although I didn't sleep well at all. I tossed and turned, and when my eyes finally squinted open as someone shook me, it felt like I'd just laid my head down on the pillow.

  Ingrid kept shaking me. “Dahlia—I mean it, it's important.”

  “So is sleep,” I groaned.

  “You're going to want to see this,” she insisted.

  “Pretty sure I'm going to want to sleep more,” I mumbled.

  Exasperated, she grabbed me by the arm and yanked me a bit off the mattress. “Dahlia, I mean it!”

  I let out one last unwilling groan and rustled myself to a somewhat upright position. “Fine, what?”

  “Go look outside,” she said.

  Something cold and clammy clenched inside me. “Why?”

  Ingrid wouldn’t answer, just jabbed her finger towards the tent entrance.

  Seconds later I was pulling back the flap of the tent, stepping forward and… stopping. Standing. Staring.

  Filling much of the triangle of the tent entrance were two soldiers’ brawny backs.

  For whatever reason they were there, it couldn’t be good. And I intended to find out what it was, me still being in my bedclothes be damned.

  I cleared my throat.

  One of the soldiers turned, revealing that he was the same newcomer as before.

  “There's been a mistake,” I stated with all the authoritative ring my voice could muster. “This is Ingrid’s and my tent. We require no protection.”

  “This was requested especially by the king,” he replied.

  I made to step past him. “So, we're free to go as we please?”

  The other soldier stepped in my way. “For your safety, the king has ordered that you stay in your tent for the time being. The berserkers are due here any hour.”

  “Aye,” I said, nodding dumbly. “Aye.”

  My feet carried me back over to Ingrid.

  “He wouldn't,” I whispered.

  Ingrid’s white face was working away as she tried to think of something to say, some reassuring lie to tell me.

  “It's not for my safety at all,” I said in a broken voice. “That bastard plans to marry me to a berserker. We should have left when we had the chance. I stayed here for a brother who would hand me over to monsters.”

  Ingrid pressed a finger to her lips. “Keep your voice down. There still may be some options left.”

  “Like what?” My finger jabbed to the tent entrance. “With those guards stationed out there—”

  “They can't keep you guarded forever,” Ingrid insisted in a quiet voice. “What about when we are let out to relieve ourselves? Or maybe they’ll permit you to speak to Hildre one more time.”

  All there was to do was pretend that I believed my poor, hopeful friend, and say, “Perhaps.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - AARIC

  Ah yes, the clear-aired, sunlight-flickered dawn..

  My paws lay upon the ground gratefully. This bearness was exactly what I'd needed. When I stayed in my human form too long, I often got caught in mental traps, lost perspective.

  I let my gaze roam across the tree-studded hills I'd wandered onto. Grise and Chuld were nearby keeping watch, having agreed that it wasn't wise for us to split up while I was still in the king's firm disfavor. Although I doubted the king would kill me for what I’d done, preparation was every warrior’s first defense.

  Aye, in one fool cock-driven move, I'd ruined all our chances of easily assimilating into the Waterpaws, at least for the foreseeable future.

  I could still hear Grise's yells ringing in my ears from last night: “Idiot! You forced me to wait around on our plan, while you were up your own ass chasing the royal wench
. You may have just cost us everything!”

  Cost us everything...

  My teeth ground together. Grise was right. I'd gotten distracted. Stupid. Thinking I could just openly defy the king like that was pure insanity. With his sister, no less.

  But for Thor's sake, if the sight of Dahlia and her curves didn't just drive me insane—then and now.

  Not that I was in any way, shape, or form permitted to see her now. There were even guards stationed outside of her tent.

  Although there was still talk of the berserkers coming, there had been no actual sign of their apparent impending arrival, nor even an official confirmation on the part of the king or any of the noble men or ladies.

  Perhaps it was just something Hildre had threatened Dahlia with, something the Waterpaws had overheard and run with. After all, the camp was full of silly old rumors. One spoke of the bear ripper, a mythical beast who traveled at night and preyed on lone bears by ripping out their throats. None had ever seen him, of course. Another spoke of a bear sorceress who collected the eyes of badly behaved bear cubs for a spicy stew.

  Anyway, I wasn't one for riddles or rumors. When I saw the berserkers with my own eyes, that was when I'd start to worry.

  I shook the human thoughts out of my bear head. I rose up on hind legs and let out a loud, long roar.

  The hills echoed it back to me, louder and stranger.

  And then another.

  And then another.

  I fell back on all fours, my back stiffening. The hills hadn't echoed back my own roar.

  No, that was...

  I made the shapes out on the horizon before the new roars reached me—bear shapes advancing incredibly fast.

  Seconds later, Chuld had reached me, his bear face somehow even more frightened than his human one. “Berserkers—we have to get back to camp.”

  “But—”

  “Come on.” Grise grabbed me by the arm and yanked me along.

  I swallowed back the growl rankling in my throat. It bristled, tucking tail and running like this. After a few paces, I pulled myself free to get a good look at them. In the short time we’d been fleeing, they’d gained on us almost entirely. The biggest one—a midnight-black monster with eyes so black that you couldn’t see when he blinked—grinned a razor of teeth at me.

  His companion, a smaller yet no less terrifying bear, with his mangy fur and half-lidded eyes pointed in different directions, grumbled in pidgin English, “You Waterpaw?”

  “Aye,” Chuld squeaked before Grise or I could make any sort of wisecrack.

  My gaze moved on to the pack behind them. There had to be thirty or so of the slack-jawed, glittering-eyed beasts. Berserkers they were, alright. Bigger than any other bear shifter I’d ever seen, stinking of filth and death.

  The half-lidded bear looked slightly upset at this news. He glanced to the midnight-black one, the leader, clearly, and murmured, “Would they really notice if one or two—”

  “No.” The midnight bear’s paw crashed into the half-lidded one, sending him staggering into the others, who seemed utterly unfazed. This was probably not a new move for him. “I told you—my wife awaits there. We can have our fill once we arrive and speak to the king.”

  Dragging his hurt back paw along, the half-lidded bear straightened himself and attempted to assume a pose of power. “Go tell your master quicklike of our arrival most soon. Mighty berserkers.” The other berserkers growled their agreement. “Make ready finest women, and enemy bears for much sup and enjoy.”

  This brought hearty grumbles from the crowd.

  “You eat bears?” Chuld asked, aghast.

  I’d gleaned that from the half-lidded bear’s behavior, but there was something about hearing it stated outright.

  An older berserker with grey hair and a lean, muscle-lumpy body eyed us, licking his lips and laughing unsettlingly. As he did, he started choking, then spat out an ear in front of us.

  He was clearly delighted with Chuld’s horror. “Tame shifters no likee.”

  Grise’s upper lip was curling, the way it did when he was about to do something exceedingly stupid. I grabbed him and backed away, both hands up. “We’ll just be going—and letting our king know of your arrival.”

  As much as these mongrels repulsed me, now—against thirty or more of their cannibalistic numbers—was not the time to stage an attack.

  Chuld was already well ahead of me. “Aye. Lovely to meet you. Always a pleasure meeting other bears with unique cultural practices and entirely original worldviews. Good day to you.”

  As the berserkers roared with laughter, we raced off.

  Although not fast enough that I couldn’t grumble to Grise, “Have you been on a one-man mission to get us killed these past few days? Grise—those berserkers could bite us in two!”

  By now we'd transformed back into our human forms, although not slowing our breakneck pace.

  “Aye,” Grise grumbled, his fists slackening. “Just seeing them like that, so proud about being vicious cannibals, I lost my head. But you don't know, maybe we could have taken them.”

  Laughter, so hard I nearly fell over from it, rocked through me. Chuld just shook his head at Grise. “Aaric is right. Fighting any of them would be suicide. You heard them—they eat bear shifters.”

  “And someone needs to teach them a lesson,” Grise said firmly, as though he were noble Thor himself.

  Chuld caught him by the arm. “Even King Hildre will have to toady up to them.”

  “Hm,” Grise said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “You may have a point. Even King Hildre wouldn’t stand a chance against them, so… what if we went to them with a proposition of our own?”

  “Are you daft!?” Chuld and I yelled in unison.

  “The berserkers would probably just eat us for fun, first off,” Chuld said.

  “Or just tell the king so he can serve the berserkers our heads on a platter,” I cut in. “The berserkers don't deal in things like logic or plans. They go by pure, bloody instinct.”

  “Fine, fine,” Grise groused. “It was just an idea.”

  “Your most idiotic one yet,” I snapped. “Maybe me trying to woo the king’s sister right under his nose is idiotic, but thinking that you can partner with a berserker is downright ludicrous.”

  Now we’d neared the camp, although Toke was approaching us. He looked as though he smelled the berserkers—or perhaps he’d only gotten a glimpse of his own scowling, ugly mug in some water.

  “If I were you,” he said in a voice laced with condescension, “I wouldn’t try to interfere with what has been decided.”

  “What are you talking about?” Chuld asked, a bit impatiently. His longing gaze was on the longhouse, from which a delicious stew smell was wafting.

  Toke eyed us, a sneer curling on his fat lips as he declared, “Dahlia is betrothed to Njal.”

  Liar.

  My fists itched to meet his square jaw—but no. Not now. That was probably what he wanted—a reason to have me arrested, thrown out.

  “You jest.” Grise’s mouth twisted. This was too horrible, even for him.

  “Berserkers are known to impregnate their women with ten or more spawn at a time,” Chuld added, as though reciting from one of the scrolls he so liked to read. “Most brides don’t live past the two-year mark.”

  Toke waved an impatient hand. “All skewed rumors, I'm sure.” His gaze flickered to the distance, where the horde of advancing berserkers was visible, and understanding gleamed in his small pig eyes. “By the looks of it, you've already seen for yourselves that the berserkers are merely harmless, misunderstood fellows.” His sardonic smile was like a slap across the face.

  He knew.

  Exactly what the berserkers were. Exactly what they were capable of.

  I gripped my hands together so I wouldn't punch him in his stupid smiling face.

  “Want my advice?” he continued, saying the rest before we could tell him just what we wanted—his head on a spear would be nice. “Leave, b
efore the king remembers the great dishonor you have done him and his sister.” He shrugged. “Or, you can wait around and watch the marriage yourself. It shall take place in only a few days now.”

  And, as all of me burned to strike and slash at him until he was nothing but a twitching hunk, I let him go. Let him live.

  For now.

  We didn’t need any more rash moves. We needed to think, plan. There had to be a way around this.

  Once Toke was out of hearing range, Grise perked up. “New plan: we kill Hildre, and we kill that guy.”

  Aye, this plan appealed to me.

  “What?” Grise said, obviously pleased with himself. “No more protests against going fast?”

  I shook my head. “Not anymore.”

  “Before we do that,” Chuld suggested, “what if one of us... well, you know, makes a go at trying to… ahem, talk to the king?”

  In the silence that followed, we could hear a sparrow taking off from the ground.

  Grise yawned. “Your jokes are never funny, little brother.”

  “I jest not,” Chuld argued. “Perhaps it is a long shot. But it is worth a try. How do we know that we'll have a chance to save Dahlia in the next few days?”

  “We owe it to her to try whatever we can,” I agreed.

  Now more than ever, I wanted to get vengeance on that scum Hildre. But the most important thing was protecting Dahlia.

  No way would I let that berserker get his filthy paws on her. Over my dead body.

  ***

  At the king's tent, there was the sound of voices from inside, and guards stationed out front.

  “The king has said he will see no one,” a braided-haired one said firmly, waving me away with a shoo motion.

  I stayed put. “This is important.”

  “He said no one,” the guard growled.

  “Will you tell him that Chuld and Aaric want to speak to him later?” Chuld requested in an angelically polite tone that made me want to retch. “To apologize and offer a gift, a token of our apology and respect?”