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

by Selena Scott

The soldier paused, eyeing Chuld suspiciously, as though expecting him to break out laughing. I knew that was what I felt like doing.

  Then again, if that was what got us an audience with him…

  “Fine,” the soldier finally said.

  On our way back to our tent, Grise and I turned our surprised attention to Chuld. “What kind of gift can we offer him?” Grise asked. “I don't know about you, but few men have found me handsome, so...”

  “We have Kackla,” Chuld pointed out.

  “No,” Grise barked, at the same time that I sighed.

  If it came down to it, we would have to hand our hairy friend over. It wasn't like he would be mistreated here. Although I hated the thought of anything that belonged to me, or that I loved, belonging permanently to the Waterpaw clan, if it and some half-hearted apology got the king to at least partially forgive me and listen to reason as far as Dahlia was concerned, then it would be more than worth it.

  To save her, nothing was too high a price.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - DAHLIA

  Later that day, Ingrid was permitted to leave the tent, but not me. When she returned, she was ashen-faced, looking even worse than when she'd left.

  “Did you eat anything?” I scolded her.

  She nodded.

  After a long silence, I finally burst out, “Just say it. Tell me. Hildre is marrying me to a berserker, isn't he?”

  Her face so dismayed she looked mortally wounded, all Ingrid could do was nod again.

  “There’s more.” She sat herself down on the edge of my mattress. Njal—”

  I cut her off. “But that's—”

  “The berserker king,” she confirmed.

  No.

  Not Njal, the berserker king who was older than any other man alive. Who had fed his grandmother to his mother when she’d opposed one of his marriages. Who had wiped out a nearby colony of polar bears in the north.

  Or at least that’s what Father had told us; that’s what all parents had told their kids to frighten them into obedience: “Be a good cub, or you’ll be sent to live with berserkers!” Could it be true? Was it all false?

  “What about Hildre, did you see him?” I asked Ingrid.

  Ingrid couldn't even look at me, and just shook her head.

  “No,” I moaned.

  Panic was superseded by determination. I would not just sit here and let my wretched brother do this to me. I. Would. Not.

  I darted to the back of the tent, my hand diving into my pocket for my small protection knife. If I could just cut a hole in the back, with the guards in the front…

  Ingrid grabbed my knife-bearing hand. “Don't. The guards are stationed all over, on every side,” she explained. “I think Hildre is worried that the brothers might interfere with the marriage. Or just that you'll try and escape.”

  “I can't believe Hildre would actually…” I murmured, staring at the wall of the tent, unable to say the words again, to believe it.

  Images flashed in my mind, seemingly random.

  Us as children, running about the brovin, fighting with wood swords and laughing, learning to use an arrow, to hunt and catch rabbits. Us as adults, crying over our father's motionless, still mighty-looking body, dancing in the rain the day our sister was married, and we thought her lucky. Hildre, his face white as he stared at the lifeless, very white body of his wife.

  And this man, my brother, was basically handing me over to be killed. All for disobeying his marriage decree. For wanting to choose my own life.

  I clasped at Ingrid. “What if we told him that I changed my mind, that I'm willing to marry Bo? That I’m willing to marry anyone, anyone at all—” A sob ripped out of me. “Please.”

  Tear streamed down my face.

  Ingrid wrapped her arms around me. “We can try and tell him, but… I'm sorry, Dahlia. The promise has been made. The berserkers are settled just outside our camp, you know how they are about promises. If your brother tries to refuse them—”

  “Then they’ll kill us all.” I stood up. Sat back down. “So that’s it, then.”

  And yet, as I settled my head back on the mattress, my mind still teemed with hopeful possibilities—all of them impossible. How could I ever escape, when surrounded by guards just outside and berserkers nearby?

  Maybe Ingrid's idea of escaping while going to the bathroom had merit. But then, earlier, when they'd let me do that, I’d taken one step away when I'd heard an archer casually notching an arrow to his bow. Of course, they wouldn't shoot to kill. They would probably just shoot me in the leg or arm. Berserkers didn't need functioning legs or arms to impregnate their women, after all. But still, it made all hope of escape, just that—hopeless.

  That night, I awoke to some rustling outside the tent. A hole had been cut in it, small enough for an eye. My heart leapt. I recognized that deep blue eye.

  “Aaric.”

  “I don't have much time,” he whispered. “I paid off the two guards here to let me talk to you for a few minutes while they stand a few yards away, but that's it. My brothers and I are going to free you. Don’t lose hope.”

  “You really think you can rescue me?” It seemed too much to hope for.

  “There has to be another way,” he growled. “I will not let you marry that monster. Never. I’d rather die.”

  My hands clenched so hard it hurt.

  “No” I broke out. “I can't stand the thought of you hurt because of me. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “You Waterpaws, always ordering everyone around,” Aaric muttered derisively. “All I’ll promise you is that you aren’t going to be a bride of a berserker.” He cursed. “I have to go.”

  “Wait—” I shoved my fingers through the hole. Strong, warm fingers clasped them, then released.

  “Dahlia?” Ingrid mumbled sleepily. “Was that...”

  “Aaric,” I whispered. “He said they’re going to try and rescue me but... Ingrid, I can't have them risking their lives for me.”

  “Just wait and see,” Ingrid murmured. “Perhaps they have a really good plan.”

  “They'll need more than a good plan to get by the soldiers and the berserkers,” I said.

  My mind keep mulling and mulling over it, but I couldn’t grasp any way. It seemed like I was still mulling it over when I awoke.

  Confusion was followed by terror. Something was moving in the tent.

  And that dead-meat stench, like…

  No. It couldn’t be.

  I heard… breathing. Ragged, greedy breaths, like a half-dead animal.

  “Hello?” I said, cowering away.

  He couldn't intend to... right here? Right now?

  “I Njal,” he declared. “Join now.”

  “No!” I cried, scrambling away. “Help!”

  No answer. In the dark, I could hardly see him. He was in his bear form, with eyes that burned with a callous fire.

  As I watched in horror, he transformed back into his human form—a hideously shrunken, naked old man with hard eyes who licked his parched lip slits at the sight of me.

  My hand dug under my pillow. I’d only stashed the knife there as a precaution, but using it now was as good a time as any. No way was I going to submit to being assaulted by this disgusting monster.

  As he advanced, Ingrid suddenly yelled, “Help! Damn you—we’re being attacked! Help!”

  A commotion outside of the tent. I guess now the soldiers couldn’t afford to pretend not to notice what was going on.

  “What’s going on in there?” one soldier yelled.

  Njal's grimace deepened as he strode over to the entrance of the tent, turning back to give me a lecherous smile. “Will wait, bitch. Tomorrow night, continue. Inevitable.”

  As soon as he was gone, Ingrid and I lunged for each other and hugged each other tightly.

  “How did he even...” I muttered.

  “Would you say no to a berserker wanting to go into a tent you were supposed to guard?” Ingrid pointed out.

  Thank Thor she h
ad cried out more, though.

  I couldn't tell whether the tears on my hand were hers or mine.

  “What are we going to do now?” I whispered.

  Ingrid just hugged me tighter, and all I could think was, What am I going to do now?

  ***

  The next morning, I awoke, hoping the nightmare had been just that, a nightmare. But Ingrid's pale, still-horrified face as she braided her hair told the truth of it.

  Njal had really snuck in here last night, and been just as hideous, stinking, and revolting as I'd remembered. It was no nightmare. It had really happened.

  And tonight, after I was wed to Njal...

  My stomach swirled with revulsion. No. There had to be another way.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN – DAHLIA

  Later that day, Toke came to me with some good news: my marriage was put off a day—Thank Thor—to take place tomorrow.

  He also instructed me to get rubbing myself with mud.

  Truly?

  Apparently, that was berserker bridge custom for their marriages. Lucky ladies.

  Toke supplied the tins of mud, while Ingrid and I set about the task methodically, rubbing the stinking mud over my arms and legs.

  As we worked, Ingrid peered cautiously at the tent entrance, outside which the soldiers were still guarding. “Maybe tonight, when everyone is asleep...”

  “I just shook my head.” The soldiers won’t be sleeping.

  “But even they must see what madness this is,” she said, eyes blazing. “Even they must have some pity! We just need one or two on our side.”

  My dear friend! I burned to embrace her for her wild faith, even if I couldn’t quite believe it myself.

  I held back on my embracing impulse, though. No way did I want to sully my friend with this filthy mud too.

  “A promise has been made,” I reminded her, hating the bitter taste of the words in my mouth all the while.

  And yet, it was true. Hildre had given me over to the berserkers. And trying to escape that would endanger everyone I loved.

  “I mean it.” Rising, Ingrid made her way over to the entrance, her lips pursed with determination. “I’m going to talk to the soldiers. See if one or two can’t be moved to pity.”

  And before I could utter a word of protest, she was gone.

  Minutes later, she returned, with a not-overjoyed yet appeased tilt to her chin.

  “None of the soldiers would listen,” she told me quietly. “But there is someone who finally agreed to see you.”

  Hildre strode in, and I gasped. “What are you...”

  He just stood there, in his wool-tunicked bulk, looking down upon my muddied form imperiously.

  Ingrid got the hint and left.

  Hildre paced the length of the tent, pointedly avoiding looking at me head-on.

  I stared a hole into the side of his head. “So, it has come to this.”

  “Aye.” He paused, still not looking at me. Coward. “It has.”

  A long, drawn-out silence extended between us, heavy with the unsaid.

  “You left me no choice,” he blurted out suddenly. “Rejecting all the suitable matches, while the Waterpaws grew weaker and weaker.”

  “What of the newcomers?” I demanded. “Wasn't the whole point of them joining us to make the Waterpaws stronger?”

  Hildre kept pacing as though he hadn't heard me. “And you, carrying on with that filthy lowborn.” His upper lip curled.

  Filthy lowborn… my rigid shoulders twitched. Aaric was twice the man Hildre was, but if I said it aloud…

  Hildre had stopped walking and now aimed his stream-colored eyes at me miserably. “You drove me to this, Dahlia, you did.”

  “I drove you to this?” Now I rose, looking at my brother squarely. “To handing me over to a bunch of monsters who may very well kill me within the year?”

  Hildre’s face reddened. “Groundless rumors.”

  “Aye?” A little laugh slipped out of me. “Groundless rumors, when any woman who has managed to escape the berserkers speaks of mating rituals which involve assault and brutal tactics that leave their women maimed, if not dead? All of that—groundless? Hildre, look at me.”

  Finally, he did.

  He glared at me as though I were the one handing him over to the berserkers. Our glares sparred—his dropped first.

  “You know Father would never stand for this,” I said. “Power-hungry or not, vicious or not, Father would never have done this.”

  “You don't know what Father was capable of,” Hildre snapped. “What he did. He merely presented his best self to you.”

  Hildre's words slammed into me like a stone mallet.

  “No,” I murmured, half to myself. “You’re not…”

  “Father ruled with an iron paw, and I must do the same.” Hildre turned his back on me, made his way over to the tent entrance. “Even if it means...”

  He never finished—though we both knew what he meant. Even if it meant handing me over to killers.

  I hurried after my brother, grabbed one of his fleshy arms. “But your own sister? Hildre, please.”

  He kept his back to me, spoke to the air ahead of him. “Father would have done the same.” He nodded, as though to reassure himself. “He'd understand. What is necessary to gain and hold power.”

  With that, he ripped away from me.

  “Hildre, please!” I cried out. “I'll do anything—please. Just not this. Please. Anything but the berserkers.”

  Hildre’s shoulders heaved up and down. “Do you not see? Even if I wanted to, I can't break the agreement with Njal now. It would mean murder, mutiny, a vicious battle at the very least. No one has ever gone head to head with the berserkers and come out on top. Perhaps I acted rashly in promising you to him, but what is done, is done.”

  He gave me one last imploring gaze over his rigid shoulder. “There's no undoing it now.”

  And then he left.

  Tears sprang to my eyes. “Coward!” I cried after him. “Fool!”

  Although the real fool was me—for staying here with the Waterpaws when I had ached to leave, for believing my brother was a better man than he truly was.

  I collapsed onto my bed, my chest heaving with sobs I didn’t let out. I had to stay strong, as strong as I could. If not for myself, then for Ingrid.

  Just then, she came in with a drawn face, already knowing what I was going to say.

  My hollow voice spoke the words all the same. “It’s settled. By tomorrow I will be Njal’s bride. Queen of the berserkers.”

  “That bastard!” Ingrid flung her arms around me. “And the soldiers… they’re afraid of the berserkers, won’t budge…”

  It wasn’t surprising. The stories we’d all heard as babes told of murderous creatures who used their poor victims’ bones for furniture, who ripped apart enemies they especially despised.

  That night, sleep never came. No, I lay there in a purgatory of half-consciousness. When a gruff exchange of voices from outside reached my ears, my eyes snapped open.

  Could it be...

  The tent door opened soundlessly, then slight footfalls of feet hitting grass.

  Through the dark, I strained to see. Was it Aaric?

  As soon as the brittle form settled on top of me, I knew it was all wrong.

  With his bony fingers clamped over my lips to stop me from screaming, Njal growled in my ear. “Time for what is mine.”

  I bit on his hands and cried out. Next second, one of his hands was clamped around my throat, the other, forcing my pinafore down.

  I struggled and thrashed wildly with everything I had.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN – AARIC

  Grise yawned loudly. “Hear that?”

  Chuld stopped breathing for a second. “No?”

  “Exactly,” Grise said. “That’s the sound of nothing. Nothing happening and nothing menacing your precious Dahlia, Aaric. Nothing other than three dumb brothers hanging around suspiciously close to the tent of the king’s sister, the Berserker Brid
e-to-be.”

  I resisted the urge to punch Grise in the side of his skull for his easy tone. “Dahlia’s not going to become a berserker.”

  “Wonderful.” Another yawn. “All the more reason to go back to bed.”

  A scream pierced the air.

  “That sound like nothing to you?” I growled back to him.

  I transformed into my bear form and took off at a run.

  At the tent, the soldiers were ready with their swords. I crashed into one, raked a hole through the tent, and clambered inside.

  Squinting, what I made out ripped a snarl from my throat.

  The filth was in his human form, on top of her.

  I smacked him away with my paw, then scooped up Dahlia in my arms

  “Fool.” With a snarl, Njal transformed into his bear form and stood on hind legs. “I will enjoy ripping off your head.”

  More snarls—but from elsewhere. My brothers had joined me.

  Njal stood there for a minute, his black, beady gaze going from each of us to the next.

  With a “You’ll pay for this”, he turned on his heel and stormed off. Clearly, he didn’t like the odds of three against one.

  I pressed Dahlia’s shaking form to me close, loath to let up even the slightest.

  To think, what had almost happened—what would have happened—if I hadn’t arrived in time...

  Thank Thor I had—and my brothers.

  I glanced their way. Grise was stalking out of the tent, shaking his blond, grim-faced head. Chuld was busy comforting Ingrid.

  “Thank you,” I told him.

  He just nodded.

  Dahlia pulled away, wobbling on her feet. Her face kept trying to pull an imperious expression, as though to reassure her of something.

  Her lips moved soundlessly a few times, before they finally formed the words: “Thank… you…”

  I stood there, with my hands at my sides, feeling like a fool. A powerless, stupid fool.

  All of me burned to seize her, press my body against her. To say fuck it all. Fuck my brothers and my stupid revenge scheme, fuck her stupid brother and the berserkers, all of it, to just take her, take her away and keep her safe.