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

by Selena Scott

  But she left with Ingrid before I could even think of what to say.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – DAHLIA

  The rest of the night we spent in Ingrid’s old tent, the one that smelled like stale grass. Not that it made much difference. I still couldn't sleep, even as wearied as I was.

  Every few minutes, my head would droop down, nodding off, and then suddenly, imagining that Njal was back here on top of me, it would spring back up again.

  Although I couldn’t hear Aaric and his brothers, I knew they were close by again, keeping watch.

  Night seemed unending. Only gradually did I notice light against my closed lids.

  Opening them, I found Ingrid with two rolls and a strained ghost of a smile.

  I groggily dragged myself upright. “What is it?”

  Outside, the clamor of voices was audible as well as the creak and groan of movement.

  As I took a step that way, Ingrid grabbed my shirt sleeve. “You don't want to go out there,”

  I yanked myself away but not free. “Why not? More Hildre orders?”

  Before she could respond, with a big yank, my shirt sleeve was free of her hold and I strode outside.

  I passed by Aaric’s muscled V of a back soundlessly. He was distracted by Chuld, who was whispering in a furtive tone, and some meaty-looking stew. I headed for the longhouse and was so intent on getting there that I almost ran into Grise.

  He looked at me with such loathing, for a moment I strained to remember if I’d forgotten any other incident from last night.

  But nothing came to mind, other than he and his brothers helping to save me. Yet, that hateful look of his…

  His words were laced with venom. “Hope you're happy now.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Aaric.” His whole face was twisted. “He's gone and made a deal with the kings themselves—your brother and Njal. Tomorrow he’s to duel Njal to decide your fate.”

  I just stared at him. “No.” I shook my head. “No, he wouldn’t.”

  My mind was spinning. Aaric cared for me, sure, but a duel against a berserker? It was suicide. He’d never be that impetuous, that completely out-of-his-mind crazy.

  “He already did.” Grise turned on his heel and stormed away.

  I stood there, my breath all crumpled in my throat like a trapped butterfly.

  How could Aaric... without talking to me.

  A bear shifter go head to head against a berserker? The notoriously vicious and berserker king, no less? No, it could not be.

  I had to find Aaric.

  “Dahlia!” Ingrid called, rushing to catch up to me. “So you heard.”

  “What good was keeping it from me?” I asked her.

  “Oh, I don’t know!” A sigh-sob wracked through Ingrid. “I don’t know what to do for anything anymore.”

  I put a hand on her shoulder, then embraced her, although I had nothing comforting to say.

  “There's one more thing,” she added as we drew apart. She cast a surreptitious look around, then leaned in. “Chuld is trying to convince Aaric to leave instead. He thinks maybe if you and I escape too...”

  “But how?” I shook my head at the impossibility of it. “Now, more than ever, we'll be watched carefully.”

  Sure enough, sneaking a look around now, my gaze snagged on two shaggy-bearded berserker men who were standing unnecessarily close to us. Not close enough to have heard what we had been saying, but close enough to stop us if we even thought about taking a single half-step to escape.

  I regarded them icily. “Need something?”

  Their gazes traveled over me with a familiarity that made my blood boil.

  “Nah,” one said. They chuckled, didn’t budge. “We'll have it soon enough.”

  Damn them. Rage turned my hands into talons, my teeth into tearing knives.

  Ingrid had a steely grip on my arm, though, and was shepherding me away, towards the outskirts of the camp, where… there was a man shape—a man? Aaric?

  My head was churning as we approached him.

  I had to get through to Aaric. Not to follow through with this crazy fight. To escape without me. With the soldiers stalking me, there was no way I could join them. But if they went without me, while everyone was distracted with the wedding… there would still be a chance. For them, at least.

  Aaric was staring off, the breeze slapping the long bulrushes against his legs.

  “Go on.” Ingrid nudged me ahead with a small smile. “You two have lots to talk about.”

  As if we were two youths in love with the world ahead of us. If only it were so.

  Right now, those berserkers were still behind us—close enough to keep us in sight, but far enough away so that Aaric wouldn’t punch them in the nose, which he had apparently done already when one of them had spoken crassly and not to his liking.

  Not to mention that my skin was still crackled with mud smeared for my hideous betrothed.

  As soon as Aaric turned to face me, all words fell away.

  His eyes were hard shards, glimmering with sadness. He put his arms around me, and I sighed into him.

  I ached to stay there longer, but necessity pulled me away.

  “What were you thinking, saying you’ll fight Njal?” I hissed to him. “And you didn’t even think to ask me?”

  Aaric’s lips folded together. “I don't require your permission.”

  “Don't be a fool!” I clutched at him desperately. “Aaric, please, be reasonable.”

  He snorted. “You sound like Chuld.” His head shook emphatically. “It’s the only way. I can’t let that monster take you away and do what he likes to you. I’d rather die.”

  Seizing Aaric's hand with both of mine, I pressed it to my bosom. “Please.” My breath was coming out in harried bursts. “Escape. Ingrid told me your brothers are trying to convince you to leave. Please, do. All of you must.”

  His face remained unmoved.

  I hissed, “I'm not worth this.”

  Aaric's hand moved to my cheek and, with his fingertips, turned me so our faces were head-on. There was a split second when a look I’d never seen before crossed over his eyes, something almost like… But then he looked away, spoke to the grasses at our feet, although the words were for me alone: “Dahlia Waterpaw, you are.”

  My breath left me. Our lips were drawing closer and closer and—

  The gummy sound of a throat clearing. “Isn't that sweet?” the same berserker as before sneered, his filth-clotted, dust-grey beard wiggling as he chuckled. “Forbidden love. Normally I'd have you killed, scum, for daring to lay hands on a betrothed. But Njal shall do that tomorrow.”

  Aaric's gaze shifted to them, unimpressed. “We'll see.”

  Just then, whoops hit the air. As well as a rancid smell…

  Aaric’s gaze was over my shoulder, his upper lip curled. “Savages.”

  I followed his line of sight, my stomach flopping at what I saw.

  Some berserkers had caught a moose and hordes of them were feasting on its still-standing bulk at the same time.

  The berserkers watching us didn’t hesitate; they took off.

  “Some soldiers,” Aaric said with a snort.

  And just like that, he picked me up.

  As we walked off, we passed Ingrid. I glanced to her—Should we?

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t try escaping now. I have no idea where Chuld and Grise are. Moreover, there are berserkers in other outlying camps nearby, in preparation for the festivities. But you’ll at least have some time to yourselves. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you went to the springs...”

  I could’ve kissed her then, but settled on a wave goodbye.

  As Aaric carried me, it seemed as though I were floating.

  Only once we reached a grove of pine trees did he lay me down, and get down beside me.

  I could feel his gaze on me, undressing me already, bringing fire to my cheeks.

  I felt his breath—hot—on my neck before I
heard him. “Now I'm going to do what I've wanted to since the very first moment I laid eyes on you, Dahlia Waterpaw.”

  His lips claimed mine. It was a greedy kiss, all taking. Our lips moved together while his tongue plundered deeper.

  Wet heat scorched between my legs. His hands reveled in me, stroked me top to bottom, from where my neck met my chin, down to my Adam’s apple, and further, his lips following the whole way. Down my shoulders, across my upper arms, elbows, forearms, hands. Ah, yes.

  Next, his lips leapt to the top of my breasts. My breath strained out.

  Aaric’s eyes were alive, avid like I’d never seen them.

  With one fluid motion, Aaric stripped down my pinafore and the shirt underneath.

  He gazed at my breasts as though they were the only ones he'd seen in his lifetime. Taking one in his hand, he jiggled its fullness, growling approvingly, “Perfect.”

  He took the other one and did the same, massaging and kneading them together. Then his lips went where his hands had been, covering my mounds with kisses. A groan arced out of me.

  Feather-light pleasure fluttered up and down my body, stroking down my front to join the warmth blooming between my legs. Ah, yes.

  Aaric pleasured my breasts like a god who’d been doing this his whole life, like a seer who knew exactly what my body required.

  His hands stroked down my sides, stopping and swooping around my hips as he felt and squeezed. His lids were half-closed, his eyes abstracted.

  All was pure bodily impulse. Instinct. Want.

  His hands swept down into my warmth and my pleasure exploded in all directions.

  Freya. Was it supposed to be this good?

  I didn't know. It seemed almost sacrilegious, the way his fingers danced between my legs, gripping my thatch and then, under and inside me. He twined them in and jiggled them as even more waves of pleasure crashed over me.

  This was like my dream—better. This was no dream, this was real. Aaric was a god.

  As his fingers danced in me and his other hand lazily massaged my breast, groan after cry after groan left my lips. Then, he took off his pants and stood over me.

  As my eyes delighted in his massive pillar; so, too, did he stalk around me, admiring my every naked angle.

  “Even better without all those coverings,” he declared in a low voice, his gaze trapping mine.

  Holding it, he climbed over me, and as my heart thrilled with fear and joy—Was he doing it? Was it now?—he swept inside me.

  An initial clench of pain and fear was overtaken by pure pleasure. Joy danced through each of my limbs, tingling overtook me. Moans and groans that didn't sound like me left me.

  Ah, yes. This was—we were—just as it should be.

  My mind was blessedly blank. All was him moving in and out. The inward sweep slow and gentle, but growing faster. More insistent, until Aaric was ramming into me with everything he had, his face tense with the glory of it. His cock danced in me, my softness lifting up to join his every thrust, meet him, match him.

  Our bodies smeared and groaned and explored together until the pleasure was too much, until I couldn't take it. Until I was thrashing, delirious, and everything expanded and diminished all at once. Finally, the joy of joys overcame me as Aaric, too, spilled himself into me. Our arms found each other, and we clasped each other tightly as we shook with each pounding wave of the glory. Again, and again, and over again.

  As I slept, I knew only the slightest of sensations. A warmth that covered me, took care of me. Protected me. A voice that I knew and loved whispering, “I'm sorry.”

  Then, finally, movement and more warmth, then coolness again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - AARIC

  Ah, what a dream.

  I'd been having these for quite some time now. As soon as I’d laid eyes on Dahlia, in fact.

  This time I’d dreamt that last night I had ravaged her, and she me. This dream had been more realistic than most, better in every way.

  Aye, my full-figured goddess had been perfect.

  My cock twitched with the memory, even though it wasn’t real. Even though I knew it was just the tail end of an exceptionally good dream. It almost felt like right now, my arms were still wrapped against her fleshy roundness, like my hands were still settled against those huge breasts that I could massage and knead and lap at forever.

  My eyes squinted open against the rude sunlight and saw...

  For Thor's sake!

  I just stared. How could it be?

  Yes, I had always sworn to myself that I would have Dahlia, but deep down, hadn't I doubted it? Hadn't part of me thought it too incredible of a feat, too high a wall to scale?

  And yet, here she was, in my arms now. The very beauty that had blessed me with union last night. Yes. It had been so exquisitely good, that union. Better than I'd ever experienced.

  Dahlia moved and flowed like a she-devil and an angel all in one. Aye.

  I was mesmerized. My hands reached out and skimmed a breast.

  A yawn stretched her lips into a pretty O, then she smiled at me from under her sleepy lashes. I took that smile for myself, pressed my lips against it so she could give it to me.

  No, the only thing that would make me smile now was...

  Latching both hands onto her breasts and kneading them, my erection strained harder against her warmth. It was only natural to slip it in again.

  Aye. The tightness, the wetness, the warmth. As though her warmth had been awaiting just this.

  My cock twitched inside her and I held it enveloped there for a few seconds, enjoying the sensation. I didn't even need to move, to pulse in her. No. Just being inside her itself was too good. Just like this.

  But then she twisted herself onto me a bit different, and the fire once again sparked deeper in my veins.

  I stabbed myself into her again and again and again. At first slowly, but then faster and harder. I couldn't get enough of her. My cock couldn't hold it in. I was going to lose my seed much too fast.

  I paused.

  No. I would not spill in her. Not until I heard that she was... mewling like she was mewling now?

  She was clenching herself and clasping herself against me as though I were the cure to her fever, and she needed my pillar just as much as I needed her.

  She wrapped her legs around me, and I pounded away as if that were the only thing in the world.

  She cried out again, her body exploding in joy. I kept at it. She kept it.

  “Aye!” she kept moaning.

  Until I rammed into her with all I had, and her body couldn’t stop shaking and bashing herself against me. Until together our joy throttled between us as one.

  I held her there for a long time. How long, I didn't know. Only that her scent drove me wild. Part of me wanted—no, needed—to take her again. Over and over again. To lose myself in her luscious curves. I was drunk on them, that much was certain.

  But then the upcoming fight against Njal... No, I couldn't leave Chuld and Grise, and Dahlia would never leave behind her friend Ingrid.

  Gently, I eased myself away from her.

  “No.” Her voice was low, almost pleading. Then she sighed. “We have to go back, don't we? For your brothers, for Ingrid.”

  I nodded miserably. “I’d rather not. But I have to do this—and I will. I can beat Njal.”

  Her eyes closed with how much she longed to believe me.

  Then again, did I even believe it myself? My opponent was a full-grown berserker. One who was arguably the most powerful in the world. I somehow actually expected to win.

  All there was to do was to get dressed, and go back.

  As we approached the camp, Chuld and Grise raced out to greet us.

  “How is Ingrid?” Dahlia asked them immediately.

  “Fine,” Grise said with a wave of his hand. “Aaric, we need to talk.”

  “I'll go find her,” Dahlia said.

  As soon as she was out of sight, Grise growled, “Forget her! This is our last chance to g
o. Are you going to throw everything away for some Waterpaw woman?”

  I didn’t even look at him, wouldn’t let him infect me with his doubt and fear. “I’ve made my decision.”

  “Come on, brother,” he hissed. “Don't be a fool.”

  Chuld said nothing.

  I stalked past them, headed for the camp.

  I would do this. I had to.

  Back at the mud clearing we’d fought in initially, everyone was gathered around, so many Waterpaw Vikings packed in that no one noticed my approach.

  A grim smile came to my face.

  If I was lucky, then history would repeat itself here and I would be victorious once again. If I wasn't lucky... Best not to think about that.

  The crowd was already roaring for blood. Hildre sat front and center, his ugly snarl indicating he'd love nothing more than for Njal to rip off my head. Dahlia and Ingrid were in the crowd too, squished to the front. As I shouldered my way through the crowd and onto the fighting mud, her lips contorted into a horrified O. I looked away. Distractions were a luxury I couldn’t afford.

  A low growl and a murky, bristly massiveness crashed towards me. I dodged with seconds to spare.

  Njal in his berserker form. He was raring to go. Evidently, the normal rules of starting at the same time didn't apply here. Not when the Waterpaw king himself wanted you dead.

  As Njal raced for me again, his death stench reaching me first, his jaws snapping in readiness, I struggled to transform in time.

  His pumpkin-sized paw bashed into me just as I felt my fur prickle through my skin.

  I tucked into a roll and sprang up onto him.

  Aye, the fight had begun.

  I would show Njal a thing or two about being a bear. Not some mangy, vicious beast. A much-needed lesson about manners too.

  First, though, I’d have to avoid being slaughtered on the spot. Njal threw blow after blow at me, leaving nothing back. It was clear each and every hit was intended to kill, the way his fangs raked out and his jaws snapped down mercilessly.

  Although I managed to dodge most of these, his face-first lunge caught me unawares. With a snarling bite, he took a chunk out of me. Pain sung in my shoulder and a growl ripped out of me. Bastard.