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

by Selena Scott

  Now it was my turn, though. I stalked around, dodging his next hit, aiming my own. It was a massive scratch along his neck and... Njal staggered but stood firm. I gaped at him.

  I'd seen a similar swipe of mine take out a full-grown bear shifter, ripped his fight out of him. But this... was a berserker, I reminded myself. Not at all the same.

  As Njal came at me with more scrapes, bites, and rips of his own, it came to me. I wasn't going to win this fight. Not if I fought how I did normally. But how...?

  The next thought was slapped straight out of my head as Njal’s pouncing form collided with the side of my face. I fell heavily, my skull smacking against the ground.

  The crowd was screaming for blood. The fight was already nearly over, and it had barely begun. No.

  I twisted away. Njal was breathing deeply from the exertion.

  Breathing deeply... That was just it, he was used to winning fights within the first few minutes. Not long, grueling duels, like the ones my brothers and I subjected ourselves to when bored and traveling in order to keep in shape. Njal might have been powerful, but he would tire easily, I could see that now. As he came at me again, instead of trying to one-up him or get a blow in myself, I concentrated on evading his attacks.

  Duck, duck, roll.

  As Njal’s hits, scrapes, and bites failed to find purchase, he grew increasingly frustrated and frantic. He snapped at me, lunged at me, and scraped at me with all he had, while I dodged him with a slow, cool steadfastness.

  It was taking a toll on him, I could see that. Now his breathing was labored, his every swipe clumsier, more lethal. That was the thing about berserkers—when they got mad, they also got erratic. Unpredictable. Even more deadly.

  I evaded each of his attempts and then finally, as I saw him weaken and stop for air, and prepared to land my own hit, the first in minutes, he lunged for me.

  His paws clenched around my throat.

  We slammed to the ground and my vision shook. My breath was leaving me. Had left me. My very windpipe was collapsing on itself and... I saw feet and then a face.

  One familiar beloved face with the hood up and the lips stretched in horror.

  No.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN – DAHLIA

  Ingrid tugged at my wrist insistently. “Come on! Dahlia, it's over.”

  I couldn't—wouldn't move. That was Aaric there, dying on the mud because of me. I wouldn't let him. I couldn’t let him.

  “Dahlia,” Ingrid hissed. “We only have seconds. If we find Chuld—”

  “You should go,” I said.

  I would be here until the very last minute. I would watch, I would force myself to watch what my love of this man had done to him.

  Yes, love.

  What I had once balked and scoffed at. What I had once dismissed as mere lust, now, seeing the man I love die in the arms of the one I hated, there was no doubt in my mind. I loved him. I loved Aaric Waterpaw with all the pain and horror that entailed. Now he was going to die.

  “You know I'd never leave you,” Ingrid said, her hand clamping on mine fiercely. “Not even when those berserkers...”

  Njal was already releasing his grip, hoisting one paw in victory.

  “Aaric no!” I screamed.

  It happened in a flash, in less than a half-second.

  Aaric's eyes snapping open, his skull crashing into the berserker's. Then, he was a flurry of swipes, bites, growls, and snarls, and, when he was done, Njal and his face were a wreckage of blood and guts on the ground.

  Aaric staggered to one knee and stayed there. His back was hunched, his body shaking, his smile grim yet victorious.

  A great snarling ripped through the crowd.

  Njal had turned into his hideous old man form in death and the berserkers were enraged.

  Sweeping around Njal, they picked him up, some in their bear forms, snapping their jaws angrily as they addressed Hildre. “You'll pay for this!”

  And just like that, crashing through the screaming crowd, they were gone.

  I raced to Aaric. Though Chuld and Grise had gotten there first, I arrived next. Wrapping my arms around Aaric's hurt, bleeding body, I pressed my lips to his. “Thank Thor.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY – AARIC

  Either I had died and made it to heaven or... I had won. It was hard to say which.

  The last thing I remembered was traveling towards the light, a bright light, while air flowed away and from me and then... a scream. Dahlia's. Then, my eyes opening and a flurry of purely instinctual movement, scratching and biting anything I could on the creature that had tried to kill me, tried to desecrate the one I loved.

  And now, here I was.

  Covered in mud, blood, and sweat. Everything smelled like copper and her—flowers, fresh springs, and... Dahlia.

  “You’re here,” I said simply.

  Half-hysterical laughter bubbled out of her lips. “Of course I am, where else would I be? What you did... for me. I can never repay.”

  She moved my head to her chest, the massive comfy pillows. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Yes, I could enjoy staying like this for a long while. And yet...

  My gaze slid to the king, who was immobile on his seat. He didn’t look like he was much of a threat now, at least. Besides, I had won fair and square, in front of all the Waterpaws. If he dared try to retaliate against a victor, it would be a sacrilege, unheard of.

  And if what the berserkers had said was true, Hildre had worse enemies to contend with now.

  “You idiot.” Grise gave me a swift jab to the side, although he was smiling.

  “You stayed,” I said to him.

  I had known that Chuld would; my youngest brother had always been the loyal one. But Grise was best at looking after himself, no matter the situation.

  “Perhaps I’m as dumb as you,” Grise growled again. “Though I guess it panned out in the end.”

  Chuld ruffled my hair affectionately, as if I were the little brother.

  “You're going to go down in history,” he crowed. “A bear shifter killing a berserker in one-on-one combat. It's never happened before, ever, in all the—”

  “Annals of history,” came a clear, reedy voice.

  My gaze found the voice’s owner—a small, bald boy with massive eyes. The Muhgadreb.

  “You fought well, shifter,” he said as he passed by. “See to it that you fight well again.”

  Then he was gone, leaving his words to echo strangely in my ears.

  Did that mean what I thought it meant? Did the Muhgadreb not only know about my brothers' and my plan, but was also endorsing it?

  I shook my head. No, Njal’s blows must be playing tricks with my thoughts. After all, my ears were ringing, and I was pretty sure my scalp was damp and bleeding somewhere.

  Already, my brothers were hoisting me up, as Dahlia told me, “We’re getting you to a healer. You’re not well.”

  Aye, she was right. Even now, my eyes were closing more and more. Yet, still, I had done it. All was well, even if I wasn't.

  I awoke in a cold, dark room I'd never been in, covered and compressed with something.

  I grunted.

  “Don't struggle,” came a firm, matronly voice. “These here will help you heal.”

  Then my eyes were closing again, and my consciousness ebbed away.

  ***

  The next time I awoke, it was to the thick smell of rabbit and the sound of my brothers arguing.

  “And I say,” Grise said, “Aaric's almost better now. Now is the time. The Waterpaws are in a frenzy, worked up about the berserkers getting more of their kind and coming back here to attack. We'll never get a better chance to kill Hildre.”

  “And I said,” Chuld said, a note of emotion vibrating in his voice, “that we need to wait and see what Aaric says—and be careful.”

  “Chuld is right,” I said.

  “Oh, so he finally decides to wake up,” Grise sneered.

  I fluttered my lashes at him. “Don't look so happy to see me.�
�

  The tension burst like a bubble and we all broke out laughing. Although Grise was quick to get at it again. “We've been distracted enough. Aaric, your precious Dahlia is now safe. You can even bring her with us. But we have to act fast. We have to act now.”

  “I still don't know—” Chuld began.

  “Don't pretend that your sense hasn't been clouded by your love for that Waterpaw wench,” Grise snapped.

  Chuld scowled at him. “We still haven't heard what Aaric thinks, either.”

  Both brothers turned to face me. I heard some rustling, but it was probably some bird nesting nearby.

  “I think we should do it,” I said. “Hildre needs to pay for what he tried to do to Dahlia. And the Waterpaws... they need to pay too. Of course, we'll keep Dahlia and Ingrid safe, but we can't let the Waterpaws go unpunished for their crimes. Not anymore.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE – DAHLIA

  Aaric's forceful voice rang in my ears. I stopped outside their tent, frozen.

  Ingrid and I had told the brothers that we were going off to get berries, but changed our minds part way.

  On our way back, we’d paused, hearing what they were talking of. The last things we’d expected them to. Killing Hildre and punishing the Waterpaws? Who were these men?

  In the dark, I couldn’t see Ingrid’s face, although I hoped she didn’t share my fears. “Do you think...”

  “It's been a lie, this whole time,” she said brokenly. “They came here for revenge against the Waterpaws.”

  “No,” I said, though I wasn’t sure anymore.

  It just didn't seem to fit.

  Why would Aaric risk his life like he had today? Against a berserker, of all things.

  And our night together... No. That, that had been real, at least. I had seen it in his eyes.

  My head was spinning. I steadied myself on a nearby rock.

  “There has to be more,” I said to Ingrid. “A way to find out what their true intentions are.”

  As the words were coming out of my lips, an idea was formulating in my mind. Just pieces and crumbles of it, but still.

  Ingrid chewed on the inside of her lip, her eyes flickering around as if her mind, too, was busy devising a plan. “We could come clean to overhearing them,” she suggested. “Even pretend to agree with them. We could suggest killing Hildre, killing a bunch of Waterpaws and running off with them.”

  I hesitated. Ingrid's idea was simple—but was it too simple? I didn't know.

  “What if they don't fall for it?” I said.

  “Then we lose nothing,” Ingrid pointed out. “Other than them realizing that we're in the dark as to their real intentions, I suppose.”

  I nodded. “I suppose...”

  All of me burned to just rage at Aaric, to release the anger that was ramming my heart into my ribcage, making my very spine itch with the fury in it.

  I wanted to know what he knew, what he'd meant by all of this. Whether everything between us had just been... I shook my head, as though to physically dislodge the thoughts.

  Whatever the case, Ingrid's idea was the best we had, and if we waited around too long, then I would lose composure and just confront Aaric myself. Yes, this was the only way.

  We went to the boys, making sure to be loud with our footfalls. They fell silent.

  “Keeping secrets?” Ingrid teased lightly.

  The bastards’ smiles were steady. If I hadn't known any better...

  “Got us,” Grise quipped. Chuld chuckled. Only Aaric's eyes burned a bit in my direction.

  “We have an idea,” Ingrid said. “It may be risky, but...” She looked to me.

  I blanched.

  She was the one who had come up with the whole damn idea, and now she was expecting me to concoct a convincing reason, to fool the boys? Then again, I didn't really blame her. After all, my best friend was a notoriously poor liar. The few times she’d attempted to tell a falsehood during our friendship, I’d known immediately, from how her cheeks bloomed a bright pink.

  “It's a risky one,” I warned the men. “But it may be the only way. Now, more than ever, is our chance to oust Hildre. Make him pay for what he tried to do to me.”

  At the word “pay”, the men perked up noticeably.

  “What did you have in mind?” Chuld inquired.

  “Kill him,” Ingrid murmured. “Kill him, and the rest of the Waterpaws in charge.”

  A long silence followed her statement. My nails dug into my palm. That was it? That was our grand plan—just telling them… like that? More and more I felt like an idiot, standing there, actually expecting them to buy it.

  But then Chuld gaped at Ingrid and got to his feet slowly. “You think so too?”

  A low, ragged sob fell out of my friend as she twisted away from him. “So, it is true. You weren't here to help the Waterpaws at all, but for revenge.”

  Grise stood up. “Hold the hell on, ladies. Where did you get that idea?”

  My glare only had eyes for Aaric. “We heard you say it ourselves.”

  Aaric rose too, met my eye. His brow furrowed. “So, you know now.”

  My hand clenched from a fist and spread into a slap. “That's it? All along, even you and me, this all was just for...”

  “No.” Aaric took a step forward, holding out his hand to take me by the arm. I jerked away.

  “I don't want to hear any more explanations. Any more lies.”

  “I didn't want to fall for you, Dahlia.” Aaric's voice was ridged with tension. “But I did. And if you must know, it was a distraction from our plan, more than anything.”

  His words flip-flopped in my head uselessly. A distraction... What did that even mean, though?

  “Just hear us out,” Aaric said.

  “Hear you out?” My gaze pierced him. “Or hear more of your lies?”

  “We won’t lie this time, now that you know,” Chuld argued. “And if you'll just listen to Aaric, you'll understand why we did what we did.”

  I glanced at Ingrid, who shrugged. It wouldn't hurt to listen to what they had to say, then decide for ourselves whether or not it was the truth.

  We all sat down and Aaric began, his voice gruff, his gaze cold. “We were part of the Fireclaw Clan.”

  That was all it took for me to realize just how bad a story I was about to hear. The Fireclaws were an extinct clan, thanks to my father. He claimed that they had been openly trying to attack and kill Waterpaws. Part of me shrank from hearing more of Aaric’s story, but I knew I had to. I had to know the truth.

  “The rest of our clan refused to recognize Skarde as the king,” he continued. “My family stayed neutral. My mom and dad, they didn't want any part in the clan disputes. But they didn't want to become Waterpaws, either. They liked our home. So, they offered some of their harvests for Skarde, as was the custom of the other clans who recognized his rule.”

  His Adam's apple bobbed and a muscle in his jaw twitched. “Skarde killed them anyway. Came by to kill all of us. His soldiers burned our home. They killed my little sister, right before my eyes.” His hard eyes flickered my way, digging into me. “She was four.”

  After that, silence reigned. Oh, Thor. What more was there to say? Skarde, my father, had...

  “How do we know you're telling the truth this time?” Ingrid said, in a tone that clearly conveyed she didn't want to believe what she had just heard.

  I didn’t blame her. I’d heard my fair share of brutal tales about Father, but this one… there was no excuse for it. It was horrific, entirely unnecessary. Worse than that, it made the brothers’ lust for vengeance understandable.

  “You don't.” Grise had a rock he was passing from one hand to the other. “But not many pursue dangerous plots of vengeance without a damned good reason.”

  I shook my head, but to what, I did not know. Different impressions were gathering in my head, rolling together like dough to form a final shape, one that I had been refusing to see for a long time now. That my father, the gentle, funny, bald gi
ant who brought me back a fabric doll from each of his expeditions, my dad, who wept when Ma had died. My pa, who had belted out ballads loudly, had been generous with silver gifts and bountiful feasts for every Waterpaw in the clan, he, too, was the man I'd heard about. Whispers, mostly. Rumors. Now, this. Yes, Father had been gentle and vicious. Generous and stingy. Fair and unjust. He had been my father and... a murderer.

  Finally, I found my voice. “I'm sorry.”

  Chuld sighed. “And then for your father to die, mere months before we were set to track you.” He shook his head.

  “Sorry doesn't bring Sif back.” Grise rose and stalked off, pausing to throw a jeering look back at his brothers. “If you won't go through with the plan, then I'll do it myself.”

  All had been said except for the most important thing of all. I glanced at Aaric. “What now?”

  His eyes were furtive on mine. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, are you really going to go through with it—kill Hildre and a bunch of the others?”

  “We will never kill innocents,” Aaric grumbled, getting to his feet. “As for the rest...” The same muscle in his lower jaw twitched again. “I don't know anymore. I thought that all there was for me were my brothers and this plan and then... I met you.”

  He looked at me a bit helplessly. The longing to take him in my arms, hold him, and have him hold me was a physical ache.

  “But I don't know if I can just let it go,” he continued. “Let what happened to my family go...”

  By now, we had drawn away from the others. My arm had settled comfortably in his. “Will it bring them back, though? What will killing Hildre do?”

  I couldn't believe I was doing this. Standing up for my brother, who may as well have left me for dead himself. He signed me away to save his own skin. But he was still my brother. And if I sacrificed him, then I’d be no better than he was.

  Aaric's bloodthirsty eyes were directed at the ground as if he were in the midst of killing just then.