The Berserker Brides Saga

by Lee Savino

But not so for Vik. The huge warrior crouched over me, his touch surprisingly gentle. He lingered at the tips of my breasts, chafing them with the cloth until I sighed. His cheek curved, and I fisted my hands to keep from smacking him.

  “Funny,” he murmured, kneeling and bending to run the cloth between my legs.

  “What?” I grabbed his broad shoulders to stay upright. My teeth gritted. I was not affected by his touch. I was not.

  “I would’ve thought you’d fight me by now.”

  I raised a brow. “You want me to fight?” I asked the top of his head. “I thought you wanted me to obey.”

  “Not I,” Vik’s fangs flashed as he smirked, still threading the cloth between my legs. The rhythm never ceased, pressure growing at the apex. Soon it would be too intense for me to ignore.

  “Fine then,” I drawled. One moment I was still. The next I had thrown myself backwards, kicking the pot and sending it flying. Water splashed everywhere. Even though I hadn’t pushed him hard, Vik landed on his back. He roared and I froze like a cornered rabbit, only to realize his howl was laughter. He rose and advanced on me, dripping wet, sloshing through the water pooled on the floorboards. I lost my lead and he lunged, catching me easily. I pounded his back, kneeing him in the side. His body was so hard, I did more damage to myself. We ended up tangled on the pelts. He dropped his long body over mine, pinning my wrists to the floor. Still, I writhed.

  “Sorrel,” he laughed. “Give up, sweet. Little shield maiden.”

  “Never!” I kicked upwards, aiming between his legs. At the last moment he turned, and I stubbed my toe on his iron thigh. I yelped and he dropped down, flattening me. “Beautiful,” he pronounced, and heat flooded me. His lips found mine and he murmured, “Little fighter. Lovely and fierce.”

  He kissed me and I bit his lip.

  “Yes,” he growled, and wrenched my head back by my hair. His lips burned down my jaw, his beard abrading my vulnerable throat. He pinned me with his giant body, lifting enough of his weight on corded biceps that I wasn’t crushed. His hips covered mine, the bar of his erection pressed into my leg.

  I don’t know when I stopped fighting and started kissing him. At one point he angled his head, coming up for air. Snarling, I gripped handfuls of his hair, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders and tugging him down. His laughter filled my mouth.

  He dragged his thigh between my legs, right over the sensitive junction. Sparks flew up from my aching center.

  “Is this what you like?” his voice was heavy in my ear. His body covered mine, arms bracketing my head, long legs stretched over me. His knee rocked slowly, pressing the perfect spot. “Does this feel good?”

  “Yes,” I arched under him, my nipples furled and needy. “More.”

  His dark chuckle sent tingles down my back. He continued rocking his thigh between my legs, rubbing me senseless. I moved with the heady rhythm, my feet finding the floor and pressing up, my hips straining for more stimulation. I rubbed myself against Vik’s heavy thigh, ignoring his amused laughter. I did not care that Vik was mastering me. I did not care that he was the enemy. I reached for the sensation spiraling higher and higher, desperate for more.

  Pleasure broke over me. I gasped and bucked, my feet drumming on the floor.

  “Good,” he praised me. “Very good, little one.”

  I blinked and Vik rose over me, unfastening his breeches with one hand.

  “Stay there,” he ordered and fisted his cock. His eyes burned on my breasts, my legs, my face. Mustering my weak limbs, I started to sit up.

  “No,” he barked, as stern as Thorsteinn. “Lie still.”

  It was torture to lie there, my center throbbing, as he handled himself. The warriors had been careful around me before, giving me plenty of soft touches and sweet words, but never igniting intense desire or driving me inexorably towards pleasure.

  I watched, fascinated as his essence spurted from the broad head of his cock, coating my chest.

  “Yes,” Vik purred. “You will wear our scent. We will mark you this way before you leave this tree.”

  “We’re leaving?”

  “Do you not want to train?”

  “I thought...” They’d trained me, sparred with me before. But everything had changed. “I thought I was to be punished.”

  “This is your punishment,” He said, taking my hand and running it through his gleaming essence until my skin shone. “To smell like us. To wear our scent. To be driven mad with longing.”

  My legs clenched. I squirmed, feeling suddenly empty. Rubbing my thighs together lessened the ache.

  “That’s it,” Vik murmured. “That’s the way.” He pushed my hand between my legs. “Touch yourself.”

  “I don’t... I don’t know how.”

  “You never stroked yourself to completion? Not even at the abbey?”

  Biting my lip, I shook my head.

  “Let me teach you.” He set his thumb against me and stroked upwards with mini movements. “Barely the lightest touch. Do you feel it?”

  “Yes,” I breathed. All sensation rushed through me, rising to a peak. At the last, he took his hand away.

  “Why did you stop?”

  “Punishment,” Vik smirked and licked his fingers. “I want you weak and wanting us.” Laughing he strode across the lodge and tossed a pack back at me. Pleasure time was over, but I was to be left unsated.

  I stomped my feet. Vik moved about the lodge, making ready to leave. He was not looking. He told me I might touch myself. Perhaps I could…

  The second my hand touched my nether lips, Vik was upon me. “No, naughty one.” He planted my wrists on either side of my body and held me easily as I struggled.

  “Why?” I shouted.

  “This,” He freed a hand to slip between my legs, “Belongs to us. You receive pleasure only at our hands or our command.”

  I thrashed under him, ashamed at how easily he held me. Finally, I stilled.

  “Good girl.” He rose and pulled me up. “You’re learning.”

  “I’d learn faster if you didn’t tease me.”

  “But I love to tease you,” he grinned, then caught my face between his hands. My breath caught at his tender expression. “We will do everything we can to bind you to us.”

  My body still ached for more stimulation, but his gentle voice soothed the cracked wound of my heart.

  “You belong to us, Sorrel. We’ll bind you to us forever, so you will never ever leave.

  Vik

  Sorrel’s dark eyes met mine. Lately she’d looked hard and wary, but with her body soft and flushed from her climax, she looked different. Hopeful.

  Her skin pearly with my seed. My scent mingled with hers. It pleased the beast.

  My chest rumbled with a contented half-growl, I rubbed my cheek against hers, angling my head to brush my beard over her forehead and down her left cheek. As I did, something flicked in the open bond. A light touch, like a butterfly alighting on a flower. Quick and then gone. But it had been there.

  A third presence waited in my mind, expectant. I sent my question to Thorsteinn through the bond. Did you feel that, brother?

  Yes, a touch of hope in him, too. But then, more wary, What have you done?

  I didn’t answer. I teased Thorsteinn too. He wouldn’t be pleased I’d touched her without him. But if we’d touched her from the start, maybe we wouldn’t be in this predicament.

  Sorrel sighed when I released her. Her eyes followed me as I fetched the pack I’d made for her. “Here. Get dressed.”

  I left her to dress and finished preparing to leave, gathering my weapons, dousing the fire.

  When I turned back, she still stood naked, hunched over what I’d given her.

  “Sorrel? Is something wrong?”

  Her head jerked nay. She remained hunched, was she close to crying? She never cried.

  “You replaced them,” her chin wobbled.

  She held the new tunic and breeches we got her. From the beginning, we knew she didn�
��t like dresses. Breeches were the first gift we’d given her, barely a day after taking her from the abbey.

  “Do you not like them? I thought you preferred breeches.”

  “I do.” Her eyes glittered with unshed tears that alarmed me more than a horde of draugr. “You remembered.”

  “You’re a hunter and a fighter. Breeches are far better.”

  “I know.”

  “Then what is it? What is wrong?”

  “The warriors said I was strange. They would make me wear a dress.”

  “What warriors? Where?” I would kill them all.

  “The nuns, too. They would beat me if I…” she raised the breeches.

  I looked from her to the clothes. “The nuns aren’t here. If they were…” I left the threat unfinished. I did not like to kill women. But I would, if it meant Sorrel’s happiness.

  “No one let me wear them. No one,” she repeated, intent on my face, “but you.”

  “Yes, well. They’re better for sparring.” She was looking at me with the world in her eyes and I couldn’t take it. “It wasn’t me anyway,” I backed away, grabbing my sharpening stone and pocketing it. “It was Thorsteinn. He made sure to raid a village or two and grab some pairs. It was nothing.” That wasn’t true. The first pair we gave her, yes, was raided. But after that we found someone to make them for coin.

  “Come on now,” I spoke gruffly. “Put them on. We must be off.”

  She rushed to put them on as if afraid I’d change my mind.

  “If we hurry, there will be time for sparring before Thorsteinn returns. Since you were good, you can climb down.”

  She gave a small smile at that. She loved her independence. I had to bite my tongue all the way down, worried like an old woman that she might fall. But she wriggled down the trunk like a squirrel and sprang safely to the ground.

  “Some of the warriors think that you should be locked up,” I told her when we were on the ground. “Caged or chained to a rock, or worse.”

  She angled her face away, frowning.

  “They will not like seeing you roam freely about the mountain. Stay by my side. Close to me, as if bound by a leash.”

  She made a face and I grasped her chin firmly.

  “You obey us, or you will be hobbled.”

  Her lips pressed together in a sign of rebellion. I chucked her under the chin.

  “Obey. It will go easier on you. But if you fight us... it will be more fun.”

  She frowned thoughtfully all the way to the practice site. We’d set this up soon after we first brought her here, and used it a few times before the thick snows set in. She’d longed to be a warrior and we indulged her, giving her breeches and weapons to wear, letting her cut her hair short. We wooed her in our own way, but whenever we’d touched her, she’d shied away. A result of her capture by the enemy, we thought, and let her be. But the rift only grew, until the three of us lived like warriors, side by side but never closer. By the time we were called to patrol, it seemed easier to go and start over when we returned.

  We were wrong. We should have done everything to bind Sorrel to us, make her truly our mate. Touched and teased her until she clung to us. If we’d claimed her properly, when the time came for our patrol, we would’ve fought not to go. Or at least made it clear that we weren’t abandoning her. It was a mistake, leaving her.

  Sourness turned my stomach. We would make it up to her, do anything to bring her closer. Thorsteinn with his strict rules, and me with my touching and teasing and playful methods.

  This morning proved she responded to them. I would’ve kept her there, limp and lissome on the pelts, if I hadn’t planned a training day. Of course, plans could change…

  “What are we doing here?” Sorrel asked. Outside, she came alive. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes glowed bright. I ran a hand down her back, and enjoyed her shiver, the anticipation running through her body. Maybe we didn’t need to train. There was a patch of soft ground, there, under the hemlocks…

  “Vik.” Sorrel poked me. I caught her hand and kissed the palm, right at the juncture of her wrist. Another shiver. I touched my tongue to the sensitive spot, enjoying her wriggling a moment before letting her go. That would teach her to poke me.

  “You remember your lessons?” I waved a hand around the clearing.

  “A little.” She frowned and a little line appeared between her brows. “It’s been a long time.”

  Too long. Our fault. “Here,” I tossed her my long knife. It stuck in the ground at her feet. “We practice throwing today.”

  I directed her to throw at the trunk of a dying tree. After a few throws, I stood behind her and corrected her stance, taking every opportunity to run my hands over her body. Her first perfect throw came soon after, and I rewarded her, caressing her chest and collaring her throat to rub my face in her hair. She still smelled like me.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked after I pulled away. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed. After we were done throwing, I decided, I’d prop her on a rock, spread her legs wide, and lick her to completion.

  “You’ll see.” I took out my second knife and tossed it at the tree. It stuck beside hers, quivering, their handles almost touching. We marched together to fetch our respective blades.

  “The pack will not like to see a woman armed and fighting.”

  “If they are upset, it is no concern of mine. They are not your caretakers. We are. Besides,” I removed my blade with a quick yank, and she did the same. “If anything upsets them, it will not be your blade work. It’ll be the sight of a woman wearing men’s clothes.” I nodded to her strange attire.

  I’ll never forget her face when we presented her with the clothes she wished to wear. She grasped them close, her mouth trembling. It was the closest we’d seen her come to crying.

  I frowned at that. Had we ever seen her cry? Not even when she broke her leg on that long, awful route from the abbey to the mountain, racing to elude the Corpse King’s clutches.

  “I know I am a strange sight,” she said. “The other spaewives teased me.”

  “Your friends?” My voice dropped to a growl.

  “They are not all my friends.”

  “I thought you were close with them.”

  She shrugged. “I tried, but they did not like me. I was different.” Her face was carefully blank.

  “Because you made a bow and tried to hunt? Because you preferred breeches to dresses and ran from your chores to climb trees.”

  “Yes,” she said distantly. “They used to tell on me.”

  “And then the nuns beat you.”

  “And then the nuns beat me. They used switches until it became clear I would not cry out. They hit me hard enough to mark my skin, but I would make no sound. I would not give them the satisfaction. Some of the orphans jeered at me, telling me next time I would cry.”

  I turned away to hide the sudden flash of rage. “They did not stand by you? One of their own?” I would hunt them down and make them pay.

  “Some of the orphans went out of their way to make sure I was punished. The worst was…” She bit her lip.

  “Who? Who was the worst?” If Sorrel wasn’t speaking of women, I’d challenge them myself. As it were, I might call on them to be punished. Publicly whipped.

  “Rosalind.”

  I sobered at the name. Rosalind was the one who lay unconscious, hit by a stone from Sorrel’s sling.

  “Is that why you hurt her?”

  “No,” Sorrel said quickly, but she didn’t offer why. She threw her knife and hit the target perfectly, then plucked my own knife out of my hands and threw it too.

  Sorrel

  I bit my lip as Vik stalked to the target and wrenched out the knives as if they personally offended him. He returned, but instead of handing me the knives, threw them himself. When I went to fetch them, I struggled because they had sunk so deep.

  “Here,” Vik’s shadow fell over me as I tugged the first knife free. I staggered back and he stead
ied me with large hands at my hips. “Let me.”

  As I grasped the second knife’s handle, his hand closed over mine. Together we freed the second knife. He turned me to face him, holding the knife between us.

  “If you have an opening to throw the knife, use it. Aim for the torso so you have a better chance of hitting something. Complete the throw and run. Promise me you won’t make a stand.”

  He brushed the hair from my face and cupped my chin.

  “Why did Rosalind torment you?”

  I tried to turn my face away and he held it still.

  “You were both orphans,” he peered at my face. “Spaewives collected into the abbey. Why did you not band together, and free yourself?”

  “I tried. I wanted us to.” I’d told Thorsteinn and Vik of how I learned to hunt and forage while I was at the abbey. I trained myself to live off the land, so one day I might disappear. Find a home in the woods and fend for myself. “I wanted to run away, and I was willing to take my friends.”

  “Including Rosalind?”

  “At first, maybe. But after she betrayed me.” I shook my head. “We did not speak, even though I knew she also had plans to leave.” Rosalind was one of the girls the friar singled out for attention. I had thought she would join me in planning to escape. Instead, she turned me in to our keepers. After all this time, the betrayal still hurt.

  “She was with you in the lodge of unmated spaewives,” Vik murmured.

  “Yes. She was there.” We avoided each other for days before falling into old patterns. The girls were curious why I had been with two warriors all winter. Where are they now? Why did they leave you here? When I hadn’t answered, hadn’t known how to answer, Rosalind spoke up for me. Isn’t it obvious? The warriors who mated her didn’t want her anymore. Rosalind was the first to vocalize the truth. She laughed at my stunned expression. It’s all right, Sorrel. We’re all unwanted here.

  “Did you speak to her?” Vik asked, breaking me from the cruel memory. “Did she have plans to leave?”

  I searched his bearded face as he searched mine. “I thought you told the Alphas I led her astray.”

  He made a frustrated noise. “We told the Alphas what they needed to hear. Now I want to hear from you. You said Rosalind left and you followed. I am trying to understand.” His face was earnest.