Beowulf's Claim (Viking Warriors Book 3)

by Jessica Knight

  “You’re insatiable, Beowulf,” she laughs as I kiss down her neck, and a soft moan escapes her when I nip a red mark, I made last night.

  “Of course I am. Have you seen what a treasure I am holding?” I kiss her shoulder. “That I’m kissing.” I wrap my arms fully around her and hold her close, until our hearts pound against each other’s, synchronizing until they are beating as one. “That I love.”

  Her fingers are gentle as they run across my chest, and it makes my eyes drift shut. “I love you too.”

  “You truly remember?” I ask. I’m nervous she was in the moment, giving in to the urges that were bound to break eventually.

  “Every single thing, my love. I remember the time we swam in the ocean; when we weren’t allowed, and you tossed me into the waves. I remember you leaving for your first day of training. I remember how nervous you were. And I remember how relieved you were to see me in the field waiting for you that evening. You’ve grown into such a brave, strong man, Beowulf. I’m sorry about the last few days. I can’t imagine how much it hurt you.”

  “I’m just glad you’re back, and you’re safe. You’re here in my arms, in my bed, and I’ve never been happier.”

  “Truly?” she asks, lifting a perfect light brown eyebrow.

  “Really.”

  “What happened to Grant?”

  The mood shifts, and I flop onto my side. “Jackals destroyed the town, burnt everything. They gutted him.”

  She gasps, and when I turn to look at her, a tear breaks free from the corner of her eye and flows down the curve of her face until it stops at her jaw. “Your nephew?”

  “I don’t know where he is,” I push my fingers in my eyes to stop the burning sensation. “I wager the Jackals have him. Goddess, I’ll never find him then. They move around too much. I’ll need to know where they would be next and beat them there.”

  “I can help. I don’t know much about them, but I do know they alternate. South, North, East, West. Then, West, South, East, North. Also, East, West, North, South. I overheard them say they will never go North, South, East, West because it is too predictable. Everyone would know then.”

  I crush my body against hers and kiss the hell out of that brilliant mouth. The tip she gave isn’t much to go on, but it’s better than nothing. It’s a start, and it’s more than I had five minutes ago.

  “I fucking love you. You beautiful, smart, mad woman.” I kiss her in between words, my cock growing hard again when I slide against the wet folds of her pussy. How this woman just changed my mood is beyond me. It’s magic, that is. She just gave me hope.

  “Beowulf,” she giggles and grins as my girth slides against her pussy lips.

  I almost catch my name falling off her mouth with mine, but my kiss is a second late. I rock my cock between her wet sheath and reach down with my hand, rubbing that small, pink bundle that makes her shoot into oblivion.

  “Ah! Oh, goddess. Yes. Yes!” she cries. Her legs shake with every jab my cock gives her. I want her to come like this. I want to feel her coat me until I am soaked from her juices. “Faster,” she demands, with a clutch of her hands around my bicep.

  My woman never has to ask twice. I throw her smooth legs in the air and place them on my shoulders. My eyes are locked to where my head peeks from her folds. The head of my cock is already angry and leaking, needing more than just the hug of her sheath. Her blonde tuft above her slit scratches the nerves around my dripping crown.

  Lilith’s cheeks are a lovely shade of pink, and her lips are a dark shade of red. Her eyes are closed, and her lashes leave a shadow against her face. My eyes roam the plains of her body, memorizing every detail the goddess created for me. The bruises on her hip are black and blue, and it has me seething with anger. I’m going to kill that fucker Argent for hurting her.

  I move my hips faster, taking my anger out on her clit with my rock-solid shaft. She is screaming now, clawing at my chest for more, for less, for more again. It makes my chest puff out with pride, knowing it’s me causing her to react like this. No one else. She’s mine. Her scent is in my bed, my home, drenched on my cock. My seed is inside her, binding her to me, and no one else shall ever get to have that.

  She’s mine.

  I drift my hand down to her thigh, and my other hand grips her good hip. I flip her over. I’ve had enough of this teasing. I spread her cheeks apart, marvelling at her glistening pussy. It’s practically crying tears for my cock to come ease the ache she feels.

  “So pretty,” I rumble, giving her a quick lick because I can’t help myself. I need a taste. I always need a taste.

  Keeping the thick of her ass in my hand, I plunge into her tight abyss. Fuck, this is my heaven. Nothing in this world feels better than this. I keep a fast and hard pace, never taking my eyes off where we are joined. Watching my cock slide in and out of her, dripping with her nectar, almost makes me lose it right then and there.

  Her noises are muted by the furs. A part of me wants to pull her head back so the sounds can belong to me again. I want the entire forest to know—no—I want the entire kingdom to know she is mine. They probably already do, but there’s no such thing as overkill when it comes to what is mine.

  Soon, the walls of her pussy clamp around me so tight I can hardly move. My eyes cross, and her orgasm milks my own out of me. I fill her channel with my sticky come, moaning her name like the salvation it is.

  “Angel,” the word is a whoosh out of my lungs as I fall against her. I kiss my way up the column of her neck. I don’t pull out. Not yet. I’m not ready to leave her heat.

  “Does it get better every time?” she asks.

  “Only with us,” I say, kissing the natural path her spine gives me until I’m at the top of her ass where two dimples sit. I kiss those too before working my way up her body again, trailing more kisses along the scars littering her back. It breaks my heart. I wish I could have been there for her, to stop the abuse they rained down on her.

  “Truly? Is it only with us?” she asks, turning over to face me. I slide back inside her, hard enough to continue if we wanted, but it isn’t what she is looking for. She needs validation, which makes sense considering how long we have been apart.

  My brows furrow when I think about what I wish to say. I must be careful with my next words.

  “Lilith,” I start, as seriously as I can. “I’m no saint. I wish I would have waited for you.” I run my knuckles down her cheek, trying to show my love and adoration. “I did for five years. I searched and searched, and I came to the realization that you were dead. I mourned you. I even went to our meadow, laid out flowers, made you a stone with your name on it. I cried for you. I craved you. I wished for nothing more than to see your smile in the sun again, but I knew I wouldn’t. I fell into darkness. I had sex with other women, never more than once because they weren’t you. I wanted to ease the ache. I lost the meaning of life. Nothing made sense. I cared about nothing. I just missed you so fucking much, and there was this void in my heart, the part that you filled, and nothing seemed to ease the pain. I regret it all. When I tell you it will get better every time with us, I mean it. I mean it because I’m going to want you over and over again. I love you. You’re my heart, Angel. I’m so sorry I stopped searching for you. I’m sorry I lost hope.”

  All those feelings I felt all those years ago come rushing back. I look away, not wanting her to see the red tinting the whites of my eyes. The burn is familiar. I’m on the verge of breaking. I remember the ocean in the background, the tall flowers swaying in the breeze, the salt in the air as I said goodbye to her, leaving a piece of me behind in her death.

  Her soft fingers curl under my chin and turn my head back to her, seeing oceans well up in her eyes. “It’s exactly what I wanted you to do. I love you, but if anything happened to me, I’d want you to live your life.”

  “No—”

  “—Beowulf.”

  “No!” I roar. “Life isn’t worth living without you. I’ve lived it before. It’s empty; it
’s meaningless. I want nothing of it if you are not here. Do you understand? I’ll follow you to death, Angel. At least in death, I can be with you again.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do,” I place my lips next to her ear.

  She doesn’t understand that she is my heart. She is the reason it beats with purpose again. She’ll understand in time that the reason for my existence, the reason my lungs expand, and my blood pumps is her.

  I plan to show her every day just how much she changes me as a man.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lilith

  “Someone is happy,” Lady Sassa teases me.

  I push a piece of hair out of my face, my cheeks blushing when I think of the reason why I’m so happy. Beowulf took me roughly behind a large tree. I have scratches on my arse cheeks to prove it. It was so good, though. So primal.

  He saw me in the dress he bought me when he was coming out of the castle and pulled me into the forest. We didn’t even get undressed. He slid my knickers down and pulled his cock free, bringing me to orgasm quicker than I could say his name.

  “How can I not be? I have a good man and my memories back. It’s reason enough to be happy,” I let out a wistful sigh, thankful I no longer have the space in my mind. It was so frightening. Everything was new to me, feelings, smells, touch. It was an overload. I had to learn how to live all over again, and it was maddening. I’m so glad just a kiss from the man I love awakened my memories from the deep sleep they conjured themselves in.

  “You have your memories back!” she squeaks, dropping the basket on the ground and running over to me. “Oh my goddess! Tell me everything. How? When did it happen?”

  “When did what happen?” Lady Thyra strolls through the lavender field, pushing the long stalks out of the way.

  Lady Sassa takes a step away from me and gives me a small smile. It tells me she didn’t know her friend would show up, and it’s fine. I believe Lady Thyra, and I’m not going to keep her at arm’s length because of my fear.

  “I have my memories back,” I tell both of them with a large grin. “I kissed Beowulf when he came back from… burying his brother. Everything rushed forward. It was like a flash of everything I’ve ever seen. And everything about him, about how I felt for him, rushed into my heart and restarted it again. Oh, it was like I wasn’t alive before.” I give a dreamlike sigh and grab a handful of lavender, bringing it to my nose to smell.

  “I’m so happy for you.” Lady Thyra smiles.

  “Thank you. And I’m sorry. I don’t think you’re your mother. I want you to know that. When I saw your eyes, only memories of her came flooding back. It frightened me. She is terrible. I shouldn’t have painted you with the same brush.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice breaks as she runs to me and embraces me in a hug. “Thank you so much. I don’t blame you. I understood. It was hard, but I understood. Oh, we must plan a wedding! I’m only assuming you and Beowulf shall be married soon? I say soon because the way he looks at you could start fires.” She nudges me with her elbow, another teasing gesture.

  The small movement reminds me I’m living a good life now. I’m out of the nightmare. I blush when I think about the heated words he whispered into my ear as we made love the other night. He said he wanted me to be his wife, but he hasn’t asked. Is it the same thing?

  “I’m not sure. Soon, I hope. I feel like we have been waiting all of our lives. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  “I don’t blame you. It’s so romantic.” Lady Sassa swishes her dress as she stares at the blue, cloudless sky. “You’ve known each other all your lives. Both of you have loved one another but never said anything, and you couldn’t be together because of class. He loved you anyway. You loved him anyway. You finally share a kiss, and then life changes, giving you both dark worlds, and you find your way back to each other, bringing light. It’s so sweet.” She dances in the tall rods of the purple flower. “I love it. It’s poetry.”

  It didn’t feel like poetry. What Beowulf and I have lived, I hope no one ever experiences. I know I’m lucky to be reunited with my true love. Many don’t have the same luxury.

  “I hope he asks soon,” I say, wanting to change the subject a bit.

  Lady Thyra grabs my arm. “You mean he hasn’t asked?” her mouth opens with shock.

  “Well,” I start to say, but then realize I have no idea how to phrase what is coming to my mind. I blush. “He said something similar, but it was a statement, not a question.”

  “Oh, I see,” Lady Sassa sits down, tucking her dress under her, shooting me a wink.

  I bite my lip when I think of that moment. Goddess, just the thought has my nipples hard and my thighs warm.

  “You’re blushing!” Lady Thyra laughs, plucking lavender from its home and placing it in the basket.

  “I am not.”

  “Yes, you are!” Lady Sassa agrees.

  I throw flower petals at Lady Sassa. “Fine. I am. I can’t help it. He is so…so…”

  “We know,” they say in unison, speaking of their own men.

  We stay silent for a moment until we all break out in giggles. Apparently, our men are the same in certain ways. We share small talk as the day passes, and there is something nudging the back of my mind. I lay the stem of the lavender down and another memory surfaces. It takes my breath away. Sadness consumes me when I see my father’s grave in front of me. I didn’t know what happened to him then, and I still don’t.

  “Lilith? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I stand on shaky legs and hand over my basket. “I must go.”

  “Do you need help? You are sure you’re alright?”

  I nod. I sway on my feet as I try and get my bearings. A wave of uneasiness washes over me. How could I forget such a thing? Are there other memories that didn’t surface? Goddess, my mother… how is she doing? I can’t imagine what she must be going through. The previous memories that came rushing back were happy, and this one just fills me with dread, completely changing the day.

  I’m no longer happy. I just want to cry. I want Beowulf to take me into his arms and let me grieve my father’s death. It feels new like it just happened. I know that isn’t the case, but I can smell the salt in the air from the ocean and the perfume the wildflowers carry in the wind. It’s sweet. It’s all fresh in the forefront of my mind. I need to know what happened, and I have a feeling Beowulf knows. He must.

  I walk in a daze back to the cabin, trying to understand if I’m missing something crucial. Do I know what happened to my father and I just can’t remember? My heart tells me I truly don’t know, but it isn’t enough. I need more.

  The sun is bright, but the day itself is cold. We were picking lavender because it won’t survive the next snowfall. It’s getting too cold. Half the field was dead from winter, and we couldn’t let the relaxing flowers go to waste.

  But the last day of warmth isn’t enough to bring me out of my depression. I can’t feel the sun. My skin reacts to the cold, and my teeth chatter from the breeze. I just want to get home, curl up in the bed of furs, and try to get over my father’s death that happened over ten years ago.

  I don’t realize how far I have walked until I nearly trip over the tree root that blocks the path every time I journey from the cabin to the castle. It brings me out of my stupor, and that’s when I see a few horses outside tied to a post, tails flicking in the air as they graze on what’s left of the grass under the snow.

  The closer I approach, I turn my head, confused. I think I hear a child’s laugh. That can’t be right. I listen closely and run up the steps when I realize who the child must be. When I open the door, I see Trident, standing against a nearby wall, watching the scene before him unfold with a smile on his face. Beowulf is smiling, with tears running down his face, playing with a small boy who looks just like him. Dark hair, blue eyes. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought it was his son.

  He hears the door shut behind me and looks up, smiling. Tru
ly smiling. He beckons me with his hand.

  “Lilith, Angel, come meet Rian, my nephew. Isn’t he the most handsome boy you’ve ever seen?” I can hear the pride in his voice, and it makes my heart hurt for the loss he is feeling right now. I know he is ecstatic that Rian is alive, but heartbroken that his brother is not.

  I kneel on the ground, and Rian turns his big blue eyes at me. He has the thickest lashes I have ever seen. He has dimples on either side of his cheeks, making him that much cuter.

  “Hello, Rian. My name is Lilith. It’s nice to meet you,” I hold out my hand, and he meets mine with his. It’s so small and fragile. I’m careful not to squeeze it. I don’t want to hurt him.

  “You’re very handsome, Sir Rian.”

  “I know,” he says in a high-childish voice.

  It makes the entire room laugh, but I can tell he has no idea what he said that was so funny. I stand back onto my feet, and Rian runs around the house, exploring his new home. “Looks like you need a bigger house,” I tell him playfully, watching the small boy laugh without a care in the world. He has no idea how much his life has changed.

  “I have no idea what to do. I don’t know how to raise Rian. I know nothing about children,” Beowulf mutters, rubbing his wide fingers through his beard.

  “Have you not wanted kids?” I ask, hoping he says yes because I want them more than anything else in this world.

  “Aye, but now that I have one, I don’t know what to do,” he chuckles, averting his gaze to Trident. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

  “Where was he?” I ask.

  Trident pushes off the wall and starts walking to the front door. “He was wandering in the woods. I stayed behind. I wanted to make sure we didn’t miss anything. I know how much Rian means to you, Wulf. I wanted to show you that I have your back. I care. If you need me, I’m here.”