“I know, brother. Thank you.” Beowulf catches Rian just in time when he trips over a piece of the floorboard that’s broken, and the little boy giggles up a storm. “I owe you my life.”
“I just want your friendship, Wulf.” And with those parting words, Trident leaves, leaving me and Beowulf alone in the cabin.
I watch as Beowulf picks Rian up in his arms, so effortlessly, smiling large as if he is the happiest man on the planet to have his nephew home. Something turns inside me. Heat spreads through my lower abdomen. I realize I want to give Beowulf all the children he wants. I want us to be a family. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Rian yawns and lays his head on Beowulf’s shoulder. His eyes droop until he is quickly asleep, but instead of putting him on the bed, Beowulf holds him close and a little too tight. It’s as if he is afraid Rian will disappear and keeping the small child safe in his arms seems to be his solution.
“He is so handsome. He looks just like you.” I smile, running my fingers over the boy’s soft brown curls on his head.
“Nay, he looks just like my brother. He was always the good looking one in the family.”
“Mmm, I’ll have to disagree,” I slide my eyes up his body and meet his eyes.
His eyes swirl with lust, but we both know it isn’t the proper time to get riled up with a child here now. He lays Rian on the bed finally and sighs before kissing the boy’s forehead. He stands straight, and I have to lean back and tilt my head up to look at his face. He grabs my hand, brings it to his mouth, and kisses my knuckles. He proceeds to take a step toward the door, and I follow behind him until the cold hits our skin.
He leaves the door open to keep an eye on Rian and leans against one of the porch beams, “I have no idea what to tell him. I don’t think he understands what has happened. How do I tell a little boy that his parents are dead? I can’t. I fucking can’t, Angel. There are just so many things this world expects me to do. I don’t think I can do this. I can’t be held responsible for ruining his young life.”
“Honesty is far from ruining his life, my love.” I rush to him and place my hand on his chest. “He will find out, or he will figure it out on his own. You are here because you love him, and he knows that, but if you do not tell him the truth, then that’s when he will feel betrayed and alone. You can’t do that to him.”
Beowulf wraps his strong arms around me. The warmth from his body heats my skin, keeping the chilly air out.
“I know.” He lays his chin on my head and exhales. “I know.”
We stand just like that, for who knows how long. I lost track of time just being wrapped up in Beowulf. When he speaks again, I’m nearly drunk off the scent of him and half asleep. “How was your day?”
“I remembered something else today,” I start, the reminder causes my heart to trip again, and my eyes to burn.
“Really? What is it?” He pushes me away just enough to stare at me with the most excited look a grown man can have. “I’m so happy all your memories are coming back.”
“It wasn’t a good one. I remember my father’s death. I was picking lavender with Lady Sassa and Lady Thyra, and when I placed a stem in the basket, I was thrown into the memory of me standing over his grave.”
“Your father?” His tone is skeptical and wary.
It makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “Do you know something of his death, Beowulf? You’d tell me if you did, wouldn’t you?”
A flash of guilt appears for a moment before disappearing, and the warrior mask falls back into place. “Of course I would tell you. I don’t know anything, Lilith. It’s horrible how he died.”
I nod, relieved he isn’t lying to me. “I must see how my mother is doing. She must be worried sick wondering where I am.”
That’s when Beowulf’s entire body goes stiff, and when he looks at me, he is bewildered. “You don’t know?” He rubs his hand over his mouth, wrinkles crinkling around the edges of his lips. “Of course not. How could you? Fuck. Fuck!” he whispers.
“What is it?”
He grabs my hands tight. Too tight.
“You’re scaring me,” I say, my bottom lip trembling.
“I love you. Remember that with what I’m about to tell you, okay?”
I stay completely still, afraid to move, afraid to speak or breathe.
“Your mother, she couldn’t handle the pain of losing you too, along with your father. She…” he takes a deep breath with a shake of his head. “Fuck, Angel. I’m so sorry; she killed herself. I buried her next to your father when I received the news.”
For some reason, the news is upsetting and devastating, but I’m not reacting like I thought I would. A part of me knew this exact thing would happen, I suppose. I’m a bit numb, and surprised, sad most definitely, but a part of me is at peace knowing for sure.
“I’m glad she found peace.”
“I know this must be a lot to take in. Are you alright?” Beowulf asks.
“As much as I can be. As long as I have you.” I wrap my arms around his waist, needing to be close to him.
“You’ll never have to worry about that.”
Something about the words seem off to me. They are emptier than usual. The way he says them makes that instinct swell up in my belly again.
Something is wrong, but I know he would tell me. I’m overreacting to my mother’s death. That’s all.
Beowulf would never lie to me. I truly, wholeheartedly believe that.
Chapter Nineteen
Beowulf
I’m a fucking coward. I’m a sorry excuse for a man. I lied. I lied right to her beautiful face. Regret eats away at me. She has had enough happen to her lately. I figure sparing her the truth of what happened to her father is the right thing to do. But what if I am wrong?
And the fear of her hating me is enough to keep the words at bay.
“I must go,” I say, needing to clear my head and get some space. I want to figure out a way to tell her the truth, even if it means losing her again. “Watch Rian. I’ll pay you for it when I return.”
“Where are you going?” she asks, turning the stew in the black pot with a wooden spoon.
“Out,” is all I say. She doesn’t need to know I’m going to drink away my guilt and hopefully come back refreshed in the morning. I must put the guilt at ease. Covering it up is my main priority right now.
“Beowulf. What is going on?” she insists, dropping the spoon in the stew as she walks over to me.
“I can’t talk about it right now. I must go.” I kiss her on the forehead and close my eyes, wondering if this will be the last time I get to feel her flesh beneath my lips. I ruffle Rian’s hair and make my exit.
“Beowulf! What is going on? This isn’t like you. Beowulf!” she calls after me, but I never look back. If I do, my resolve will crumble, and I’ll reveal my deepest, darkest secret to her, and I can’t. I’m not ready to live without her again.
I disappear into the dark of the night and head for the stables. A million different thoughts are running through my head about how to approach this terrible situation. There is always something standing in the way of her and me.
At the worst opportune time, I can hear Abram’s footsteps dashing up behind me.
“Sir Wulf! I’ve been cutting logs and lifting bricks for days! When will you be able to start training me?” he asks, with more than a hint of irritation in his voice.
I let out a deep sigh. “Not now, Abram. I’m sorry. But I promise I will train you. Tonight, go clean the stables. Make sure to get every corner. You will need to carry water from the well.”
“Yes, sir,” he grumbles but walks off to do his task. He’s already looking much stronger but doesn’t even realize it.
Needing a friend more than anything right now, I head to the right instead of the left where the stables are and nod to Erik, who is guarding the main wooden door of the castle. I stomp up the steps and make my way down the long hallway until I get to Trident’s door.
&nbs
p; I bring his fist up and knock, careful not to be too loud to wake the babies. Lord Grimkael would not be happy with me if I woke his children up in the middle of the night. Just the thought of what my punishment would be makes my skin crawl.
The door swings open to reveal Trident, half asleep and rubbing his eyes. When he looks up to see who is at the door, he stares at me with wide, shocked eyes. He probably thought I was the last person to show up on his doorstep.
“Wulf? What is it? Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“Aye, but I need to get out. I must talk to you about something.” Trident must hear the seriousness in my voice because he doesn’t say another word. He turns around and grabs his boots and sword and ties his hair back in a leather band.
“Are you alright?” he asks, closing the door behind him.
“No. I want to talk about it over mead. I did something truly foul, Trident. Truly vile. I’ll lose everything if I tell Lilith. Everything.”
Trident nods, but I can tell he wants to ask more. I can’t answer any questions without a tall glass of mead, though. I need it to drown out the hysteria of panic churning my gut. We walk quietly to the stables, nodding to Abram as he struggles to lift a heavy bucket of water.
The night holds a bitter amount of cold. It’s like doom, almost. I can feel the knives of truth closing in on me, twisting the need to speak until I cave.
I hop on Dire, bareback with just reins, and Trident does the same as he hops on Hank. I kick my beast’s sides and dash into the unforgiving night. Darkness swirls around me, filling my soul with pure terror. The hooves thunder against the ground, matching the pace of my pounding heart. Trident is right next to me. The strong legs of the horses carry us further away from the castle and into the village.
We pass a few shops until we get to the run-down pub. It looks like it’s about to fall over. The wood is rotten, the steps are broken, and the only thing to tie the horses to is a nearby tree. Our feet land in the dirt after dismounting our horses, and we walk side by side in silence into the establishment. The old wood creaks under our weight, and despite the owner’s poor attempt to replace a few boards, it still isn’t enough to stop Trident’s foot from falling through.
Splinters fly everywhere, and Trident curses, lifting his foot up along with the rotten board. It’s covered in cobwebs and dust. I can’t help but to chuckle.
“Shut up,” Trident growls, placing his other foot on the board that’s stuck and pushes down while he pries his leg up. “Fucking cheap bastard. He needs to fix this place.”
“Maybe your fat arse must lose some weight instead,” I say, plopping down on a stool. The legs give out, and it sends me to the floor, my tailbone burning with agony from the fall.
Trident looks down at me, not bothering to help me up. “What were you saying about my fat arse?”
“Shut up,” I mock him, using his exact tone of voice, and stand, wiping the dust off my clothes.
We sit there, just the two of his in the empty pub and wait for service… for a while. “Goddess, does anyone fucking work here?” Trident leans over the bar, grabs two goblets, and dips them into the barrel of mead. He slams one down in front of me, and I take the glass in hand and chug it, letting it pour over my beard as it falls from my mouth.
We lapse into silence again, but it isn’t because I don’t want to talk to him. I’m just thinking about what I want to say and how I want to say it. He waits patiently, filling our glasses again. It’s on the third glass where I finally open my mouth to speak.
“I killed Lilith’s father when I was sixteen, and she has no idea.”
It feels good to say it out loud. The weight crushing my chest lets me breathe again, in a way I haven’t really been able to breathe before.
He turns his entire body on his stool, eyebrows raised, and takes a sip of beer. “Shite,” he chokes, spewing out the mead when it goes down the wrong way. “Run that by me one more time?”
I chug the rest of my drink and slam the goblet on the bar, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand. “We weren’t allowed to be friends then, not while Grim’s father was the Warlord. He had strict rules, but we broke them. We were always together.”
I take a deep breath before continuing. “Her father saw us one day, but I had no idea. He must have followed her or something because when she left the meadow to go home, he confronted me with a blade to my neck. He lifted it in the air and told me ‘You’re filling my daughter’s head with fairytales and useless hopes. You’re no good for her’. He brought the sword down, but I’m quick with my blade, always have been, and I blocked it. I can still hear the metal clanking against metal. He was so close to offing my head. I tried to explain that I loved her, and all he did was laugh. I don’t know what happened. My training, maybe? It happened so fast, and then his head was on the ground. I moved his body somewhere else, and the villagers found it, but no one discovered who did it. He was an arsehole of a man, but he was still her father.”
“Good goddess, Wulf.” Trident rubs his temples, taking in the information. “I don’t know how to help. What can I do?”
“I needed to tell someone. She’s asking questions. She’s remembering everything, and she brought up her father today, and it was a punch in the gut. I don’t deserve this woman, Trident, but I can’t be without her.”
“You have to tell her, Wulf. You must.”
“I’ll lose her.” My voice is but a soft hush.
“Probably. I can’t give you the answer you want to hear, but you’ll be an honest man again. You were defending yourself. You were defending her. Maybe she will understand. You have to risk the love you have for her, for her to finally have peace, Wulf. You can’t keep this from her because it shall eventually eat you alive.”
“I know.” He is right.
“The amount of guilt you must be carrying. I’m sorry, brother. Your secret is safe with me, I swear it.”
I slap his shoulder and drink down one more goblet of mead, my brain numb and my heart sore. “Let’s go.”
“What are you going to do?” Trident asks. We do not bother leaving any money since no one helped us.
“I don’t know, Trident.”
“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to do it.”
I get up and sway a bit, stumbling out the door to where Dire is. His hoof is up, his eyes shut. He seems to be asleep. I grunt as I get on his back. We have to trust out beasts to make it back home since we can’t keep our heads up—mead will do that to a man. The entire way home, I wonder if I should just blurt the truth out and have her love turn to hate once and for all.
The journey back home isn’t long enough. I’m not ready to face the confusion in her golden eyes. My departure from the cabin came from nowhere, but she doesn’t understand the demons eating away at me. I had to get out, and it wasn’t fair to leave her to take care of Rian. Rian doesn’t know her well yet and is probably wondering where I went. It’s just another thing to add to the long list of ways I’ve fucked up.
The last time I remember life being this hard was when Lilith was missing, and I searched for her for five years. When I came to the conclusion that she was dead, I buried my guilt along with her because I didn’t think I had to face it. Well, she isn’t dead, and now I must do this. I have the love of my life back, but with that comes the guilt I must face.
“You going to be okay, Wulf?”
“Aye; don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Another lie. I’ll live, yes, but once she heads out that door, I’ll have to learn how to be okay again. I’ve done it once before; surely, I can do it again.
“Thanks for coming with me, brother. I really needed that.” I turn the reins to the left and enter the stables. They are spotless. Abram’s done well.
It has started to snow again, so tonight I’ll have to put a fur on Dire to make sure he doesn’t get too cold. I’m taking my time, brushing his gray hide and silver hair. I don’t remember Trident leaving, but when I go to say goodbye, that’s when I rea
lize I’m alone. “It may just be me and you again for a while, old friend.”
I pat Dire’s neck, and he blows out a breath before nudging my shoulder. Tossing a fur over his back, I lock the stable, dragging my feet to make the short walk home a bit longer.
Impending doom is the only thing I know that is waiting for me. It’s time I be a man and face up to it.
Chapter Twenty
Lilith
I thread the needle through the cloth, careful not to prick my finger as I make Rian a new shirt. The boy is still sleeping. Who knows how long he wandered in the forest for? His clothes are a tattered mess, so I decided to make him an outfit. The pants are already done, and the shirt is about halfway finished. I’ve been working nonstop in a rocking chair that sits directly in front of the door. I had to do something to keep me busy while Beowulf was away. Thinking about what he is doing, who he is with, if he will come home is driving me mad.
Every small sound outside makes my heart jump, thinking he is home, but it ends up being the wind or a small animal running by. It’s late. Well past mid of the night, and Beowulf is nowhere to be seen. I hold the tears at bay, wondering if having Rian and me here is too much for him.
Perhaps I should go? No. The thought of leaving makes my stomach turn. Rian needs a mother figure in his life, and I can easily see myself slipping into the role. Beowulf shall have to talk to me. It’s the only way this can work.
Another reason why I sit in front of the door is to see if Beowulf stumbles home with another woman in his arms or locked to his lips. Or both. My heart would shatter. He has had plenty of experience before, maybe only being with one woman isn’t enough for him.
Thunder shakes the small cabin. I place the needle and thread down, watching as a cold rain begins to pour, clattering against the roof. Even if he doesn’t want me, I worry about him in this weather. Winter can be brutal here. Cold rain could mean sickness, and it can turn to ice, endangering him even further.
Beowulf's Claim (Viking Warriors Book 3) Page 14