Beowulf's Claim (Viking Warriors Book 3)

by Jessica Knight

  But first, I need to prove she can trust me. As much as it kills me, giving her space might show her that I respect what she wants. I’ll have someone keep an eye on her of course, just to make sure she is okay, but I won’t bombard her, no matter how much I want to.

  I’m getting ahead of myself. I must tackle one issue at a time. The first thing I must do is to tell Rian that he will be living with me from here on out because his mother and father died. It’s the one thing I needed to talk to Lilith about to get her thoughts, but I had to go and ruin it. Damn, how do I crush a little boy’s world and tell him everything is going to be okay?

  How do I let the woman I love walk around, angry at me, possibly never wanting to talk to me again?

  How can I convince myself that I’m going to be fine? I miss the days where I used my strength, not my emotions. This is hard. Life with love is almost impossible. I stand with a sigh and lean my arm above the window, watching the rain fall to the ground and lightning bolt through the sky. I hope Lilith doesn’t get sick from her run in this weather. It’s just another thing I won’t be able to forgive myself for.

  “Fucking hell, Wulf. Man up and deal with it. Fix it,” I tell myself. “Do better. Be better. They need better than this fucking wreck that you are.”

  Starting right now, I shall be the man Rian and Lilith need. I may not always get things right, but I’ll always try, and that’s all I can do right now. With new determination and a plan, I stroll back to the bed and lay down, ready for the new day that lies ahead.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lilith

  I’ve cried until the tears have stained the pillow beneath me, and my eyes are swollen and puffy. It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Beowulf, and it’s a week too long, especially since I’ve gone twelve years without him. I can’t seem to face him right now, not with what he told me.

  The first day I was here, I was hurt, devastated, and furious that he could do something like that and still pretend everything was okay. The second day, I sank into a deep depression.

  Beowulf, my sweet, loving Beowulf, killed my father. I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around it. By the third day, I felt betrayed. On the fourth, I tried to think rationally. I hated my father. He was a mean old man who hit my mother and tried to control every move I made. It didn’t mean I wanted him dead, but it also didn’t mean I missed him.

  I tried to make sense of Beowulf’s decision because I want to be on Beowulf’s side. On the fifth day, I gave up trying to make sense of it. And now for two whole weeks, I’ve missed the man who loves me, but I’ve also wondered if he ever loved me at all.

  People who love each other are honest. For him to keep this from me all those years ago, it hurts. The thought that my best friend killed the man who raised me is hard to swallow. The sad thing is, I would be more upset and more unforgiving if Beowulf came home with another woman. So now, I’m wallowing in guilt because I’d be more upset about that, rather than that he killed my father.

  I’m so messed up in the head.

  Right now, I honestly have no idea why I’m crying. I think I’m still processing everything, even though my mind is numb. I’m tired of thinking. I just want to sleep and forget he ever ruined the best sex he has ever given me.

  A knock at the door pulls me from my self-pity.

  “Go away,” I say, cuddling the large pillow and wishing it was my Beowulf.

  “Lilith, you must eat. You haven’t eaten enough.” Lord Grimkael’s deep voice with an underlying tone of authority makes me feel like a child in trouble.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I don’t care. Open this door, or I’ll break it down.”

  I know he means it, too. Lord Grimkael never delivers an empty threat. Sighing, I wipe my face, rolling out of bed to unlock the door. The hinges squeak as he opens it, but I can’t see his face since I’m already laying back in bed, staring at the wall.

  “I’ve brought water, bread, and stew. I’m not leaving until it is all gone.”

  “Lord Grimkael—”

  “An order is an order, Lilith.”

  “I don’t see how Lady Sassa puts up with you,” I grumble, tossing the furs off my body and sit on the edge of the bed. It’s plush and thicker than the one Beowulf has in his cabin. It makes sense since Lady Sassa and Lord Grimkael are wealthy. They have the best of everything, and they always try to make sure the people of the village have the best too.

  He gives me a cheeky grin, plopping his big body in the seat beside the bed to watch me eat. “She wonders that every day, but I have a way of reminding her.”

  My cheeks heat, when I understand his meaning. I keep my face down as I break off a tiny piece of bread and chew it. It tastes like sand. Not because it is bad, but because my taste buds are numb from the constant emotion that has wracked my body.

  “I want to talk about Beowulf.”

  I release a heavy sigh. “If you want me to eat, you won’t say his name, and we won’t speak about him.” It hurts too much.

  “You’ll eat because it’s the only way I’ll leave this room.”

  “It’s the only way I leave this room,” I mock as if I’m a small child, and take a sip of water. When I meet his gaze, a tickle of fear worries me. I’ve just mocked the Lord of the kingdom. I’m really off my rocker. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I don’t know what has gotten into me. I haven’t slept. It’s been… rough, to say the least.”

  “We shall talk about it. Eat.”

  I keep the urge to roll my eyes locked deep. I’ve already mocked him; I don’t need to add to the list of disrespect. The spoon in my hand seems to weigh a million pounds as I dip it into the stew. My stomach growls as the steam off the broth invades my nose. I’m suddenly starved. The Lord and I sit in silence as I eat. It doesn’t take me long to polish off the bowl, bread, and cup of water.

  My stomach still grumbles, and I wish the bowl could suddenly refill itself.

  “By the look on your face, you want more. I can make that happen after we talk about what’s happened with my best warrior. He hasn’t been right in the head since you’ve been in the castle. And he has given me this to give to you.” Lord Grimkael pulls out the shirt I was working on for Rian before… well, before.

  I reach for it and place it in my lap.

  “He asked me to ask you if you would finish it.” He sighs. “I never thought I’d be a messenger boy, but alas, here I am.”

  He spreads his arms before lacing his fingers across his stomach and leans back in the chair. “Beowulf won’t tell me what has happened, but I have a feeling you will. I can help, perhaps, give you some perspective.”

  “What could you possibly say that would make this better? Beowulf killed my father and lied to me about it. He betrayed me.” I sit the food tray on the nightstand and scoot back on the bed until I hit the wall.

  “Hmm, Beowulf is many things, but a traitor isn’t one of them.”

  My mouth falls open when I see him pick a piece of lint off his shirt like he has yet to hear something that catches his interest. “How can you say that? He—”

  “Yes, he killed your father. For you. For his life. For the connection you two shared. I would have done the same. I don’t know if you know this, but I blackmailed Sassa’s father for her hand. An alliance with the Vikings, but only if she was mine.”

  I gasp.

  He smirks. “Aye, she wasn’t too fond of me at first, but she fell in love with me. A dirty plan turned into the best thing of my life. See, I’m ruthless—” he places his elbows on his knees and leans forward. “But Beowulf is a noble man. Should he have lied? No, but this is why he didn’t. This reason, right here. You are here, away from him, and it is his worst fear. He has lived with this for a long time. You think he was happy to kill your father? It’s probably the one death that haunts him.”

  After letting me think about what he said for a couple of minutes, he stands. “I must go. I have a meeting. Think about what I said.” He takes the tray a
s he leaves and disappears out the door, leaving me with a whirlwind of new thoughts.

  I keep tight hold of the half-made shirt and make my way toward the window. The view is beautiful. The lavender field is gone as it has disappeared beneath the snow. Something pulls me to look down, and my breath catches when I see Beowulf on his steed, staring up at me like I’m a damsel locked away in a tower. I’m not sure how long we stay like that, but seeing him makes my heart warm. I forgot why I am mad at him when I see his blue eyes. They are so bright. Even from up here, I can see how colorful they are.

  He looks how I feel. Tired and depressed. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his beard seems longer, a bit unmanageable. He doesn’t get off his horse like I expect him to. I imagined him becoming frustrated waiting for me. I imagined he would burst through the castle doors to throw me over his shoulder. Instead, he gives me my space. Something I never thought he would do.

  He lowers his chin, giving me a slight nod, as if he can hear my thoughts. He tugs on his horse’s reins, and the beast turns left until all I can see is the wide expanse of his back, moving further away from me. I place my palm on the window, wishing he would stay. I never knew loving someone so much would hurt so dearly.

  Once he is far enough away, he is simply a dot on the horizon. I want to pound my fist against the window until it shatters and call out for him, but my damned pride stops me. I’ve loved this man for as long as I can remember, and I can’t seem to get over his lie. Maybe I need more time. I hope that’s all it is because I’ve lived twelve years without him, and those twelve years were the hardest years of my life—for many reasons.

  I do not want to be without him for another twelve years. I want—no—I need to learn to accept what has been done, so I can be with Beowulf again. We have been through so much. I’ve been through so much. I’ve endured whips, chains, knives, and starvation. I convinced myself I would never see anyone I loved ever again. And here I am, in love with the man that kept me alive all those years. I didn’t give up on him then, I shouldn’t give up on him now.

  What’s in the past must stay there. I’ve known for a long time that life without my father would be better, but life without Beowulf is no life at all. With the new revelation, I sit on the bed, emotions churning wildly. I start threading the needle through the shirt again. My hands are shaking; my nerves are getting the best of me. I know if I finish this and give it back to Beowulf, it is a sign of hope.

  With a few accidental pricks on my finger from the needle, I literally pour blood, sweat, and tears into perfecting the small shirt for Rian. I know he must know by now that his parents are dead. That only gives me more determination to finish what I’ve started. Sure, Beowulf can buy him clothes, but this is something entirely different. This is made with love.

  Love for Beowulf. Love for Rian. Love for my family. Beowulf has been the only family I’ve ever really had and needed. To turn my back on him now, while he did something he had to do to protect me, would be the biggest mistake I could make in this second chance life has given me.

  A knock at the door sounds again, and this time when I open it, no one is there. I glance down to see a bundle of wildflowers at my feet with a note perched against them. I can tell the writing is Beowulf’s. It’s messy. I remember trying to teach him every day how to make his handwriting neater, but nothing ever worked. His hands are so big; they swallow the quill as he writes.

  I bend over and bring the flowers to my nose, inhaling the sweet scent. He must have travelled for flowers because the winter should have killed them all by now. The fact that he did that for me makes me unfold the parchment with newfound excitement.

  The message is simple.

  Angel,

  I love you more than the flowers love the sun.

  −Wulf

  “Cannot stand it that he calls himself that,” I mutter to myself. His name defines him; it is strong and gallant. I can never get enough of hearing it.

  “Oh, I love you too, Beowulf. If you only knew that you are my sun.”

  When I decide to leave the castle, I intend to make sure that is the first thing I tell him. I want him to know just how much I love him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Beowulf

  “Come on, Lord Grimkael. It’s been three and a half weeks. I want to be able to talk to her.”

  Lord Grimkael crosses his arms over his chest, widening his stance to block the entryway. “Sorry, Wulf. I can’t allow it.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” I ask, getting irritated. I know she wants to see me. I feel it. Every day that has gone by, right before I have the gift delivered to her door, we watch each other through the window, and it lasts longer and longer every time. I’ve left flowers, books, furs, meat, fruit. I’ve written love letters for the first time in my life. It’s a bit embarrassing to think about, but I will do anything for her.

  Some of those letters may or may not involve me saying what I want to do to her hot little body.

  “Both. Sassa says no. I listen to Sassa. She runs this. If she is happy, I am happy, and that means the kingdom is happy. Sorry, Wulf. If she wants to talk, she’ll find you.”

  “Fuck.” I run my fingers through my hair and spin around on my heel. It’s been long enough. I’m sick of this shite. I’m about to take her over my shoulder and run away with her. I’m sick of giving her space. I know her. She is stubborn, and that’s the only reason why she hasn’t come down from that tower.

  I’m giving her three more days. After that, I’m throwing her stubborn arse over my shoulder and taking her back home. A home that I’ve expanded the last few weeks that she has been gone.

  It’s been hard with Rian. My schedule has changed, and with her in the castle, away from us, finding how to take care of a little boy with a gentle finesse has been difficult, to say the least. She wanted to stay with Rian and watch him, and considering he doesn’t have a mother anymore, he needs that.

  Telling him his parents weren’t coming back because they died was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. He is too young to understand death. He asks me every day when they are coming home, and every day I sit him down and tell him they aren’t. It’s a constant time loop of pain, and it is pure torture. I need Lilith back. I need her to help me because I’m out of my element, and I have no idea what I’m doing with Rian.

  Right now, he is with Trident, doing goddess knows what. I love Trident, but for all I know, he is teaching Rian how to chug a goblet full of mead. If it wasn’t for Trident, these last few weeks would have been so much harder, but it was—is—important to me to give Lilith the space she needs. She had my lie to deal with, the real way her father died, and maybe taking on a four-year-old child. It’s a big change in someone’s life. I never expected she would just nod her head and accept it, even though I hoped she would.

  I think she has accepted it, though. Now the hard-headed little minx is just giving me a run for my sanity.

  “Wait, Wulf!” Lord Grimkael shouts after me, right as my hand lands on the horn of the saddle.

  I turn my head over my shoulder and lift a brow, wondering what else he could tell me.

  “I forgot to give this to you.” He tosses something in the air, and my hands shoot out to catch it before it hits the ground. “Compliments of your lady.” Lord Grimkael departs with a knowing smirk.

  Confused, I unfold the material in my hand. I can’t help but to imagine the worst. My heart soars when I see what it is. It’s a shirt. It’s a fucking shirt. It’s the shirt she was working on for Rian. She finished it.

  “Yes! Fuck yes!” I shout, pumping my fist in the air in celebration. I know exactly what this means. It’s hope. Pure fucking hope, and I’m going to make the kid wear this shirt every damn day.

  I look up to her bedroom window and see her staring at me with a big smile on her face before turning around and disappearing.

  Oh, I’m coming for her. She is mine. I hope she knows her days are numbered at the castle. Three day
s. Countdown begins. I’ve already given her too much time already. I should have taken her back to the cabin already.

  But my happiness is cut short when the horn from the south wall rips through the air. I grab a hold of Dire’s mane and pull myself up, swinging my leg over his back. Lord Grimkael runs out of the castle, his hand at his sword.

  He points to me. “Go, Wulf! Go. I’ll meet you there. Hurry!” he shouts before running to the side of the castle where Beast, his horse, is.

  I nod, kicking Dire in the sides. He rears his two massive front legs in the air, neighing to the goddess. I steal a quick glance at the window and see Lilith. Her hands are against the glass, and she is shaking her head, telling me not to go.

  But I have no choice. I must ride to protect her. To fight for her.

  And I shall win.

  Dire falls to his front legs and takes off before I can tell Lilith that I love her. A twinge of sadness floods through me, but it’s soon replaced with hope. I shall tell her soon, victorious upon my return.

  Dire’s legs carry me further away from Lilith and closer to the danger threatening the kingdom. Branches whip me in the face, and the cold air dries my lips. The large stone wall comes into view, and warriors are sliding down ropes from the top.

  Not waiting for Dire to come to a complete stop, I hop off and let him wander on his own. “What’s going on? Who sounded the horn?”

  “Abram,” Trident explains.

  Wait, Trident. “Where is Rian?” I ask and start to panic. He can’t be on his own. He is too young.

  “Your Lady has him. I made sure he was safe. I handed him off to Lady Sassa, who said he would be looked after. Don’t worry. He is in good hands.”

  Thank goddess. The Ladies have him. Damn, he will probably never want to come back home with me once he gets a woman’s nurturing.