“Thank you.” I place my hands on my hips and took a look around. Warriors have their bows drawn, aiming them at whatever lies beyond the wall. “What’s going on? Why did he sound the horn?”
“We have a Jackal on the other side seeking sanctuary. A young boy. He must be even younger than Abram.”
“A decoy? Must be. It is exactly what they would do. They want us to be off guard when they attack.”
Trident rubs his hand over his face, thinking about what I just said. “I don’t know. The kid looks pretty beat up like he just escaped hell. He says he knows Lilith.”
“What?” I snap at him, grabbing a rope to start pulling myself up the tall stone. Plastering my feet against the wall, I use the strength of my arms and climb. Sweat is dripping down my face by the time I get to the top. Abram is the only one in the tower, but the Warriors have lined each side of it with their bows. I can’t believe Warlord Einarr let his son take over watch. Unless…
“Does your father know you are here?” I ask as I bring myself over the wall.
“No. I didn’t expect to actually blow the horn. I just want to make myself useful,” Abram says.
“He shall be here any minute. I got it from here. Go.”
“But—”
“I said go!” I roar, snatching the horn from his hand. “You could have gotten yourself killed. You are not ready for this.”
“I would be if you would train me!” He stomps his foot. He actually stomps his foot like a child. But he still doesn’t realize his newfound strength. Not yet.
Twigs snap on the other side where the Jackal is, and I push Abram behind my back to protect him. The last thing I need is for the Warlord’s son to get killed on my watch. Einarr would have my head.
“State your name and what you want,” I order the stranger.
He has his hands lifted as he comes closer. I can actually see him now. He is bruised and bleeding, no shoes on his feet, and his right eye is swollen. His blonde hair is matted with muck and blood. His shirt is torn. He looks like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.
This boy is no threat. Without our help, he will die.
“Son of a bitch,” I sigh, grabbing a rope from a bucket and toss it over. “Abram, tell your father to have Leiva ready. This boy needs medical attention.”
“Yes, sir,” he scurries back and slides down the rope, disappearing from sight.
The rope tugs again, and soon Trident has taken Abram’s place, lifting his bushy brows as I make my way down the wall. “Wulf! You think I’m going to let you go without backup.”
“He is just a boy. I don’t need backup,” I grumble, ignoring the look on his face that says he doesn’t believe me.
Once I’m halfway down, I let go of the rope and jump. My feet hit the ground with a hard thud, and I keep my hand at my sword, just in case Trident is right.
“What’s your name, boy?” I ask, taking a slow step forward. The closer I get, the more I see just how miserable the boy is. He smells of sweat and urine. Tears have left clean rivers on his face, cutting through the dried blood and dirt on his face.
“Alaric, sir,” his tired voice shakes. “Please, don’t hurt me. Please. I mean you no harm. I just want to rest. I’ll be on my way. Please, don’t kill me.” He begs for his life and falls on his knees. “All I ask is that if you do, you kill me now and let it be quick. I’m tired of suffering, sir.”
Fucking hell, I’ve turned into a big pile of mush. Why do I care? The old me would have not trusted this boy, and I would have given him exactly what he is asking me for, but Lilith deserves a kinder man than that. So I must ask myself what she would do. “What’s your last name?”
He lifts his eyes from the ground and fresh tears well in his eyes. “Last name?”
“Aye, who do you belong to?”
“No one. I have no last name.”
Goddess. Children who don’t have a last name are considered a disease. They have a stigma that if no one wanted them, there must be a good reason. “Why?”
“I’ve never known my parents. I only remember the Jackals. I won’t bother you. I promise.”
I know promises mean nothing, but he doesn’t. He is too young. He may have experienced the worst of life, but there is still an innocence about him that lets him think a man’s word, a promise, actually means something.
“How do you know Lilith?” I kneel in front of him, and his eyes widen when he sees how close my blade is to him. His lips are cracked and bleeding, and his tongue flicks out to try and give them lubrication, but he winces. If he doesn’t die from his injuries, the cold will take him soon.
“She was in the cell next to me. I’ve known her since I was seven.”
“Goddess since you were seven? How did you know she was here? Who sent you?” I place the tip of my sword against his throat.
“I didn’t know where else to go. I heard them saying they dropped her here and that somehow she lived. One of the Jackals slipped up and got too drunk and passed out near my cage. I grabbed the keys, and I ran here.”
“You know where they live? You know how to get there? Could you draw a map?” I ask as fast I can, excitement taking over. This is our chance. This is how we can beat them and wipe them off the map.
“Aye, I can. I’ll do anything you want. I just want to see Lilith again. Is she okay? Is she… dead?”
“She is—” but the boy’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and his body falls limp to the ground. I grab his head right before it smashes against a rock.
“Fuck.” I sweep my eyes around the woods to make sure we are alone. A part of me doesn’t trust this kid, but like the mad fool idiot I am, I’m going to take his promise and believe him.
When I see that we are safe, I throw his body over my shoulder and make my way to the rope. I start to wonder how this village has gone from royalty, to Viking, to a haven for people running from Jackals.
Times are changing. And I have a feeling that change isn’t going to come easy.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lilith
Watching Beowulf go running into danger makes everything fall into perspective. What if something happens to him and he can’t come home? What if he dies? I clutch my hand over my heart at the thought of it. I must get my head on straight. At some point, he and I have been playing a game to see who would break first and go running into the others arms. Both of us are too stubborn for our own good—something must give.
And I want it to be me.
“Lilif?”
I smile at Rian, who is staring at me with tired eyes. He can’t pronounce my name, and it is the cutest thing I have ever heard.
“Yes, sweetheart?” I bend down to his level and push his hair out of his face. Those curls only make him cuter. He has all the women around here wrapped around his finger. And he knows it.
“Can I have some food? I’m hungry,” he asks, yawning.
“How about you take a nap first, and then we shall eat?” He just had a bowl of a stew, so I know he isn’t that hungry.
He nods, rubbing his eyes with his tiny fist. “Is Uncle Woof coming back? I miss him.” His bottom lip trembles. “I want my mommy.” Fat tears start to roll down his sweet face, and it causes a lump to swell in my throat.
Oh, goddess. My eyes burn, but I stay strong. He doesn’t need me to fall apart. Rian needs someone to be strong for him. I bring him into my arms and let him cry on my shoulder. His face settles in the crook of my neck, and his tears wet my skin. “I know you do, sweetheart. I know.”
“Where is she? Where is my daddy?” he wails. “I want them!”
He screams and tries to fight his way out of my hold. It breaks me. I wish I could give him what he wants, but all I can do is be there for him now and be there through his pain.
After several minutes of this, he finally loses steam and droops low. I pick him up, resting his head on my shoulder and perching him on my hip. Bouncing him a bit, I pace the bedroom floor until his breaths are even. I should put him
down on the bed, but my arms won’t listen to my brain to release him. I want him to feel loved. I want this little boy to know he has people in his life that care.
“Beowulf is back. He is in the medical corridor.”
I pause mid-step and stare at Lady Sassa. I try and remain calm. I have a four-year-old in my arms, and children have a way of picking up on emotions. Waking him is the last thing I want to do. The walls around me feel like they are closing in. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.
“Is he hurt?”
Lady Sassa’s dress sways back and forth when she enters the room from the doorway. Her hand lands on my arm, squeezing it lightly. “He is fine. The boy they found is not. Those Jackals… goddess if that boy survives, it will be a miracle. Wulf says the boy’s name is Alaric and that he knows you.”
My knees buckle at the name. Lady Sassa holds her arms out to steady me. Rian groans, rubbing his cheek against my shoulder before resting again.
“What did you just say?” My stomach turns, my skin heats, and saliva floods my mouth. “Take him. Take him!” I say. She snatches Rian from my hold in time for me to run to the window, open it, and heave up my lunch. This can’t be. It can’t be Alaric.
My hand lands on my forehead. I’m in a state of shock. “It can’t be. He is dead. He must be dead. They said they were going to kill him. Oh, goddess.”
I left him there. I could have helped him in some way. I didn’t even try. I heave again, my throat burning, and my muscles clenching from the force. A wet cloth is placed on the back of my neck, and it helps immensely.
“Thank you,” I whisper, bringing my hand back to hold it, so Lady Sassa doesn’t have to.
“Are you okay?”
I turn around to see her bouncing Rian like I was. “I never expected to hear that name again. I never expected to see him again. He was with me for years. We grew close. I’ve never had a brother, but he came close.”
My stomach rolls again and my other hand flies to it. “I’m just shocked. Is he okay? I must go see him.” I loosen the string on my dress to allow my stomach to not be encased in something so tight. My breasts are sore lately, and I just want to relax in my nightie so my body can breathe.
Her eyes soften. “I don’t know. Leiva says he has serious injuries. Only time will tell. Can I ask you something personal?”
I gasp at her implications. “No! I never had sexual relations with Alaric. That’s… he is but a child, Lady Sassa.” I have never been so insulted in my life.
“I wasn’t going to say that.” She lays Rian down on the bed of furs, tucking him in like a good mother would. “I was going to ask when your last monthly was.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Her cheeks flush, and she takes a step back toward the door. “I mean nothing by it. I just thought… with your sickness and emotions, I thought…”
“You thought that I was pregnant? No. That’s—”
But it isn’t impossible. Beowulf and I have had a lot of sex. I have been feeling off the last few weeks, but I just thought it was because I missed Beowulf, not because my body was changing.
“Goddess.” I place my hand over my stomach and smile. I’m carrying Beowulf’s child. So much is happening. I can’t process it all.
It’s a dream.
“I’m going down to see if Leiva needs help with anything. Do you wish for me to send Beowulf up?”
“No, I need time to wrap my mind around this alone. Thank you, Lady Sassa.”
But something in her eye tells me she is up to something no good. “I’m going to take Rian back down to him, then.”
I nod, but I have the urge to rip him out of her arms. I have no right to feel that way. I’m not his mother. Soon, I’m alone in my room with a buzz. I may not be Rian’s mother, but I’m going to be someone’s. How will I tell Beowulf? Did he want children so soon? Especially since Rian is here. It will be chaotic.
The door opens and closes again. I rub my temples. I love Lady Sassa, but she has a hard time leaving something alone. “Lady Sassa, please—”
“Not Lady Sassa.”
The rough voice causes a whirlwind of heat to swirl in my belly.
“Beowulf,” I whisper.
He prowls toward me, tossing his sword on the ground. He reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt off, his hard muscles flexing. His abs remind me of the washboard I use for our clothes. Oh, I’d love to wash my linens on his body. Then I’d smell of him all day. Something about it leaves the space between my thighs wet because I know what would happen if I attempted to use him for something like washing clothes. He’d flip me over and show me how to properly use his body.
“You’ve driven me mad, Angel.” His coarse hands tug his pants off. Beowulf kicks the very unwanted material off, and he stands before me like a god. All strength. His body is sculpted to my every desire. His dark chest hair travels low to the thick tuft above his low, swinging cock.
He takes another step closer, causing my breath to speed up. I can smell him. Sweat and forest. A warrior. I just want to bottle it up and bathe in it. In him.
“Do you know how much I’ve wanted you over the weeks?” His knuckles brush my heated cheeks. His cock is in front of my face. My eyes are glued to the magnificent flesh that is hardening before my eyes. “And knowing I couldn’t have you because you needed time away from me, I almost went mad.”
“Beowulf. We can’t do this here. Alaric is here—”
“And he is asleep. My priority is you. It’s always you. And I’m done giving you space. I must know if you want me. If you can forgive me. Or is the love I have for you alone?”
“You shall never be alone as long as I live and breathe. I forgave you weeks ago, I just didn’t know how to tell you.”
“I know. You are just as stubborn as the day is long.”
“I’m sorry.”
His hands, rough and calloused from hard work, slide down the curve of my neck. The mastery of his touch steals my breath. His fingers trace my collarbone until my dress gets in the way of his exploration.
“Nay, don’t apologize. It’s me who should. I kept a dark secret from you in my soul. But I only did it to protect us. I could not bear to be apart from you again. Not now. All I can ever ask for is forgiveness.”
“Beowulf,” I gasp, my heart bursting. I cannot tell if I am crying or bursting apart in lust.
“From here on out, no more secrets. No more darkness. I am yours, and you are mine.”
“I—I’m yours.”
He rips my dress down the middle, and my tender breasts pop out, sending a shiver through me. Oh, how I’ve missed his touch. How I’ve needed him.
“I’ve always known I am yours.” My eyes flutter shut as he twists my nipple between his fingers. They are so tender. Much more tender than usual. The sensation ratchets up my spine.
He doesn’t know that I’m pregnant or that I think I’m pregnant. I could be wrong, but I was due for my monthly last week, and it didn’t come. I haven’t even thought of the possibility that I could be with child.
“Aye, and I have missed you.”
His fingers dance over my ribs, dipping into the curve of my waist and skim to the middle. The light touch makes goosebumps travel across my body. Beowulf tugs on my dress until I’m bare before him. His fingers trail down between my legs, leaving fire in their wake. My body trembles from the storm of desire thundering in my core.
He spanks my slit, and my legs uncontrollably shake. “Oh, I think you like that,” he hums in appreciation when he feels how wet I am. “I’m so fucking hard for you. Do you see what you do to me? I can’t wait to feel this tight heat around my dick.”
I whimper when I look down between my legs to see his erect cock hard and leaking fluid over his belly button. It’s pointing straight in the air, begging to be touched. I love it when he says filthy words to me. I grab my mounds in my hand and pull on my nipples. He is turning me into a wanton, desperate harlot for him.
> And I love it.
“Please, Beowulf. I need you.”
“Say it again.”
“I need you. I always need you. I’m sorry for all these weeks we have been apart. Never again. I can’t live—I can’t breathe without you. I love you.”
He slams his mouth to mine, diving his tongue between the lips that have only ever been his. His tongue is smooth like the finest silk. He licks every corner of my mouth, devouring me like I’m his favorite meal. I tilt my hips up, effectively lining the thick head of his cock between my folds. He grunts deeply but doesn’t move.
I feather my fingers over his back, the muscles twitching beneath my touch, and once I get to his pert bottom, I squeeze the globes in my palms and yank him forward. I have waited too long for this. I shall not wait a moment longer. We groan in unison as his cock finally sheathes inside me.
“Dirty and impatient,” he tsks. “Naughty, Angel.”
I bite his lower lip and let go of it with a pop. “I want you.”
“You’ll have me,” he rumbles. “It’s going to be hard and fast.”
“If I wanted slow and soft, I’d be with another man.”
He wraps his fingers around my neck again but doesn’t tighten his hold. I trust him and the way he caters to the dangerous side of my desire, pushing the boundary just a little. It turns me on. He knows exactly what I need and want before I have to say anything.
“You’ll never speak of being with another man when we are in bed with my cock inside you,” he snarls against my lips.
“Barbarian.”
He thrusts forward with one hard stroke. “Nay, woman. Viking.”
And Beowulf starts the rhythm he promised. It’s hard and fast. His muscles flex and ripple as he takes me like the warrior he is.
“Yes, goddess, Beowulf. More. Harder.”
He flips me over in a quick move and slaps my ass, thrusting his cock back inside me. He holds onto my hips, using them as leverage to gain speed and force. I can’t even recognize the sounds that are falling from my mouth. Every inch of him is hitting every single nerve in my pussy.
Beowulf's Claim (Viking Warriors Book 3) Page 17