Beowulf's Claim (Viking Warriors Book 3)

by Jessica Knight

  “I’m so worried. My stomach has just been a mess. I’m all tied up in knots. This isn’t like her. She doesn’t do these sorts of things. I’m worried the Jackals have her. Goddess, I don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s my best friend. I already miss her.”

  “Oh, Lady Sassa. Come here.” I pull her into a tight hug, letting the Lady of the kingdom cry on my shoulder. “She is smart and strong. She will be home soon.” But even as the words leave my mouth, they leave a repugnant taste. The Jackals are ruthless people. Wild and soulless. They will kill whoever they want, take whoever they want, and rule whatever they want.

  They will destroy everything in their path just for a sad little apple tree. Truly horrible people.

  “Einarr will lose his mind if something happens to her. He loves her fiercely. She is the only one to talk him down from being absolutely heartless,” she says with a teasing smile. Her eyes meet mine, and she is fighting back tears. Her eyes crinkle around the corners, and her lips purse, keeping whatever she is about to say locked away.

  I’m not the type to push. I truly believe that if someone wishes to tell me something, they will tell me on their own accord. “He is a very intimidating man.”

  “He will become murderous without her. You don’t understand. She is what keeps him grounded. She is what keeps him from losing himself. I know she loves her father, but Lord Troy is much more capable of taking care of himself in these conditions than she is. The Jackals won’t be kind to a beautiful woman such as herself. Goddess.” Her face falls into her hands. She must be imagining Lady Thyra with the Jackals as we speak.

  No, they won’t be kind. Jackals aren’t known for being kind. I can speak to that myself. I truly hope for Lady Thyra’s sake that she is safe. I wouldn’t wish that hell on anybody, not ever.

  Lady Sassa pulls away when Alaric comes limping to the other side of the bench. He has made a pretty quick recovery for only waking up a day ago. Although, it seems he will always walk with a limp. The Jackals broke a bone years ago, and it never healed properly. Leiva cannot do anything about it.

  “Alaric, how are you feeling?” Lady Sassa asks through sniffles and teary eyes.

  He waves his hand as if how he feels does not matter. “I’m fine. Nothing a little rest can’t fix. Plus, I love the snow. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it.”

  “Because you were in that cage!” Lady Sassa cries. “Goddess, that’s where she is. I know it. She shall never see snow again. I must go. I… I…” Lady Sassa runs across the yard, barely missing the wee ones who are throwing snowballs at each other and runs inside the castle.

  “Was it something I said?” Alaric kicks the snow with his feet, staring down at the ground with furrowed brows. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”

  “No, nothing like that. You and I may have dealt with this before, but she has not. She is worried about her friend. Lady Thyra has gone missing since you woke up. She is worried the Jackals have her.”

  “Goddess, I hope not.”

  “Are you okay?” I finally question him. I haven’t been able to get much alone time with him since he woke up. Rian takes up all my time. Guilt chews at me, and I suck my bottom lip into my mouth. One of the memories I have is being slung over a shoulder and leaving the cage. Alaric crawled on his hands and knees, gripping the bars of his cell as he watched the Jackals take me away. I’ll never forget the fear in his eyes. It will haunt me for the rest of my life.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Whatever for?” His blue eyes widen, and his lashes are long, almost touching his brows. His cheeks are red from the cold, and black bruises darken his face where the Jackals beat him. I take his hand in mine, and my thumb rubs over the cuts on his hand. Every inch of him has been harmed.

  “For not coming for you sooner. I don’t know if you know this, but I couldn’t remember anything when I woke up here. I didn’t even remember Beowulf.”

  “No! You loved him. You spoke of him every chance you got.”

  I give him a sad smile, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, so it stops blowing in the wind and stinging my face. “I couldn’t remember, so I couldn’t remember you either. I just want to let you know that I’m so sorry.”

  “It isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. Plus, they change places all the time, remember? When I left, it wasn’t the same place that you were in. They will only be there for a few more weeks before they uproot themselves again.”

  “Beowulf will stop this madness. It’s going to come to an end.”

  “Evil never ends, Lilith. Never.”

  “But good always prevails.”

  His smile is tight, a bit hopeless. “I hope you are right for everyone’s sake.”

  A horn sounds from a distance, but it is from the North wall, where people come and go as they please.

  “Beowulf,” I whisper in the breeze and stand, looping my arm through Alaric’s and pulling him behind me as I hurry to the main gate.

  “Slow down. My leg.”

  My hands cover my mouth in a horrendous realization that I could have hurt him further. “I’m sorry. I’m so excited to see if it is Beowulf. He may have news.”

  “I know. I know. It’s fine.”

  “Rian! Come on. Uncle Beowulf may be home.”

  “Uncle Beowoof! Uncle Beowoof!” he squeals, throwing himself into my arms. I swing him around, legs spanning out as we spin in a circle and plop him on my hip.

  “You are truly adorable, boy,” Alaric bops Rian’s nose.

  Rian wrinkles the cute button, clearly not liking what Alaric thinks of him. “I’m a big man now. I am not adorable. I’m like my Uncle Beowoof. I’m handsome. Right, Mommy Lilif?”

  I gasp, not believing the words I just heard. He has never called me that before. I want to turn back the time and hear it all over again. I try and find my voice, but it’s stuck. I press a kiss to his forehead and smile, pressing the urge to cry away from sheer bliss. “That’s right, sweet boy.”

  He gives me a big grin, showing dimples on his cheeks. My mind travels to my child. Beowulf’s child. Will our baby be a boy? Or a girl? Will they have dimples? I hope they have Beowulf’s sweet side, but brutal when need be, so they can protect themselves better than I can.

  With Rian’s head of curls on my shoulder and Alaric holding onto my other arm to help himself trudge through the snow, we finally walk under the bridge that connects the east and west side of the castle.

  We round the east tower, and finally, I see them. Beowulf, Trident, and Jericho. In Beowulf’s hand is Lady Thyra’s cloak. He has a smile on his face despite how it may look that he is holding a piece of her clothing, but she is not with them.

  The closer I get to him, I see smudges of dirt on his face and clothes. It looks like he had a play in the mud. Just what has he been up to?

  “Angel,” he says with a large, sparkling white smile. He reaches for me with one hand and jerks me forward. I yelp, but he shushes me up quickly with his kiss. “I’ve missed you.”

  The rushing of boots sloshing through the snow has me turning around to see Warlord and The Lord rushing to Beowulf. They look menacing. Their fur cloaks flowing behind them, scowls deepening the slight wrinkles on their face, and Einarr’s eyes dart to Jericho, a flash of murderous rage swimming in them.

  “Tell me you have something,” Lord Grimkael grows.

  “Oh, I have something. Warlord, Lady Thyra is brilliant.” Beowulf hands over the cloak, and Warlord Einarr brings it to his nose, inhaling deeply.

  I see him as a different man in that moment. His eyes close, letting his love’s scent coil through his veins again. He seems at ease, and the scar on his face relaxes. “It smells of her still.”

  Lady Sassa wasn’t joking. He truly is a different person when it comes to his wife.

  “She hung her cloak in a tree right above a secret trapped door. It was covered with snow, and it goes deep into the ground, but Lord, there are tunnels. You know the tunnels beneath th
e castle? They are connected to those, and they travel underground in the directions of North, South, East, and West. This is our way to defeat the Jackals.”

  “Then where is she? Why isn’t she back?” Warlord Einarr steps forward, clutching the cloak to his chest.

  “I’m assuming her father is down there too. I think Lord Troy stumbled upon the door himself at some point in his life, told Lady Thyra, and that is why Lady Thyra went. She knew where her father would be. Why he would be down there, I have no idea.”

  “Why didn’t you stay and look for them? Why didn’t you bring her to me!”

  I press Rian’s head against my shoulder, shielding him from the venomous tone. He starts to cry, holding his arms out for Beowulf, but with how close the Warlord is to losing his mind, I don’t want Rian caught in the aftermath.

  “Because I thought it would best to come back here so we can assemble the army and take the Jackals by surprise, through the tunnels.”

  Einarr takes a step back and turns away, leaving everyone gaping from his random departure. I have an inkling I know what he is thinking… what if Lady Thyra never comes back? What will happen to our warlord then?

  Chapter Thirty

  Beowulf

  Rian is asleep in his new room, and Lilith’s body is calling me to devour her. I lean against a beam, drinking a pint of mead and watch her chop carrots and potatoes for the stew. She has been quiet tonight since I’ve been back from the journey. Honestly, my ego expected more of a homecoming, but Lord Grimkael gave specific orders that we shall leave at the break of dawn and attack the Jackals.

  She’s afraid for me. Studying her, her hands shake before she uses the knife. She is rubbing her hands more on her apron, not to wipe them clean, but out of a nervous habit. Lilith hasn’t glanced up at me once.

  “If I was a delicate man, your silence would break my heart.” While she makes me softer, and not hearing the sweet lyrical sound of her voice saddens me. It would be worse if we were fighting, but since we aren’t, my ego is still intact, and I know just the way to get my woman to loosen up. “Come on, Angel. Come relax with me.”

  “I can’t relax, Beowulf. Don’t ask for such preposterous things.” The love of my life brushes her hands on her apron again, and the scratch of the material almost makes my ears bleed. How her hands aren’t raw, I’ll never know.

  I sit my goblet down on the counter and make my way around the block of wood that Lilith uses to cut our fruits, vegetables, and meats. Wrapping my hand around her wrist, I pull her flush against my body. Her swollen breasts push against my chest, and my cock swells instantly. “Why are you so mad? What did I do, Angel?”

  She turns her head away from me, her eyes fixating on the wooden planks of the floor. Her chin wobbles, and with a shake of her head, she wipes a tear away. “I don’t want to talk about it. It won’t matter.”

  “Everything you say matters.” My hands find her lower back, and I hold her tight. Her cheeks flush when she gets a good feel of how hard she makes me. Mmm, I just want to lift her leg around my waist and dive face first into that pussy. I know it is wet and ready for me, sweet like honey in spring.

  My mouth waters from the thought.

  “What if you don’t come back tomorrow? What if… what if this is the only time we have together? This small amount of time isn’t enough after being away from you for so long. You could die tomorrow, and I’d be left here without you, again, with your child and Rian. I’d miss you. You can’t go, Beowulf, please. Not when I just got you back. I’m begging you. Don’t go.”

  Her golden eyes glow when sadness fills them. I hate it when she cries, but one thing beautiful comes out of it. The color becomes vivid and bright, locking me in her sorrowful gaze. I’m enamored, completely entranced by her beauty.

  “Angel, I always come home.”

  “What if you don’t?”

  “Angel—”

  “No, don’t you ‘Angel’ me. This is serious. This isn’t a regular battle, Beowulf. This is war. You may be fighting a thousand Jackals, against what? An army of three hundred warriors? It is a death sentence. We shouldn’t provoke the Jackals. We should leave them alone.”

  “Vikings do not cower,” I growl.

  “Vikings also die.”

  “Everyone dies. Listen to me,” I take her hands in mine and set them against my chest. “Do you feel that? It’s strength, Lilith.”

  She scoffs.

  “No, listen to me. I was born a warrior. I have it in my blood. I’ve been in a hundred battles. Before you came back, I actually would go to war and not care if I died.”

  “Beowulf!”

  “It’s true. I had nothing to live for, and I was still the best warrior Lord Grimkael has. Can you imagine the force I’ll become when I have something to come home to now? I have you. I have our child,” I rest my hand against her belly, “and I have Rian. I’m not going to have him lose someone else again. I’m strong. The Jackals are not stronger. Wilder? Yes. You are forgetting while they may have a thousand men against our three hundred, we are three hundred men equivalent to three thousand. We are trained. They are not. Numbers mean nothing against us.”

  She lays her cheek against my heart and sighs, listening to the quick beat. “I can’t go another day without the sound of this.” Her voice is low. I can barely hear it over the boiling stew, but the infliction behind the words are felt.

  “You are my home, Beowulf. All those years, you thought I loved the sun and its warmth. You never put together that you are my sun; you heat my world; you are my fire. My day starts when you rise, and it ends when you rest. I’ve lived in a world where you do not exist. I never want to experience it again. That world is a very lonely, dark, and cold place. And how could it be anything else? You’re my sun, remember?”

  “Goddess, I love you.”

  Lilith’s eyes are shut, but a content half-smile ghosts over her lips as she nestles her head onto my chest. “And I, you, my love. So much.”

  We stay that way, standing in the middle of the kitchen, swaying to the patter of our hearts as we hold each other. The howling of wind shakes the house, blowing with it a blanket of snow. Her body is warm against mine, and I never want to let it go. My shirt becomes wet from her silent tears, but I don’t try to and promise comfort because I know it isn’t possible with what is about to come. All I can do is hold her through the storm.

  Death is always a possibility in battle. No one is ever safe. No matter how great I believe I am at protecting myself, something could always happen. I’m not blind, thinking I’m untouchable. I know tonight may be the last night I ever get with her. To hold her, feel her lips, her body, hear her voice.

  Tonight may be my only chance at heaven because after everything I’ve done, I won’t know anything mightier than her love.

  “Don’t cry, Angel. Please. I don’t deserve your tears.”

  “You deserve everything. Promise me you’ll come back to me, Beowulf. Promise that all these years without each other, this won’t be the thing that tears us apart. Please. I’m begging you.”

  Her eyes are red and swollen, but hope widens them. She brightens. “We can run away like you wanted to all those years ago. We can run and never look back. It can just be me, you, and the babes. We don’t need anything else or anyone else. Let’s run away until we can’t be found.”

  As much as it appeals to me, I know I can’t do that. “You know that isn’t possible. I can’t leave my men without me. Many of them will die without me there.”

  “And what of me?”

  “You know I love you. I have an obligation to my men too, Lilith. This is my life. All those years ago, I wanted to run away with you because the darkness of life hadn’t sunk its teeth into us yet. I have responsibilities. Turning my back when they need me most will label me a coward. Don’t mistake that for me turning my back on you. I’m doing this for you. For our wee one in your belly. And for Rian.” I flatten my palm over her stomach like I love to do. “I have a d
eep hatred for the Jackals for what they did to you. What they took away from us. I shall never be able to live the rest of our lives, knowing I didn’t do everything in my power to protect my family.”

  She kisses my chest, and her lips feather over my pecs as she whispers. “I’m so afraid.”

  “I know. I know.” I do not reveal that I am afraid too. I’ve never had anything to come back home too. I have something worth fighting for now, and it scares the hell out of me. Fear is something I cannot afford to have right now. It is the greatest weakness a warrior can bring onto the battlefield, but she needs me to be strong. Seeing how unsure I am will only fuel the panic she already feels.

  “I love how you feel.” She peppers open-mouthed kisses along my chest. “So strong. I love your strength. Your power. It exudes from you. It sends me to my knees.”

  “I don’t see you on your knees,” I grin, my voice deepening from the sudden loss of my blood leaving my head to pool in my cock. I’m already hard and ready for her. My pants tent from my unmannered erection, reacting to her words.

  She falls to her knees, which can’t be easy on her legs, so I lift her up and place her on the bed. “You make me feel so good, but I won’t let my pleasure cloud your discomfort. Your legs are too sexy to get bruised.”

  “Always thinking of me.” She smiles, cupping my long dick through the material of my pants. “I want to make tonight a night to remember.”

  “Every night with you is a night to remember,” I croon, holding her chin in my hand. She licks her lips and my cock jerks in reaction, pre-come leaking from the tip.

  She rolls her eyes and tugs my pants down my hips until I pop free. “Such a sweet talker.”

  My cock slaps against my stomach, hard and waiting for the wet heat of her mouth. Her fingers clutch onto the part of her dress that covers her breasts and yanks it down. The mounds fall free, and her nipples beckon me, calling out my name. I can’t take it. I shove her down and straddle her waist.

  “Push them together.” I take my cock in hand and wait for her to listen to me. “Do it, now,” I snarl, and she hurriedly pushes those creamy tits together.