Given to the Berserkers: A menage shifter romance (Berserker Saga Book 4)

by Lee Savino

  He dipped bread into the broth and grunted his approval. “By the moon, it is good to come home to a warm hearth and a good meal.”

  “Does the pack not know how to cook stew?” I teased.

  “We hunt and cook over the open flame. There’s nothing like roast boar under a starry sky, but after a century or two it grows old.”

  Moving carefully because of the plug, I perched on the edge of the table opposite him. It put our heads at the same height, which gave me courage. “You could not build lodges and cabins for you to live in?”

  “We dared not until your sisters came to us. In the past the beast had taken over and destroyed all we built.” He sighed. “No, Muriel, ‘tis better for the Berserkers to live as beasts. No homes to welcome us. No women or friends to endanger. We make camp and cook like mercenaries, always ready to go into battle. Only the enemy is our own nature.”

  “A harsh life.” It was my turn to sound sad.

  “It is. I am glad to see the end of it. That is why I did all I could to win the Games.” Raising his horn, he toasted me. After he drank he let the horn fall on his empty plate with a clatter. He drew off his jerkin and tossed it aside.

  The sight of his muscles made my mouth water. I wanted to run my hands over them and explore the pebbled sheet of his stomach. My sex grew hot and wet thinking of touching him.

  Wulfgar tilted his head and I knew he scented me.

  “Come here, little one.”

  I went to stand between his two legs thick as tree trunks. As intimidating as he was, my heart beat faster when he put his hand on my hips and drew me even closer. “Do you know what I love more than the soft bed and hot stew? “

  “What, my lord?”

  “A beautiful woman. My woman.”

  “I’m sure my lord has enjoyed many women.”

  Pain flickered in his face, creasing his forehead along with his old scar, but before I could ask what unhappy thought marred his features, it was gone.

  “I only have thoughts for the one who is in my arms.” I flushed and turned my head so my hair fell over my face. Close as I was, I could not hide my eagerness from him.

  “I hear Fergus has been at work preparing you for tonight.”

  “Yes.”

  “He plugged you, did he not?”

  I nodded, too overcome to speak.

  “Show me.” His chair scraped back from the table as he gave me space to obey.

  Embarrassed though I was, I dared not disobey. Turning, I drew up my dress and bent at my waist. I heard him suck in his breath at the sight of my plugged bottom. I bit my lip and waited.

  When his touch came, it was the barest feather-light stroke of my lower lips. My knees grew weak. I trembled and would’ve fallen.

  “Sit on my lap, little wife.” I started to obey and he tugged my shift. “Lose this.”

  I drew it over my head. Standing bare before him, I tried not to feel nervous. I curled my hands into fists, resisting the urge to pull my hair over my flesh like a garment.

  His eyes roamed up and down, the heat in his eyes setting fire to my blood.

  “On my lap now.” He helped me straddle him.

  As soon as my wet heat touched his bare stomach, I gasped.

  “Does it feel good?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His chuckle vibrated through him and did all sorts of wonderful things to me, inside and out. As my breathing sped up, his attention dropped to my bare breasts.

  “These are lovely.” His finger hovered an inch away from my areola.

  “They are yours to touch whenever you please,” I reminded him.

  For a while he did just that, amusing himself. I settled further onto his carved stomach, pressing my slick heat onto the unyielding muscle.

  Wulfgar thumbed a nipple and my hips jerked naturally, my center finding the contact it craved.

  “That’s it.” Gold rose in his eyes. Was this Wulfgar the man or the beast? “Rock against me, take your pleasure.”

  He rolled my nipples between a large thumb and forefinger. Everything about us was so different. He was hard where I was soft, large where I was small, but the hunger in my body matched the glint in his eyes.

  I rocked on him, closing my eyes at the sensation. My cunny pulsed and honey poured from my center, slickening his stomach and easing my way. Little tendrils of pleasure curled through me as I rocked.

  “Yes,” he murmured. “Use me for your pleasure.” Reaching back, he took the plug and started to twist it, pushing and pulling until my body arched as if trying to escape the strange sensation. Arousal and embarrassment rushed through me all at once. Having my bottom filled made my cunny all the more hungry for cock.

  “Oh, my lord—”

  “Call me Wulfgar.” Sharp teeth found my ear and nipped. Fluid rushed out of me. “You’re going to cum for me, Muriel.”

  “I can’t,” I gasped. “Fergus said I must not cum until he allows it.”

  “Fergus is not your only master,” Wulfgar growled. He removed the plug with a sudden pop. Cupping my bottom, he stood. My legs twined around his middle as he carried me to the bed. Once there, he turned and sat, still holding me on his lap.

  He lay back, broad form stretching before me, an awe inspiring landscape of muscle for me to explore. I set my hand on his abdomen to steady myself, and his cock grew hard against my bottom.

  “That’s it, Muriel.” He encouraged, and I needed no further encouragement. My small hands traced the peaks and valleys of his great chest, caressing the knotted muscle. One day I would be brave enough to kiss where my hands went, to map his beautiful body with my lips and tongue.

  For now, Wulfgar had other plans.

  “Up,” he pulled me over him and set me right on his face. I gasped as I realized how he wanted me to straddle him. The stubble on his chin scratched my secret places and I rose up. Firm hands pulled me back down.

  “Rock on my face. Ride me.”

  “Wulfgar,” I gasped his name, then moaned as his mouth opened and hot air hit my womanly parts. My hips moved of their own volition, seeking the pleasure so recently denied. His tongue plunged into my channel and I threw back my head, riding faster, the wet warmth driving me wild.

  My climax came suddenly, starting low in my belly and flashing through me. My back stiffened and my head snapped back as I bucked like a rider on a horse. Wulfgar’s hands steadied and bit into my hips, holding me upright when I would’ve sagged down to the bed.

  Finally he let me down and stretched over me. His face was wet.

  “Muriel,” he murmured my name over and over as he lay me down and took in my form, my chest flushed, my body soft and still quivering from his touch.

  “Wulfgar.” I reached for him, and he waited no longer.

  He sank into me, my legs wrapped around his massive body as far as they would go.

  “Please.” I grasped at his heavily muscled arms and shoulders, enticing him closer. Finally I reached around and raked my nails down his back.

  He howled and drove forward, slamming his cock into my channel again and again. The cabin filled with wet slapping sounds. My whole body bowed under his, my hips rising to meet his, little whispered pleas escaping my lips. My orgasm caught me and had me clenching around his cock, endless shockwaves carrying my pleasure on and on.

  “Wulfgar, Wulfgar,” I gasped, and a smile wreathed his face like dawn breaking through the clouds, the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.

  At last, he drove into me one final time, his heavy body pinning me as he grunted through his own climax. I stroked his strong shoulders, enjoying his weight on me. Safe, warm, protected in the shelter of his massive form, I gave him a happy half-lidded smile and traced his full lips where his own smile had been. He blinked at me in wonder, as if I was a creature sent from the goddess and he half expected me to disappear.

  When he started to rise up, I caught his arm. “Please, stay here a little while.”

  I remembered too late that he preferre
d not to share my bed, that even during Fergus’ and my lovemaking he kept his distance and took care not to touch me.

  My happy feelings faded away. “It’s all right if you do not wish to.”

  “I do wish to, Muriel,” he said. “Am I hurting you?”

  “No,” he seemed to need more reassurance, so I wrapped my legs and arms around him again, and closed my eyes to focus on the sensation of his giant cock becoming soft inside me. He sank further onto me, arms coming to hold me as I held him. His beautiful lips nuzzled my neck.

  “Tonight, we will mark you,” he whispered in my ear. “You will be ours.”

  *

  As the sun sank, Wulfgar and I went outside to wait for Fergus. My big mate gave me leave to roam around the clearing, as long as I didn’t stray into the woods.

  Spring had blossomed in the past week. The forest was filled with singing birds, new leaves, and flowers spreading their subtle scent on the wind.

  In the twilight, Wulfgar took up his great axe and split wood. I sat on a stump and watched him as I worked on mending one of my gowns. The fluid motion of the muscles in his broad back made for a fascinating study. My cunny clenched at the sight, even though the memory of our lovemaking was so fresh, I could still feel the impression of him inside me, as if he’d marked me already.

  I rose and returned to the cabin, checking the bread and moving the stew pot closer to the fire. I found myself pacing back and forth on the cabin porch, impatient for Fergus to return. Tonight the two of them would take me together in a final claiming. Even though evidence told me I wasn’t a worthy mate, I had hope. Perhaps I would be pleasing enough that they would keep me longer.

  An owl flew to a nearby branch. The broad span of its wings caught my eye and I turned, startled.

  I was even more startled when the owl grew into a woman, with white blond hair and a beak-like nose. She was lovely, but her beauty was a hard shell around her.

  Before I could shout for Wulfgar, or scuttle back into the cabin’s relative safety, the lady said, “Well met, Muriel, mate of Fergus and Wulfgar.”

  My heart leapt, and I knew who my visitor was.

  “Good evening, Yseult,” I gave a little curtsy.

  Her lips quirked.

  “You know then that they are both my mates?”

  “I do. She cocked her head. “I see the pack does not yet know they share you. Why do they hide you away?”

  “They say we must work on our mate bond.”

  “And indeed you should, but there are many secrets being kept here.”

  I glanced at Wulfgar, but he didn’t seem to notice the witch was here. Strange that he should be so unaware, but I guessed that whatever spell Yseult used to come to me, also kept our meeting private. “I did not wish to tell them I was worried, but they are worried too.”

  “Is that why you summoned me? You fear for your mating bond?”

  “I fear the pack will try and test to see if my men are truly my mates.”

  Yseult watched me as unblinking as an owl. I tried to remember all Sabine had taught me about dealing with a witch. I must speak plainly and tell the truth, and ask specific questions. I blurted what I most feared, “Is it true that Siebold will try to claim me?”

  “For a scrying, I need a payment. A boon.”

  For a moment my throat was too dry to speak. “Yes,” I said, “anything I can give. Within reason.” It wasn’t wise to make open ended promises to a creature of magic.

  “A lock of your hair.”

  “That is all?”

  “A piece of yourself is not a trifle. It can be powerful, in the right hands. I will not use it for evil purpose, I assure you.” Her eyes glittered. “At least, not this time.”

  My chest tightened as if my heart refused to beat, but I had already committed myself. Before I could think about it, I drew out my dirk and sliced off a shank of hair. “Is this enough?”

  “Plenty.”

  I stretched out my hand, but Yseult didn’t move. Instead, a raven flew down and snatched the offering from my fingers. I staggered back, clutching my hand to my breast while it flew up onto a nearby branch.

  “Thank you, Muriel.” Yseult smiled, a mirthless expression that looked like a mask on her face. “I cast the runes before I came here. Yes, you must bond, or others will seek to stake a claim on you. They will fight over your hand.”

  I rubbed my hand where the raven’s beak had stabbed it. “I do not wish for there to be more violence.”

  “There will be.” Yseult’s voice was low and mesmerizing. “Only you can stop it.”

  “How?”

  She shrugged. “You become their mate.”

  “They are taking me, both together, tonight.”

  “That is a start. A very good start. Muriel, why do you wish to mate with them?”

  I watched Wulfgar as he worked not two hundred steps away. The sweat on his hard muscled back shone in the dying light. “It is my duty.”

  “Only that?”

  “I care for them.”

  “Even Wulfgar? The Pack Enforcer?”

  “Yes.”

  “I will tell you that you must bond before the full moon, or they risk forfeiting you as their mate.”

  “Three days?” I could seduce them.

  “Wait, did the runes say if it is possible for me to mate with them?”

  Yseult cocked her head. “Do you know who you are?”

  I twisted the cloth of my dress between my fingers. “I am Muriel of Alba.”

  “Daughter of a healer, who was daughter of a witch.”

  “My sister Sabine is the one with healing power.”

  “All four of you and your sisters are spaewives, a special race of women born with latent magic. Not quite witches, though you could become so. Your magic is natural, of the earth.”

  “I have no magic.” The raven fluttered its wings on the branch above our heads, as if to contest my words. After all, I had done the spell to call Yseult, and she was here.

  “You have powers, Muriel. I don’t know what they will be, or if they will manifest. Your mother had great power, but she was afraid to use it. In the end, she shackled herself to a weak man and drank herself to death.”

  “She raised us.”

  “Aye. And now you must decide. Will you choose love, or fear?”

  “I will do my duty.” I said slowly.

  “Then you’ve made your choice.” Yseult dusted off her shoulder, and the raven flew to her and landed there, dropping the shank of my hair into her hand. “To answer your question, you must mate with your two warriors, or others in the pack will try to kill them to lay claim to you.”

  My heart seized.

  Yseult fixed me with a look. “Only you can stop this, Muriel. Use your powers. And one more thing.” She lifted her hand to her mouth, hiding her pleased look. The next word I heard in an faint, echoing voice, spoken directly inside my head. Don’t ever give a witch a piece of your body. It allows them to control you.

  She was gone in a flash of light that made me jump. Not even the raven remained. Rubbing my eyes, I stumbled back inside the hut. From the sounds of chopping wood, Wulfgar was still at the chore. He hadn’t noticed the witch’s presence at all.

  I decided there was no use worrying over what the witch had said about using my hair. There were many ways she could harm me, if she wanted to.

  I also couldn’t waste time wondering whether or not it was possible for me to be a Berserker bride. With three days, there was no time to waste. To force the bond and avoid being given back to the pack, I had to seduce my men.

  Building up the fire, I crushed herbs and filled the hut with a sweet, heady smell. I laid out mead and meat on the table, and after I washed, I rubbed my skin with oil until it glowed.

  Then I lay on the bed to await my warriors. I did not have to wait long. They came stomping in…and stopped in their tracks.

  I smiled to myself. My naked body shone in the firelight, with only my long, brown hair as
a covering. I’d faced away from the door, angling on my side so they could see my buttocks and trim waist, the curve of my back hinting at more alluring curves in front. With one leg propped up, I could easily slip my hand between my legs and touch myself. I did this now, readying my folds for my men.

  “Getting started without us, lass?” I heard boots and clothes hit the floor.

  “Mmhmm,” I purred and looked over my shoulder at them. The past few days prepared me for the heart stopping sight of two large, muscled men making their way towards me, their intent gaze feasting on my flesh.

  “Touching yourself is our right.”

  I rolled to my back. Both warrior’s cocks jutted out in invitation. “Come, claim me, then.”

  They hastened forward.

  “Naughty lass. You’re not to touch yourself without our permission.”

  “Not even a little?” I asked with a sultry look as I lifted my hand and displayed the sticky wetness on my fingers. “I’m ready for you.”

  “Not quite.” Fergus approached, holding up the plug. I rolled to my stomach with a mock groan. A hard smack on my bottom made me yelp.

  “Come on, lass.” Hands pulled me back into position, half on my belly and half on my side with several pelts bunched under me. Fergus spread oil between my cheeks before he replaced his fingers with the slick plug. “You’ll be grateful ye were stretched when our cocks are inside ye.”

  I pouted, but grabbed one bottom cheek and lifted it for him to easily access my back hole. “You’ll split me in two.”

  He grinned and twisted the plug inside

  “Touch yourself while I fuck ye with it.”

  Biting my lip, I obeyed. Fergus gripped my bent leg, holding me still as he pushed the wooden bulb into my forbidden orifice.

  As the plug moved in and out, I kept my fingers fluttering against my sensitive spot. The dark sensation felt so wrong, yet my nipples beaded and the secret places between my legs tightened with anticipation.

  I kept my gaze down, but could not keep the blush from spreading over my face.

  “Do ye like it, Muriel?”

  “No,” I denied, but there was a catch in my voice.