Owned by the Berserkers : A menage shifter romance (Berserker Brides Book 5)

by Lee Savino

  After a while the snow abated. Svein disappeared for a time and I dozed in the pelts, tossing and turning. Dagg’s shadow fell across the cave mouth, his wolf caught between the wilderness and his place by the fire. He was waiting, always waiting, but I slept as if he guarded my dreams. I hadn’t had a vision since I’d come to them. My dreams were full of shadows, but safe from the specter who’d haunted them before. He could not reach me with Dagg and Svein here. With that comforting thought, I slipped into sleep.

  When I woke, it was snowing again. Svein had returned holding a large stew pot. He filled it with snow and set it on the fire and added wood until the water simmered.

  “There,” he said when I sat up. “You said you wanted to bathe.”

  “Where did you…?” My voice trailed off. He’d gone somewhere and snatched the pot. I didn’t need to know where. Instead, I added some herbs to the fire and asked him to move the pot off the blaze. He raised a brow but did as I bid.

  “A strange broth.”

  “It’s not for eating. I want to wash your hair.” My earlier attempt hadn’t been as thorough as I’d liked.

  He grimaced. “Better to cut it.” He took his knife and sliced through the locks, letting the ragged braid fall.

  “Let me.” I took the knife and evened the ends of the shorn locks. Then I had him bend so I could pour water over his head. I soaped the silky straw-colored tufts, untangling the smaller snarls, rubbing the dirt from his scalp and neck. A few cups of water poured over his head and the water ran clean.

  “Much better,” I murmured but kept playing with his hair. He held still, allowing my touch. Little currents of energy ran up my arms, down my body, as if I submitted to him, rather than the other way around.

  I was close to cupping his face and pleading for a kiss when Svein lifted his head at some soft noise.

  “What is it?”

  “Wait here.” He rose and strode to the mouth of the cave, drawing his weapon.

  I followed until he motioned for me to stop. From what I could see of the dark, snow-filled world, the wolf was gone. “Is it…”

  “Dagg. He is out there.”

  “As a man?” my chest tightened. “We need to invite him in.”

  “No. He’s not... himself.” Not a man then.

  “I want to see him,” I started forward, but Svein caught me.

  “If he was in his right mind, he would not want you to see him.”

  A gust swept by the cave, sending flurries as far as the fire. The wolf had waited for the moment he could stand to come inside. But it had never come. Instead, he’d watched me with his warrior brother, and despaired.

  “Your hair is turning to icicles,” I tugged Svein back, tears in my eyes.

  “It’s not your fault. Fern—”

  “Hold me, please,” I pressed against him, hiding my face in his neck.

  His arms came around me, and he let us both sink down onto the pelts.

  I straddled his lap, sniffling back my tears long enough to dry his hair. Svein studied me, but I kept my gaze averted. Bowing my head, I tugged at the laces of his breeches.

  “Fern—” he caught my hands.

  “Please. I need you.”

  In one movement he laid me back under him.

  “You think I would refuse you?”

  I shook my head. My desire was bittersweet, knowing Dagg was most likely lost, but I still had one warrior with me. I could not deny my craving any more.

  “I’ve dreamt of this every night,” Svein rasped. His hand slipped under my clothes and I arched into his palm. “Do you know what happens to naughty ones who wander into a wolf’s territory?” His eyes glinted.

  I shook my head.

  His lips found my ear. “They get eaten.” Teeth scraped the defenseless spot behind my ear, nipped my soft lobe. I went weak all the way to my knees.

  His mouth blazed a trail downward, finally nuzzling the sensitive skin of my inner thighs.

  “Here,” he murmured. His bristled chin scraped me, and I jumped. Pinning me with his hands, he explored further, coming to the soft nest of auburn hair. I held still best I could, frozen like prey before a predator.

  “This is where I feast.” He blew hot breath on my lower lips and goosebumps broke on along my body.

  “Oh, Svein—”

  “That’s it. Call my name, loud as you like.” He lowered his head and fed. Large hands gripped my jerking hips, holding me still. His tongue delved into my secret places, finding spots that sent pleasure surging through me. He ignored my hands tugging at his hair, ignored my gasps and pleas.

  “Ripe as a berry, and so sweet,” he said.

  My body tensed like a drawn bow, quivering with readiness. He stabbed me with his tongue, adding fingers to stretch me. I dug my heels into the ground, no longer seeking to retreat from his voracious mouth. Cries filled my ears, sounds I barely recognized as mine.

  As I came back to myself, my head rolled on the pelt. Wind gusted over my face. Beyond the fire, there were eyes in the darkness, watching.

  Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes, in the face of overwhelming pleasure.

  Svein was finishing, drawing out my pleasure with little cat licks and kisses. A shuddering sigh went through me and he rose up, covering my body with his.

  “Shhhh, little red. It will be all right.” His weight kept me safe and still, absorbing most of the pain beating in my heart.

  It was not only my pain, I must remember that. Svein would bear guilt of not being able to save his warrior brother.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, already halfway unconscious.

  Svein’s lips brushed mine. “I know. Sleep.”

  I fought to stay awake long enough to ask, “What about you?”

  He kissed me thoroughly. “Tomorrow,” he promised. “Tomorrow I’ll teach you to please me.”

  24

  In the morning, we found footprints in the snow. A man had paced outside our cave and left before dawn. I made Svein take me to where they disappeared in the bracken. I did not see whether they turned back into a wolf’s.

  “It was him. Dagg returned.”

  Svein’s face tightened. “If he turns again into the monster, I must drive him away.”

  “No, don’t.”

  Svein had already turned away, marching back to the cave. I grabbed at his hand, but he didn’t slow.

  “You think you can save us?”

  That stopped me in my tracks. I let Svein’s hand go. “I must.”

  “I should send you back to the pack and the Alphas.”

  “There is nothing for me there.”

  Shaking his head, he grabbed his axe and set a log on its end to split it.

  “If you send me back, I will do everything I can to return. I will not stay where you put me.”

  Stone-faced, the warrior sent his axe slicing through one log. Picking up the two pieces he tossed them to our pile and grabbed another log.

  “Svein, did you hear me? Are you listening?” I stalked around so he could not ignore me.

  He set the axe down and crossed his arms over his chest. “What made me think you were quiet?”

  Smiling, I swayed closer and went on tiptoes to kiss him. I still could not reach him, so he bent to my lips. I did my best to convince him to keep me until he broke away with a sigh.

  “I must hunt.”

  “Will you keep look out for Dagg?”

  He touched a finger to my lips but did not tell me to be quiet. “I expect I’ll find him, if he wants to be found.”

  *

  To my disappointment, he did not find Dagg that day, or the next. The snows stopped for a time, though the world stayed quiet, with all its creatures abed.

  Svein and I passed the time easily in our cave. I’d brought a cup, some bread, the clothes on my back, my cloak, and boots. A few extra clothes, small packets of herbs and a bit of soap. I didn’t have many possessions, but these few supplies would help me make our camp a home.

 
; Svein and I worked to make our cave cozy. Outside winter had the world in its frozen fist, but inside was safe and warm. Svein was clever with the fire, building it under a crevice in the cave ceiling so most of the smoke went up and out, while the heat stayed. We also wore coats made of fur—every time he left to hunt, he returned with a white pelt that smelled of winter.

  I cleared the last of the cobwebs and brush and piled the furs on the large flat rock that made our bed, scattering lavender from my pack around it. I kept water heated over the fire, using wintergreen leaves to make a soothing tea. Svein often left early and returned before I was awake with armfuls of firewood or game. His lean face filled out a little and he lost his hungry, haunted look. With each kill, I dried meat and set it aside, storing it as I would if we lived in a proper lodge.

  One afternoon he returned late in the day. I greeted him with relief. He stooped and kissed me before showing me what caused the delay—a parcel of fresh bread, along with piece of honeycomb.

  “Where did you get this?” I rewrapped the honey comb and licked my sticky fingers.

  “Someone left the loaves on the bridge.” He caught my hand and helped clean my fingers, but that did not distract me from blurting,

  “You climbed the mountain? It’s dangerous for you to go so close to the pack.”

  He shrugged. “They will not catch me. But you need to eat, little red. You’re already too small.”

  “Not anymore.” My own body had grown stronger, my breasts bigger. I was not big and beautiful as Laurel, but I’d noticed my gown tight around my chest. “You feed me enough meat. I’m not used to eating so much.”

  “You’re so little. You need more food to withstand this cold.” His own cheeks were ruddy from the wind as he stoked up the fire.

  “You keep me warm,” I reminded him, and was rewarded with a flash of heat his eyes.

  We ate the bread with honey and began our evening ritual. Every night I insisted we bathe—or clean each other as much as we could with just a little warm water and a soapy cloth--before we sank onto the furs to enjoy the comfort of each other’s arms. I wetted the scrap of linen and scrubbed around Svein’s neck and ears, rinsing it and swiping the soap for a little lather. His blond hair grew dark with damp as he bent his head and submitted to my ministrations. Concentrating as I was, I didn’t notice his grin right away, not until he nuzzled my neck.

  “Your turn,” he murmured.

  “Not yet.” I swatted him with the cloth.

  When he raised his head, his eyes blazed gold. In one movement, he pulled me down and under him. I sprawled on a pelt, eyes wide as he took the cloth. Straddling me, he tugged down the neck of my gown.

  I made a noise, afraid he’d tear it.

  “I’ll find you another,” he promised, but stopped short of ripping the garment off. The wet cloth had cooled; as he ran it along my collarbone, my nipples hardened. Carefully he rubbed around my neck and behind my ears and moved away. I started to rise, but he returned, having rewet the cloth.

  “I’m clean,” I said but let him lay me out again.

  “Not yet,” he drew up my skirts. His smile turning serious, he washed up my legs in slow swirls that set my core throbbing. He rinsed the rag again and returned, kneeling right between my legs so I had to set my knees far apart.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I have been a poor teacher, if we’ve been together so long and you don’t know.”

  “We weren’t together so long.”

  “Long enough for you to know to whom you belong.” his gaze heated me. “Long enough for your body to know its master.”

  He laid the hot, damp cloth right on the thatch of red curls at the apex of my thighs. I sucked in a breath. My body tightened, quickened, a taut bowstring ready to be plucked. With a wicked look, he cleaned me carefully, taking his time tracing my lower lips and dipping into the folds.

  “One day, I will shave you.”

  My eyes widened.

  He arched a brow. “Would you like that, little red?”

  “I... ohhh…”

  Cupping my pussy, he slid a finger inside me. My body clenched, and my hips came off the pelts. Svein explored me with a lazy finger, his touch no more than a tickling whisper that made me long for more. “Does not matter what you wish,” he commented. “You will submit to my desires. I will shave your sweet cunny and keep it as I wish.” He pulled out his slick finger and licked it. “Delicious.”

  I whimpered.

  Tossing the cloth away, he stretched out over me, finding my lips. I caught a taste of myself, a wild, earthy essence, and when Svein drew away I realized I’d been rocking my hips toward him, seeking more stimulation.

  “Such a pretty wanton you are.”

  “I am not wanton.”

  “For me. Only for me.” His lips caressed my neck, down my shoulders, across my neck. “A flower growing quiet under the snows. You melt only for me.”

  And Dagg, I wanted to add, but he claimed my mouth and I forgot anything else.

  The wind picked up, Svein drew the furs over us. On one of his raids, he’d brought back a large bear robe, and I’d sewn a blanket to it, making a large pocket we could slip into. My legs tangled with his, my body twining around his great one.

  He set his knee between my legs and rocked it back and forth, pushing me closer to the edge.

  “Svein,” I gasped.

  “That’s it, little red. Take your pleasure.”

  I gasped as sensation rushed through me. My body bucked against his leg. Panting, I clutched at him.

  “Good girl,” he murmured, stroking my neck as I came back down.

  “I left you wet,” I told him and hid my face in his chest.

  “It’s all right,” he chuckled. “I enjoy wearing your scent. And I will mark you with mine.”

  “Tonight?”

  “You need your sleep,” He kissed me again, and settled me in his arms.

  The fire crackled, and I raised my head enough to see the dark head of a wolf at the mouth of the cave.

  Satisfied, I lay back down. Dagg had started to spend the nights here. He kept the shape of a wolf, but I imagined each night he came a little closer to the fire.

  I fell asleep with a smile on my face, and my body warm in Svein’s arms. My sleep was deeper, more restful. My dreams were there, waiting for me beyond the veil. The skeletal specter stood in the mist and gloom, but he could not reach me. Wrapped in the warm presence of my mates, I was safe.

  25

  The next morning, I stretched out my legs, coming awake slowly. The cool air on my face and the solid warmth at my back.

  The sun slanted into the cave, over the snow drifts. The snow had stopped a day or two ago. It’d been five—or was it six—days since I’d come. The cave was not the lodge originally promised me, but at least we had shelter.

  The fire was low—Svein would have to replenish our wood store soon. Odd that he was still abed this late, but I would not complain. I snuggled back into his chest.

  And froze as soft, thick hair tickled the back of my neck. The man was behind me was not Svein. He was broader, with a long beard that scraped my bare shoulder, and a wild scent.

  “Miss me, little dove?”

  I jerked upright at the rough voice. Dagg lay there, a grin under his thick beard. The lines were deeper on his forehead and there were dark circles under his eyes, but it was him.

  “Dagg,” I breathed and scrambled to face him. He chuckled as I ran my hand down his hard body, reassuring myself with his warm skin. He was human, and he was whole.

  “Fern,” he murmured. I ducked my head and press my cheek against him, listening to his heart beat. His hand come up to cup the back of my head, and we rested like that.

  “So small,” he mused, stroking my hair. “I forgot how little you are.” He tugged a lock of my hair. “So fiery. I remembered this flaming hair, even when my mind was lost.”

  I let out a little shuddering sigh.

  “Don
’t cry, dear one.” HIs hand slid along my nape and I held him tighter. “The madness is gone, for now.”

  “You’re so quiet.”

  “Svein doesn’t think so. He says I vex him.” I raised my head enough to look at him. “Back at the lodge of unmated spaewives, I barely spoke.”

  His fingers flexed against my neck. “Why did you come?”

  “I couldn’t leave you,” I whispered.

  “Svein is right. You are safer with the pack.”

  I lay my head against his chest.

  “I was angry with him at first. He should’ve sent you away. But I am glad he did not. You ease the madness. But I’m afraid I’ll never be whole.”

  I cuddled against him. In his arms I felt safe from my own madness. My body pressed flush to his, fitting perfectly.

  “I suspect neither of us will be able to send you away. Just as well. My mind is not whole but perhaps you are the missing piece.”

  “Svein will not be happy I am here. He seeks to protect you from me.”

  “You keep me safe.”

  “I hope so.”

  I took his wrist and laid his hand on my collarbone. “Touch me, Dagg.”

  His cock grew against my leg. “It has been too long. I must keep control.”

  “Do as you will,” I whispered.

  His mouth fitted over mine. At first, he went slowly, almost lazily feeding on my mouth. His hand found my breast and I gasped. Shifting his weight over me, he left my mouth and worried my neck, drawing from me little whimpers and cries.

  He kissed down my body, and for all his talk of me being small, he took his time. He lingered at my knee and came back up nuzzle between my legs. His beard tickled. But when I wriggled he gripped my hips and held me still.

  “Who do you belong to?” he asked, his gaze hot on mine.

  “To you,” I said, and moaned when he rewarded me with a hot mouth on my aching center. “Dagg,” he made me pant, his teeth scraping perilously close to my vulnerable heat, his tongue wicked and darting into every part of me.

  When he was done, he wrapped me in a pelt and pulled me into his lap. We sat in front of the fire, me content, him sifting fingers through my hair.