“Wulf! Wulf, stop! You don’t know what is waiting. It could be a trap,” Trident shouts after me, but I ignore him, not caring what lies ahead. The heavy pounding of hooves is behind me, trying to catch up, but no horse is as fast as Dire.
The smell of smoke becomes stronger and thicker. It isn’t the only scent in the air. My stomach turns when I realize what it is. Flesh. Burning bodies. I slap the reins on Dire’s neck. He picks up speed, and that is when I notice that the large wooden gate is open with arrows lodged all over it. When I finally enter the town, I yank on the reins and Dire skids to a stop.
“Oh goddess,” I mumble, taking the destruction in. There is a large pile of bodies in the middle, burning in the thin air. The rancid scent makes me cover my nose with my hand and gag.
We take our time exploring the debris that’s left. What were buildings are now piles of ash, nothing left but embers burning in their places. What used to be a happy, bustling town is a ghost town. It’s a whirlwind. Time seems to slow. All around me is nothing but the smoking remnants of what used to be Thurston.
Suddenly, I realize something else. There isn’t one person alive or screaming for help. I take out my sword and kick Dire in the sides again, rushing down the dirt road to where Grant’s small home is.
“Wulf! Damn it. Einarr, follow him!”
“—I have it, Lord Grimkael,” Trident says to him, and soon the hooves of his horse are right behind mine, but I refuse to stop.
We ride for a few minutes until I come to a heavily wooded area. I pull the reins to the left side and Dire skids, almost overcorrecting us, which would have sent us tumbling to the ground. I click my tongue, slapping the reins on Dire’s arse to get him to go faster. The harsh wind stings my face, but it isn’t enough pain to make me stop. Someone would have to run a blade through my body, but even then, I’d crawl to where I’m needed.
“No,” I whisper in disbelief, seeing my brother’s home up in high flames still. It is as if it just happened. Everything else is smoking and has been burnt for hours now. Why is his house still blazing?
“No!” I roar, jumping off Dire’s back as he runs full speed. I hit the ground with a grunt, flip, and roll until my head almost hits the steps of the house.
“You fool bastard!” Trident is red-faced as he and Hank come to a stop. His hooves dig chunks of dirt, slinging them back against a nearby tree.
I shake my head to clear the haze. The smoke is heavy, burning my eyes and throat. I miss the rail when I first reach for it from the dizziness controlling my body. I lift my leg to take the first step but stumble.
“Grant!” I yell, but I know he can’t hear me through the roar of the blaze. “Grant!” I shout to the sky, releasing his name on a long mournful yell.
I cover my mouth with my arm and finally make my way up the steps, but before I can get inside, Trident wraps his arms around me and throws us backward. I land against the ground again with a hard thud, but it doesn’t take my breath away as much as when the front door explodes, sending shattered shards of hot, flaming wood at us.
“Grant. Rian!” I cry for them, but all I can hear and see are the orange tendrils flicking against the side of the house and out the windows.
Trident holds me back as I claw my hands into the ground to get closer. I need to get inside. “Wulf! Stop. We must go. The house is going to fall soon.”
“I’m not leaving without my brother! I’m not leaving without my nephew! Alive or dead. They deserve a proper burial.”
I do the one thing I never thought I’d do. I rear my fist back and slug Trident in the face. His head snaps back, and it gives me the perfect opportunity to get out of his hold. I run up the steps and ignore the licks of the hot flames against my arms.
I disappear through the door, and I can’t see a thing. It’s fogged with thick black clouds, and the smell itself is enough to kill anyone who breathes it in.
“Rian,” I cough and take a step, the floorboards threatening to give under my weight. My boots trip over something in my path, and when I hit the ground, I bring myself closer to the object blocking me. “Grant?”
I can’t see anything. The smoke gets too be too much, and my lids become heavy. It makes sense for me to die right here with my family.
“I’m here. I’m not leaving you,” I rasp through a dry, scorched throat.
I’m not leaving.
Chapter Fourteen
Lilith
It’s been eight days since Beowulf has been gone, and there has been no sign of his return. No one has told me anything, but the Warlord and the Lord left with Beowulf and Trident. The de facto leader is Lord Troy, Lady Thyra’s father. If anything were to happen and we were to go into battle, it would be up to him to lead the army.
I sigh, thinking about my last interaction with Beowulf. If anything happened to him while he is away, and that is how we left things, I shall never forgive myself. He has been nothing but good to me, and I’ve been nothing but frightened and angry. I haven’t meant to take it out on him. I’m angry with myself, and with Beowulf being gone, it only reminds me how much I miss him. It’s colder here without him, and it isn’t just because the first snow has fallen.
I grab the door that he threw in the woods and chuckle. The past few days I’ve been sleeping at the castle because his cabin didn’t have a door. The damn brute took it right off its hinges, but I want to stay there again. It’s important that I’m there when he gets home because I have a feeling when he does, something shall be different. The air is charged. There is a heaviness surrounding me that I can’t explain.
Grabbing the door by the edge, I drag it back to the front to see if maybe I can fix it. I don’t know how to fix anything, but I can try.
“Lilith?” a young, strapping voice says from behind me, gaining my attention.
“Yes?” I ask, dropping the piece of wood on the ground and wipe my hands against my skirt.
“My name is Abram Hohlt. I’m Warlord Einarr’s son. I’m here to help you with your door. My mother told me what happened. I would be glad to fix it for you.”
I give him a tight smile, feeling a bit guilty because his mother must only be one woman. “Lady Thyra is very kind,” I tell him. She’s proven to be a good, loyal woman, but I can’t lie and say it doesn’t scare me that she shares the same blood as that evil tyrant she has had the misfortune of calling her mother.
“She is the best. I know how you feel about her, but I want you to know, she hates her mother just as much as you do. It kills her how you see her.”
Wonderful. As if that doesn’t make me feel worse…
“I’ll be sure to talk to her.”
He gives me a bright, genuine smile. He is a handsome young fellow, with dark hair and crisp green eyes. Two small dimples show on his cheeks, making him look a little younger than he already is. A lady shall be very lucky one of these days to have such a kind man by her side. “I shall make you a new door. That may as well be used for firewood,” he says, walking a bit closer.
“Yes, probably. I didn’t think about that at the time.”
“Just as well. I need to chop wood for the castle anyway. I can do some here.”
“Would you like some tea or water? I’m afraid that’s all I have. No mead here.”
“Tea would be great, thank you.” He gives me another dazzling smile, and I take the steps into Beowulf’s house.
It hurts being here without him. Every corner, every cranny, even the furs on the floor smell of him, and it makes me yearn for him even more. I realize I need to open up more, be more accepting of my situation, and be thankful that I’m with someone who used to know me. I don’t even know myself, and I’m not sure where that makes me belong. I clear my throat and boil some water, making tea for Abram outside. I realize he may know what’s going on and why Beowulf isn’t here. I’m quick, and in just a few minutes, I’m back outside, but he is nowhere to be found.
“Huh,” I muse, looking right and left. I’m about to go back i
nside thinking he up and left, but the bushes rustle when he comes out of the treeline, holding a bunch of wood.
“Sorry. I had to find the right size branches.”
“It’s not a problem. Here you go,” I hand him his warm cup, and he takes a sip before setting it on a step.
“Thank you.”
I watch him work a bit. I’m impressed. He is great with his hands. It’s like he has done this a hundred times before.
“Is this what you do for money?” I ask. It’s probably a little personal, but I want to get to know people here. If I want to stay, I have to put in an effort.
He shakes his head with a laugh while tying a few small logs together. “Oh, no. I have been chopping down all the castle firewood for days. Wulf ordered me to do it before he trains me.”
“That’s a big responsibility.”
He nods, but I can tell he doesn’t agree. That’s when I see the huge scar on the side of his neck. I never noticed it until he rubbed it like it was out of habit. “Aye. But I must do it. I will be a warrior like Einarr or Wulf. I want to kill every Jackal there is.”
“You are familiar with them too?” I ask.
“Familiar isn’t the word I’d use. I used to be one. They like taking young kids from their home, but I ran. I ran, and I found Lord Grimkael. It’s what this scar is,” he taps the side of his neck. “I wanted the symbol to be removed. I’d rather have ugly, puckered skin and marred flesh than anything having to do with them.”
“Is that why Beowulf isn’t here? Is it something to do with the Jackals?”
He stops tying the logs for a moment and takes a curious glance at me. “No one knows why they left. I’m assuming Lady Sassa knows, but she won’t say a word if Lord Grimkael asked her not to.”
My hopes deflate so much my shoulders sag. “Oh. Right, of course.” I push a piece of hair behind my ear and sit on one of the steps.
Where are you, Beowulf?
Abram kneels in front of me and takes my hand in his. Already, his young hands are coarse with callouses, and his nails are filthy, showing true grit. “I do not know much about you and Wulf.”
Oh, I can’t stand it when people call him Wulf. It makes him sound like an animal.
“But he is the most capable of all of our warriors. He and Trident are the best. He shall be fine.”
“Everyone always meets their match,” I mutter.
“Wulf already has. It’s Trident,” he says with confidence.
“Right.”
Abram leaves me to take a sip of his tea and gives me a reassuring smile before working on the door again. I want to believe him. I want to believe Abram, more than anything in this world, but I’ve seen the worst of what the Jackals have to offer me. There is someone there to watch out for, and that scares me more than anything.
“Please, come home soon,” I beg to Beowulf in my heart. There’s so much I want to tell him, that I need to tell him, but he needs to get here safe in order for me to do that.
“I’m going to go for a walk. Is that okay? It’s good for me to build my strength back up.”
He stands straight and drops the log he is working with. “Do you need my assistance, Lilith? I know Wulf helped you—”
“I’m fine. I promise. It’s just a quick walk.” I need to clear my head and rehearse what I want to say to Beowulf. I do not like that Abram thinks I always need help. I know I can be headstrong, but I’m independent. I must know that I’m able to care for myself after everything that’s happened. It’s important to me. I do not need my hand held every step of the way.
“Aye. Well, if you aren’t back by time I finish the door, I shall come looking for you.”
“Deal. There is more tea inside. Help yourself.” I point to the kitchen and start to weave through the woods to get to the trail.
I clasp my hands together and tune in to the nature surrounding me. I’m not going to be able to walk outside much longer before it is too cold. I’ll have to take my walks in the castle. I already feel a difference within myself. I’m stronger. I do not sleep as much, and I’m happier. I’ve been in the mindset to be more forgiving too, not just with myself but with others. My mind is starting to get healthy again, and I want to keep it that way.
Even with the chill in the air and the snow on the ground, the sun is out, and it feels wonderful. It takes my mind off Beowulf and my lack of memories. I’m in the moment, just… being. I can smell the snow, hear the trees swaying the slight breeze, and the tall grass on either side of the trail rub together.
It’s beautiful, and it does my spirit just right because I feel better already. Being cooped up all day around the man you’ve known for years, yet at the same time, only days, can really mess with a woman’s mind.
I’m looking down, watching my every step. I’m lost in thought, and soon find myself nose to chest with a stranger. His arm wraps around me to keep me from falling. I yelp as the bone of my hip collides with his sword. I don’t like it. His arms are not comforting like Beowulf’s.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going,” he says.
When I finally meet his stare, I notice the gray eyes staring at me with desire and not concern.
“Um, it’s fine. I was just leaving.” I try and wiggle my way free of his grasp, but his fingers tighten around my mid-section, biting into my skin.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he sneers, breathing his foul breath on my lips.
My heart hammers in wild abandon in my chest when I realize I’m trapped with nowhere to go. I look around for a weapon but see none I can reach.
What am I going to do? I try and push him away.
“Get off me!” I scream, but my weak budges hardly do anything to his massive figure.
His hand roams lower, almost to the curve of my ass, and on instinct, I lift my fist, pull it back, and throw it in the air. My knuckles smack right against his nose, and blood starts to gush. I start to laugh uncontrollably. Oh my goddess, I can’t believe I just did that.
“You fucking bitch!” he snarls, touching the blood flowing down his lips. He spits red onto the ground and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’ll pay for that.”
“Oh, shite,” I yelp, lunging away from his attempt to grab me again. I run, sprinting down the trail to get to the castle, but my endurance is weak. My lungs burn. Everything is starting to hurt. The pain from his sword knocking against my hip makes me scream when it starts throbbing again. His armor clinks together, and the louder it gets, the closer he is. He is catching up.
I let out a scream. I must let someone know where I am. That I need help.
Suddenly, I hear a loud thud against the ground. I swear I can hear the crack of a few ribs from where I’m standing. Taking a chance, I peek over my shoulder to see who I have to thank for saving me from that vile man.
Chapter Fifteen
Beowulf
I’ve had a hell of a week. I’ve gotten pulled out of a burning home, I’ve had to give my own brother a fucking funeral, and I can’t seem to find my nephew anywhere. The last thing I expected when I came home was to find Argent coming after my fucking woman with blood pouring down his face.
Argent is groaning, holding one hand over his nose and the other against his ribs. I probably broke a few when I tackled him to the ground. This man is a piece of shit blacksmith in the village. He is arrogant. He thinks because he makes the armor and the swords for the warriors and the Lord, he can do whatever he wishes.
I bend down and grab him by his blouse, lifting him off the ground half-way. He is wheezing, struggling to breathe through the pain. When I think about what he planned on doing to Lilith, I lift him off the ground and toss him a good fifteen feet before stomping my way to his side, pressing my foot against his ribs. He cries out, begging me to stop, but I don’t until I hear another bone crack.
I won’t stop until every bone is broken.
“You bastard. You think you can lay a hand on her?” I kick him in his side
, and he throws up on the ground. It reeks of pure mead and beer. “You think you have the right?” I bend down and lift him up again.
“She’s fucking mine,” I whisper, and I don’t miss the shiver of fear that trembles through his body.
“I’m sorry, Sir Wulf. I didn’t know.” He holds up his hands, blood coating his palms. He looks so pathetic, begging for me not to hurt him anymore. His greasy hair, dirty face and black teeth. He’s disgusting. A parasite. He deserves everything he gets.
“You tell everyone you fucking know she is off-limits. She is mine. And I’ll kill anyone who threatens her. Is that clear?” I growl, sheath my sword, and spit at the foul man as he runs away.
Turning back to Lilith, I wrap my arm around her and throw her over my shoulder and march away from the mother fucker who dared to threaten her.
A familiar boulder to my right lets me know we are far enough away. I grip her tight, despite her struggles against me. “What in the hell were you thinking going out there alone?”
“How dare you?” she screeches. “Oh, the audacity you have Beowulf! Put me down!”
“No.”
She hits my back with her small fists. I hardly feel it. It actually feels pretty good. “You shall put me down now, or… or—”
“—Or nothing. I’ll spank you if you don’t listen to me,” I warn, lowering my voice to a deep growl. The thought of bringing my hand down against her bare arse instantly gets my cock half-hard. It’s impossible to keep my lust in check. I know she can hear it.
I’m not in the mood for her arguing. I have too much to think about. I need to bathe. I’m filthy, still covered in soot, ash, and sweat.
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