Mated to the Berserkers: A Menage Shifter Romance (6 page)

“Yes, the scent belonged to a werewolf,” Wulfgar continued cautiously. “But he did not smell natural born.”

Hackles raised, I snapped. “Not Red Moon pack. Not unless they’ve decided to taint their ranks.” My lip curled at the expression. According to the Reds, Berserker wolves such as Samuel and I, and our whole pack, were abominations, born of evil. They’d sooner allow a human in their pack than a magic born werewolf.

I knew this because my father had been one of them, until they cast him out because his true mate, a witch, bore him a child. Me.

One thing the Red pack and I agreed on: Berserker wolves were dangerous. The magic that flowed in our blood inspired killing rage.

Like the rage I felt now. “On the mountain?”

“No. I scented him when I was on patrol, at the stream. Fergus tracked him to the edge of our land.”

That settled me a little, but my lips curled away from my teeth, and I felt energy church through me, priming me to run, to hunt, to attack.

To kill.

In the past, if a werewolf trespassed, I’d have the pack run him down and teach him a lesson. Things were different. I had a woman to protect. Neither part of me, man or beast, would allow a threat to her to live.

“I want him found and thrown in the pit. Alert me when it’s done.”

“As you wish, Beta.” Wulfgar hefted his axe onto his shoulder, and barked across the clearing at three other warriors lounging in wolf form. “Patrol. Now.”

Trouble?
I caught the echo of Samuel’s voice coming to me through our shared bond. The magic that made us wolves linked our minds, and during times of strong emotion we could hear each other as clearly as if we were standing side by side.

No.

Silence reigned on Samuel’s side of the bond, but he did not assert his Alpha power, which could force any wolf to bow to his will.

A possible trespasser. I sent wolves to deal with him. I pushed the words towards Samuel’s mind, sending a brief impression of my worry.

I held back any feeling of anger. As Alpha, Samuel bore the brunt of the Berserker rage. When the beast took hold, he was fearsome, the most powerful of all of us. All well and good on the battlefield, but in times of peace, when the taint of magic took hold of our minds, he was the most vulnerable to losing control.

Pacing around the campfire, I waited for my swirling emotions to calm.

Daegan of Alba,
Samuel spoke my name, and sent an impression of how he saw me. Dark-haired, with sinewy muscles under the furs I wore as clothes. A capable warrior. I sensed a bit of censure, as if he understood why I stayed away and tried to protect him, but didn’t like it.

Come.

I wish to wait a while. I will not be responsible for your loss of control.
I protested.

You are not responsible for my weakness, any more than Brenna is responsible for my strength
.

She soothes the beast.

Aye.
Samuel sighed.
But perhaps it is time she meets it.

Our conversation continued as I walked down the hall carved from stone. To show Brenna the beast could mean her death. But if we held back, and lost control, it was even more dangerous.

Ye remember when she met us as wolves. She’d been terrified. I’d never forget the look on her face. She’d rather face death than us in wolf form. How much more will she hate us when she meets the monster?

She doesn’t hate us.
Samuel assured me.
She accepts our wolf form. She will accept the beast.

Ye have more faith in her than I.

Perhaps.

“I hate talking to ye when you’re like this.” I grouched as I entered our chambers. “You’re so damn calm. Ever since ye tried to become a monk, whenever we argue you have this infuriating tone. You’re so bloody reasonable.”

“Living on bread and water in a monastery with nothing between my thoughts and madness taught me the value of reason, if nothing else.

“I thought ye hated being a monk.”

“Not enough to take back my old name.” Samuel had been Sigmund before his brief conversion to the White Christ. A good strong Norse name. “I spent most of a century as Sigmund, and most of this one as Samuel.”

“Which do ye like better?” I was curious. We weren’t talking about the pressing matter of Brenna and our future true mate, but it was a relief to converse about mundane things.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m Samuel now. The old Viking is gone.”

He was right. Other than his immense battle prowess, Samuel’s calm and control made him fit to lead. Wulfgar had some of the same qualities-the power of the raging beast, and a steadiness and strength to back it. Too bad Siebold hadn’t learned the same.

“I wish The Viking—” I referred to Siebold by his nickname, “was gone. If we offered him to Yseult--”

“No.” Samuel wouldn’t even joke about such a thing.

I went to the dais, and nudged a few of the pelts aside and realized Brenna wasn’t sleeping.

“Where is she?”

“In the bathing chamber, washing her garments.”

“Alone?”

“A few minutes won’t hurt. I’ll set Fergus to guard if you wish. It’ll be good practice for him.” Samuel watched me pace nervously. “We can’t keep her cooped up forever. Much as I’d like to.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“She must meet the pack, and learn our ways.”

“Exposing her to the pack will help nothing. She’s not our true mate.” I snarled. “Even if we want her to be. You heard the witch?”

“I heard.” Samuel sat on the dais, arms resting on his knees. Tall and broad, he looked like a giant compared to most men. The only thing that could defeat him was the rage within.

I felt a stab of anger. The witch’s words made me feel helpless. The beast hated the feeling.

“Why would the runes lie?” I kicked at the woodpile we kept to light the braziers, wishing it was an enemy. For a moment the bloodlust roared in my ears. “We need her. We can’t let her go, ye know that.”

“I know.”

I tore my hand through my hair, feeling my nails sharpen to claws. They bit into my skull, and I stopped moving, took a deep breath. Extreme emotion brought on the beast. This close to Samuel, I had to keep control.

“Forgive me, Alpha.” I offered apology to offset his humiliation. Samuel was the strongest of us, being unable to control the beast rankled. “It’s just…we kept her in the cave, coddled and cared for. She lacks nothing…beyond contact with the outside world.” The wolf in me whined, happy in the understanding that we kept our mate safe and cared for.

Not our mate,
I reminded it.

“Did Yseult tell you how many years will it be until we lose control?”

“Ye know she did not. Damn…” I tried to think of an insult more than ‘witch’, and couldn’t. “…witch.”

“Perhaps the runes did not reveal that.”

“Does it matter? The beast takes over quickly, ye know that as well as I. When it does, we must be ready to send Brenna away.” Or she would die. The beast did not recognize past lovers as friends. It did not recognize anything. It knew one thing: destruction. It was the destroyer. The world was mere fodder for its violent hunger.

“Is it possible—”

“No.” He cut me off but I finished anyway, “she is our true mate?”

“Humans cannot mate with werewolves.”

“Then what exactly have we been doing with her all this time?” I eyed the dais where we’d spent long hours ravaging our beloved. We were as gentle as we could be with her, but in the heat of passion it was easy to slip.

One day that slip might end her life.

Shuddering at my dark thoughts, I focused on Samuel’s lecture.

“A true mate means three things: they can bond with us. Survive a mating bite. And can conceive.”

“And give birth.” I leapt on the word.

Samuel glared at me. “None of these things can happen. We won’t allow them to happen.”

Grasping for an argument, I started, “My mother—”

“Was a witch with great magic.”

“Like Yseult. My mother was powerful in her own way. In the end, though, it wasnae enough to save her.” My thoughts were so dark, I was tempted to turn into a wolf and run away. An afternoon chasing rabbits put things in perspective. Especially when followed by an evening with Brenna.

“The runes only confirm something I suspected. Brenna is not our true mate. She cannot bond with us. She cannot survive a mating bite.”

“Then why did the runes tells us to find her?”

Samuel sighed, a sound full of a hundred years of hopelessness. “I do not know.”

I started pacing again. “If we try to send her away, she may not go. She’s too honorable.”

“Then we must leave her before we lose control.” Samuel’s face turned to stone, and I knew he was silencing his wolf. My own wanted to howl at the thought of losing our beloved.

“The longer we wait, the more likely the beast will win.” It would only take one slip, one dark night where the beast ruled, and the unthinkable would happen. The beast was merciless. It could rip through battle-seasoned warriors like a gael through a forest. What would the gael do to a flower?

Samuel took a deep breath. “We must hang on as long as we can.”

“Ye cannae take it all onto yerself.”

“Daegan—”

“No, Samuel.”

“I am Alpha,” he growled and my eyes snapped to the floor in automatic response to his stern tone. He didn’t need to show his strength for me, or anyone else, to feel it. “The pack is not stable.”

“Ye take too much on yerself.”  I didn’t meet the Alpha’s eye, but my tone chastised. Of all the pack, I was the only one who could stand up to the powerful blond warrior. The pack needed me, too. If the Alpha succumbed to the Berserker rage, what chance did the rest of us have? We would follow Samuel’s lead or be torn apart.

“If ye take on too much of the taint, it will weaken ye.”

“It’s been so long. I know what it’s like,” he said hoarsely.

I nodded.

“They deserve relief.”

“They will get it. Our true mate will balance us, and the peace will spill into the pack. We will find her. We have to.”

Even as he said it, my wolf growled in despair. Brenna is our true mate, it insisted.

No. It cannot be.

“In the meantime, we will allow Brenna to leave the cave with us. We can’t keep her hidden away forever.”

“No,” I snapped without thinking. “It’s too dangerous.”

Samuel raised an eyebrow. I lowered my gaze carefully. “Alpha. I merely point out the danger of introducing our beloved to the pack.”

“They will benefit from seeing her. Even if we cannot claim her as mate, her presence will give them hope.”

I couldn’t say anything, so I called the magic to me, and shifted. The world dissolved and came into focus again, in sharp, colorful scents. The strongest of which— a blue fog edged with red and black—came from Samuel. Melancholy, tinged with despair.

“I do not like it anymore than you do,” Samuel said. “We will be at her side the whole time.”

As a wolf, I fixed my Alpha with a hurt stare, making clear without words that I wished we could keep our beloved safe in the cave with us forever.

Samuel nodded sadly. “As do I.”

A brief stint chasing rabbits did me good. I washed up in a mountain stream and shifted. By the time I returned to our quarters, Brenna had finished her washing. Her dress and a few furs lay on the rocks to dry, and she had entered the pool naked.

I stood in the cave of hot springs, watching her bathe. The waters filling the cavern were the reason we’d chosen to make this mountain our home. That and the rooms and tunnels crafted by dwarves long ago.

The water lapped at her reddened buttocks as she bathed. I admired the grace in her simple movements. From the first day we bought her, she had the poise and elegance of a queen.

When I had enough of watching I started into the water. She startled and whirled as if she had forgotten me. I grinned and waved a hand to see if she’d forgiven me for tanning her arse.

Her lips curved in scorn. She turned and set her back to me.

Chuckling, I settled on a rock to enjoy the view. She couldn’t stay in the water forever.

When she finished bathing, I called, “Come on out, lass. I have a gift for ye.”

She approached warily, and I was struck by the contrast between her pale skin, and her dark hair and fetching doe eyes. I couldn’t resist pulling her into my arms and pressing a kiss to her cold lips, and stroking her hair back from the white weal on her neck. Even her scar was lovely to me, because it was a part of her.

I showed her my peace offering: a cloth filled with berries I’d picked. They won me a smile, but she folded the cloth and set it aside on the rock. My lady took my hand and pulled me to standing. She reached up and traced my features, my nose, cheeks and brow. I knew what she saw, a man of indeterminate age, dark-haired with light eyes that turned gold when the magic was upon me. Years of hard living had turned my face rawboned and rugged, but the magic that allowed us to heal quickly also extended our lives. For all its faults, the beast kept us young.