“Then you know that I am chaste.”
“You are not chaste.” Jarl stepped close. I retreated from him, only to stop when my back hit a tree. The tip of his mouth curled upwards and his rough hand covered my breast. “You desire us. You always will.” He leaned close and his lips feathered up my neck.
I was panting as if I’d run up the mountain. “You know me not at all.”
“Give us time. We will know every part of you.” Jarl whispered into my ear. I could hear his smirk.
I dashed his hands away. Jarl stepped back, chuckling.
Fenrir came close then, his hands outspread. “Juliet.” Moonlight filtered across his face, gilding his beautiful features. Desire shot through me.
I averted my face.
“Juliet, look at me.” His palm cupped my cheek. It felt so good I shuddered.
“You cannot touch me.” I told him. “I've dedicated my life to God.”
“Which God?” Jarl asked.
I frowned at him. “There is only one true God.”
Jarl shrugged. “We have many.” He leaned against the tree, close to me. “Perhaps that is why your prayers don't work. For me, if one god is deaf, I pray to another.”
“That is blasphemy,” I whispered. What was I doing, facing these men alone? I ducked past Fenrir and shouted over my shoulder, “Do not come near me again.”
I was shaking when I returned to my group. Fern looked at me worriedly. I gathered a slumbering Clover onto my lap and fixed my eyes on the fire. I paid no attention when Jarl and Fenrir joined the rest of the warriors. They were nothing to me. I would never speak to them again. I would remain at the lodge and pray for my heat to pass.
Surely, God would answer my prayers and drive the lust from my flesh, and when that happened, the fever would leave.
But the fever did not leave. As seasons past and autumn gave way to winter, I grew to dread the full moon. My heat did not pass. It grew worse.
And finally came the night when I sat shivering in frozen mud. The Berserkers had watched and waited, and now their patience was at an end.
“This ends now,” Fenrir said, and my heart beat like a war drum.
Jarl and Fenrir would allow me to resist no longer. They would claim me, and my suffering would be over.
It would only come at the cost of my vows, and my pride.
The warriors surrounded me, caging me between them. There was no escape.
Jarl bent his head to mine. “We’re taking you this night.”
And deep down, I felt relief.
4
Jarl
The little nun shrank into herself. She didn’t fight other than try to tug her arm away. It took a mere fraction of my strength to hold her. She gave up and blinked at me. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight, and her pulse fluttered in her throat.
I dipped my head down to whisper in the silken shell of her ear.
“You’re suffering. You’ve been suffering so long you know no other life. But we can end it. You refuse to, so we will. We won't stand by and watch any longer.”
“You can’t do this,” she whispered back.
“We’re Berserkers,” I taunted back. “We’ll do as we wish.”
Her eyes flashed and I straightened, smirking. The Juliet I knew would not cower before us. She’d fight back. Even frightened, she’d fight.
Jarl, Fenrir spoke into my mind, through the mental bond all Berserkers shared. The changing of the guard is soon. We best be gone.
“Come, little mother.” I caught her up in my arms, and strode away from the lodge. Fenrir followed.
Juliet’s breathing grew sharp. I splayed a hand on her back to calm her, and picked up my speed. We flew into the forest. I cradled her close as I pushed through the thicket of hemlock branches. Juliet hid her face against my shoulder. Poor little spaewife.
“What about the girls?” she muttered.
“They will be safe,” Fenrir promised. “The spaewives will watch over them.”
“But—”
“Hush,” I murmured. “You think always of others, never of yourself.”
Juliet tried to wrench herself away from me. When I would not let her, she pressed her lips together and glared up at me. If her gaze was an axe, it’d separate me from my head.
I grinned. “No matter, little mother. We will take care of you.”
When I broke from the trees, I linked to Fenrir, speaking mind to mind. She’s cold.
Fenrir shrugged out of the fur robe he wore. It left his chest bare, but he was a Berserker. The magic that made us allowed us to ignore the cold.
When Fenrir approached to drape the fur on Juliet, she roused.
“No.” Juliet’s teeth chattered as she tried to talk. “You’ll freeze.”
“Hush, little mother,” I cupped the back of her head, trying to ease her back against my chest.
“I won’t freeze,” Fenrir told her. “I’m a Berserker.”
Her brow creased, but she stopped fighting. We bundled her into the fur. She’d need it, as we crossed to the north side of the mountain. Branches and frosted grass crunched underfoot. Fenrir moved silently beside me. I could glide quietly as a wolf, but we wanted to leave a trail.
When we came to a stream, we waded right in. I gritted my teeth against the numbing cold. An ordinary man would freeze, but the magic that healed us would stop any frostbite. Fenrir and I agreed to walk the stream to throw off our scent. It would not stop the Alphas from tracking us, but it would delay them a little.
After a mile walking in the water, we came to the cliff where we’d built our lodge. The moonlight shone down on the lodge roof in silent blessing. We were on the other side of the mountain. Most Berserkers would not bring their mates so far from the safety of the pack, but we had no choice. Not if we were to claim her.
Juliet was quiet, her breathing even. For a moment I thought she’d fallen asleep. Perhaps this would be easier than I thought.
Then she raised her head.
She was still shuddering, her small frame wracked with cold.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“To our home.” I couldn’t keep the pride from my voice. We’d built this place for our mate, and now we were bringing her home.
She sucked in a breath and blew it out in a frosty cloud. “This is a mistake. You shouldn’t have taken me.”
There were a few large boulders in our path. I maneuvered around them and picked up my pace, climbing up the rise toward the lodge. “Why didn’t you scream for help?”
“I didn’t want to disturb the girls. They’ve been through so much.”
“They are safe now.”
She snorted. “Safe,” she sneered.
“They are safe,” I repeated.
“They are my responsibility,” she said. “I don’t trust the Berserkers.”
“We protect them. They are spaewives.”
“Until they are of age to be brides?” she asked sharply. I loved that I held her in my arms and yet she wanted to argue with me.
“They are spaewives.” I adjusted her closer. “Do you want them to suffer the fever, as you have?”
“No.” She bit her lip and looked tormented. Another shiver ran through her.