Mastered by the Berserkers (Berserker Brides #8) - Lee Savino Page 0,10

me against a tree trunk. My hair caught on the rough bark.

Then Jarl was before me, shouldering Fenrir out of the way. He gripped my hair, hard. I gasped. He tugged my head back and sealed my lips with a brutal kiss. His mouth blazed a path down my neck. His teeth tested and gently bit my collarbone. He drew me away from the tree and Fenrir closed in again. Using my hair as a leash, Jarl turned my face to Fenrir’s for another soft kiss. Then back to his for a claiming one. Back and forth while the moon rose and the drumbeat throbbed between my legs. In a moment, they would drag me down and we’d tangle together on the ground. It would be so easy.

I wrenched away. Jarl growled, but Fenrir stopped him from jerking me back. I stumbled a few paces and both warriors let me.

“No,” I said, too soft for any man to hear. “I cannot.”

“Juliet,” Fenrir called.

I faced them with chin raised. “I have given my life to God.”

“A nun. We know.”

“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