Mastered by the Berserkers (Berserker Brides #8) - Lee Savino Page 0,30

and held it between my own, studying it for any trace of claw or fur. But it was a normal hand.

“Tamed by your voice,” Jarl said. He sounded almost smug, but I didn’t understand why.

“You have made us whole,” Fenrir said, and slid me off his lap so I lay between them. “You have this power. Why would you deny it?”

I shook my head. I was so tired. “The priest said—”

“The priest is dead,” Jarl growled. He still sounded like the beast. “Thorbjorn killed him.”

Fenrir gripped my arm. “The priest was punished for his sins against Sage, Thorbjorn’s mate. The man was evil, Juliet. He was not chaste or pure. He broke the very laws he preached to you.”

Was it true? I searched Fenrir and Jarl’s faces. But I didn’t have to search their minds. I had my own memories from my time in the abbey, first as an orphan, then as a nun. I lived by rules of poverty and chastity, bore their weight and had been broken by them. And yet the man who’d never missed a moment to shout at me of my sin was guilty of despicable acts.

My face crumpled. “Everything I’ve known is a lie.”

“It was, little mate. But now you are free.”

“No,” I moaned over the pain in my chest. “I do not know how to live free.”

Fenrir sat back. He was silent a long time, regarding my words. “Then we will bind you to us. One way or another.”

I dreamed of a monster roaring through the forest. The dark shape rushes the magical boundary at the foot of the mountain. The bodies of the enemy rush him and fall, limbs snap like dry branches and the scent of rotting flesh rises in waves to choke him.

I jerked awake, clawing at the sunlight air. I knew without looking around the lodge that Jarl was gone. The fire was cold and at first, I feared both warriors had abandoned me. Then Fenrir came to my side.

“Come, Juliet. The sun is high.”

“Where did Jarl go?” I clutched the fur. My body still trembled as if it expected the enemy to rush me at any moment.

“He went ahead to clear a way for us.” Fenrir laid a new dress on the bed beside me. I touched it before I could stop myself, amazed by the fine woolen garment. It was a rich purple, a color too fine for a peasant. Way too fine for an orphan girl turned nun. Not that the Berserkers would care. They brought me a dress fit for a queen and I must wear it. They’d torn all my other clothing to shreds.

“What does it mean, Jarl is clearing the way for us?” I asked as I dressed.

“You’ll see.” Fenrir produced a pair of fur-lined boots and knelt to put them on my feet. He tugged me up and ran his hands down my bodice. His fingers stroked over the wool and I felt them as if he plucked my bare skin. My body hummed under his touch, a tune only he could play.

Too soon he took his hands away. “Come. We are leaving today.”

“Where are we going?” I wriggled my toes in my new boots.

“You’ll see.” He grinned and I blinked at the sight. I rarely saw him smile.

With Fenrir’s help, I braided my hair into a thick braid. He shouldered a large pack and adjusted his belt, checking the long knife and axe strapped to his waist. Then he took my hand and led me out of the lodge to face the day. We turned down the mountain path, but instead of avoiding the boundary line, he marched me straight toward it. There was no sign of the Grey Men, the dead beings the Corpse King raised for his army. But my stomach still flipped the closer we got to leaving the witches’ protective bubble.

“Is it safe?” I toed the line between the living meadow and the churned mud where many draugr had patrolled.

“It is now,” Fenrir gripped my hand and gripped a long knife in the other. “But we must hurry.” He tugged me over the boundary. I felt the magic roll over my face, like I’d pushed through a curtain of water. We broke onto the other side, panting.

“Run,” Fenrir was still grinning as if it were all a game. Was he mad? We raced for the trees. My feet pounded the ground and my new boots served me well.

We reached the tree line but kept running. He didn’t