Sold to the Berserkers: A Menage Shifter Romance (2 page)

When I was done, he lay a hand on his chest and uttered a guttural sound I didn’t understand. He repeated it twice, then lay his hand on my chest.

“Brenna.” I could barely make out my name, but I nodded.  

A shadow of a smile curved his full lips. Shrugging off the gray pelt he wore, he wrapped it around my shoulders before pulling me back into the circle of his strong arms.

My heart beat faster. The pelt’s warmth seeped into my tired body, and the big man held me steady. I still felt frightened, but waited obediently in the dark haired warrior’s embrace. I dared not struggle.

The brush around us rippled and the warriors surrounded us. I shrank towards my black-haired captor, but he held me fast, turning me so I faced the warrior who seemed to be their leader.

The blond was so huge, my neck had to tip back to see him. He moved forward and I couldn’t help trembling so hard I would’ve fallen if the dark haired warrior let me go. Every instinct in me screamed that this was a wild man, a beast a dangerous monster and I needed to run.

He reached out and I flinched.

His hand halted.

He swallowed, as if trying to remember how to use his voice.

“Brenna.” My name was no more than a soft growl. “We mean you no harm.”

I studied him. As big as the warriors were, the blond was one of the largest. He walked lightly, muscles bulging. Long locks of blond hair brushed his broad shoulders. His face was rawboned and half covered in a beard, the defining feature his great gold eyebrows over those amazing eyes. 

When his gaze caught mine, his eyes glowed.

His hands touched my face, a thumb stroking my lips. He tilted it to and fro. He pushed my hair away from my neck. I shut my eyes, knowing what he saw, the white weals and gnarled tissue, healed into a disfiguring scar that had taken my voice, and nearly taken my life.

I barely remembered the attack: a large dark shape rushing at me from the shadows, then pain. Lots of pain. My mother told me I lay near death for days. No one thought I would survive, but I did.

Some believed it would be better if I hadn’t. Even though I healed from the attack, the scars marked my face and my life. The boys used to chase me down the street, throwing things. I grew up learning to blend into the shadows. To move silently so I wouldn’t draw attention to myself. Later, when my mother married my stepfather, I learned to cower and hide.

“Her body is pretty enough,” my stepfather once said about me. “Just put a bag over her head so you can stand it.”

Now my new owner tipped my head this way and that, studying the scar. He nodded, looking satisfied. “The mark of the wolf,” he rasped.

A ripple went around the assembled men, and the other warriors pressed closer. The black haired man held me still, hefty arms around my body.

I wished I could ask what the blond warrior meant.   

The men surrounded me, staring at my hideous scars.

My blond captor released my jaw and I ducked my head down again in shame. His large, rough hands caught my head again, and raised it, but this time he cupped my face.

I shut my eyes. I couldn’t even cry out. This man now owned me. I’d resigned myself to living life with a disfigured face, unwanted and unloved, but I’d never thought I’d become a slave.

“Brenna,” the command came in that rasping growl. “Look at me.”

Somehow I obeyed and met the leader’s steady gaze. Something in that golden glow mesmerized me, and I felt calmer.

“Do not be afraid.” His throat worked for a moment, as if he was trying to remember how to speak. “Is it true you cannot speak?”

I nodded.

“Can you read or write?”

I shook my head. This was the strangest conversation I’d had in my nineteen years.

He looked frustrated, exchanging glances with the warrior who held me.

A voice spoke at my ear, still rough and guttural, but a bit more clearly than before. “We would like to find a way to talk to ye.” The speaker turned me to face him, and I flinched as he brought his hand up, but he only examined the scars as the blond had.

By the time he was done, all warriors but the blond had melted away. Dark hair touched my cheek and I winced, realizing there was a bruise on my face from when my stepfather struck me.

The blond crowded closer, a sound rumbling in his great chest, not unlike a growl.

“Brenna,” he said. “We will not hurt you. I swear it. No one will ever hurt you again.”

The dark haired one took a few locks of my hair in his hand, gripping them lightly and raising them to his face. He breathed in my scent, then looked at me with glowing eyes and said in a clear voice.

“Ye belong to us now.”

*

The rest of the night passed in a blur. We walked into the woods, the thick darkness, and went along a path. The warriors went behind and before, I was safe in the middle.

Finally exhaustion took over and I stumbled. Instantly, the dark haired warrior swung me up in his arms, and the group’s pace increased. His hand came up, pressing my face to his neck.

I must have slept, for when I woke again, the blond was carrying me. I lifted my head blinking in the starlight and cold night air. The warriors must have walked all night, and were still hiking, following a trail up a mountain. I roused a little and stared into the leaders golden eyes.

“Sleep,” he grunted. “Almost home.”

*

I do not know how long I slept, but as I slept I dreamed. The starlight fell away into a deeper darkness. I was in a warm, safe place with two warriors leaning over me, large hands sifting through my hair. One of them pulled out a dirk and sliced away my gown, and then the hands began stroking down my body. Their touches fed my heated desire, and in my dream I longed to pull their bodies over mine, wordlessly begging them to fill me.

Instead, I lay still as they touched me with reverent fingers. I heard them speak, but not out loud. They didn’t use words but somehow I understood them.

“The witch was right. She calms the wolf.”

A grunt of agreement, then a pause. “I can smell her heat.”

“Patience, brother. We have waited this long.”

They lay on either side of me, still touching me. In the darkness their eyes glowed.

“Brother,” one said in a tone of awe. “The beast rests.”

“As does mine.”

“It has been so long.”

“Too long. But the struggle is over. The beast will sleep again.”

*

I woke cradled in softness, my body a bit too warm. Sweat trickled down my bare breasts. My gown was gone; the memory of the warriors stripping me, at least, wasn’t a dream.

When I moved, I touched a body lying in front of me and my eyes flew open. A warrior lay beside me, his large form in repose. We rested in a pile of pelts, in a dark room lit by a fire. In my sleep, I’d curled on my side facing the dark haired warrior and there was barely a hair’s breadth between my bare chest and his.

Stretching a little, I pushed the thick fur from me.

His body felt so warm. I wriggled back a little, and the man’s eyes opened and twinkled. I met his gaze without fear. We’d shared only a night and half a day, but I felt at ease with his friendly expression. His smile boded well for my life as a slave.

“Brenna,” he greeted me, and his voice, rough with sleep, sounded clearer to my ears. “Did ye sleep well?”

I nodded. He rolled onto his side, facing me, and his broad, muscled chest filled my vision. Part of me wanted to cringe and slip away, but I reminded myself that this was my new master. I may as well lay there and let him do what he would. Besides, I was comfortable on the pelts.

The warrior shifted closer, his light brown eyes glowing brighter. I could make out every dark lash. Slowly, as if he might startle me, he lifted a large rough hand, and touched my face with more care than I would’ve guessed he could muster. I lowered my eyes as he caressed me, letting him take liberties, smoothing my skin and pushing back my hair.

Strange as it was, lying beside a man I’d never met, one who’d bought me in the woods in a humiliating transaction, I enjoyed the moment, the warrior’s rough and gentle fingers. An outcast who kept to her accepted lot, I wasn’t often touched. It felt nice.

Too late I realized he was exploring my scar and jerked my head away.

“Shhh, still. I won’t hurt ye.”

My hand came up to cover the scarred side of my neck and face.

“Ye dinnae like it?”

I shook my head. The scar was my bane, my curse. It made me too ugly for marriage to a village boy, it made me fit only to be a slave.

My hand pressed harder, but pulled it away from my face, frowning a little as he examined the weals underneath. As much as I wanted to struggle, I held my body still. This was not my secret lover, or a friend. He was a warrior who had bought and paid for me. I had to remember that, if I was to survive.

My new life’s aim was pleasing my new masters. The longer I did that, and stayed alive, the higher my chances to one day find a way to escape.

I held onto this thought as I stared at my dark haired bedmate, blinking hard to hold back tears.

“Isnae so bad, lass. Just a wee mark. It makes ye different, but it isnae enough to take from yer beauty.”

I blinked. No one had ever called me beautiful. The warrior pulled my hand away from my face and kissed it. His lips worked at my palm, tickling me with the bristles on his chin and jaw. The skin around his eyes crinkled with a mischievous smile.

Just like that, I felt warmth rush to all my secret parts. My womb clenched and filled with longing.

The flood of desire was so sudden and shocking, I automatically tried to tug my hand away.

He didn’t let it go. Turning my hand, he laid kisses down my wrist, sucking lightly at the skin over my pulse. My heartbeat leapt tellingly, and he grinned full on.

“That’s it, Brenna. There’s a good lass.” His eyes caught fire, brightening with that otherworldly glow.

Despite myself, I shifted, feeling arousal pool as wetness between my legs.

He paused, scenting the air. If I’d thought his eyes were golden before, they burned ten times hotter when he angled his head closer to me. Slowly he bent his head, ready to touch his mouth to mine… Transfixed by those beautiful eyes, I couldn’t move if I tried.

Something moved behind me and I startled, then panicked. I caught a glimpse of blond locks as I started thrashing. There was another man in the bed. In my fixation on the dark-haired warrior, I hadn’t noticed the second, massive form. 

Before I could rise, the dark haired one caught me, pulling my trembling body back onto the pelts.

“Be still,” another voice rumbled.

Immediately I froze. The animal sound raised the hairs on the back of my head.

The dark haired man wrapped burly arms around my torso. His thigh rested over my legs, capturing me thoroughly. “Calm, lass,” he breathed into my ear, a touch of amusement in his tone. “Tis only Samuel.”

Slowly I turned my head to Samuel and met the blond leader’s wild gold gaze.

“Do ye remember Samuel? He carried ye up the mountain. Dinnae hurt his feelings. He will grow surly and sulk all day.”

My brow furrowed until I realized the dark haired one was teasing. Under the short beard, Samuel’s mouth softened a little from its serious expression.

“Starting without me, Daegan?” he spoke over my head to his warrior brother.

“Just a wee kiss.” The black haired warrior rolled me to my back so I could look up at both of them. I swallowed hard, trying not to show on my face how intimidated I was.

They loomed over me, one dark and the other fair. One serious and intense, the other with a mischievous glinting light in his eye.

Their touches became bolder. A hand soothed down my hip.

The worst was how my body responded. I shifted anxiously as a prickle of heat curled through me. I fought it, closing my eyes.

“Open.” One grunted, smoothing my hair back from my face.

I did and he rewarded me, bending down as if to kiss me. He inhaled deeply, then raised his head.

“So good,” he commented to his brother.

“Just as the witch said.” Samuel ran a long finger down the side of my face.

“Do ye feel it?”

“I feel it,” the blond confirmed. Their voices were still rough and deep but they were stronger.

The dark haired warrior reared over me, settling beside me as I lay back looking up at him.

“Brenna,” he said, putting his hand on my chest as he had last night. His voice was much clearer than the guttural grunt it had been before. He placed his hand on his chest, and this time I caught his name. “Daegan.”

He seemed to be waiting for me to answer, so I nodded.

“Samuel,” the other said.

Like my dream last night, their hands started stroking up and down my body. Starting with my face and drifting down either arm, their hands touched and caressed.

Samuel’s brushed my breast, my nipple hardened suddenly and I startled.