Mated to the Berserkers: A Menage Shifter Romance (17 page)

It would be so easy to end everything, put Brenna out of the misery of being mated to rutting beasts. It would be better this way, and quick, just a snap of a fragile neck.

No, Brenna…Our mate.
I fought to remember her, her sweet, soft skin, sighs in sleep, her lying naked between us. 

Come out, my love, come into the light.

As the beast took hold, my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I saw my beloved and, beyond her, Samuel cringing in the shadows. The magic was eating him alive. He was hurt, hiding himself, his savagery was the bluff of a wounded animal. I sniffed the air and scented his weakness. Fear. Longing. Like a pup for its mother. An old man for his rest.

My fingers gripped the edge of my seax—a long, wicked knife. With a grunt, I tossed it beside Brenna. She glanced down. The lullaby never ceased its silvery hum.

I wanted to lay down and die in the beautiful sound.

Brenna would be safe if I died. She had the seax. She could kill Samuel. It would be so easy.

“Brenna,” I croaked, it came out more a growl. “Kill…him…”

Brenna ignored the massive knife by her feet. Instead, she took a step forward.

She knelt, facing Samuel. Her head tilted to offer her own throat in the gesture of submission we’d taught her.

Watching her, I hated myself. We’d beaten her down into a plaything for us. We’d taught her to kneel to bow and beg when we should have taught her to fight.

She stretched out her hand. The magical song increased.

A growl in the dark, a curious sound.

I bowed my head, wanting to rip out my eyes, for I could not bear to see my beloved’s death. In my mind’s eye, I still saw her, a woman on her knees, her arms reaching for a beast of shadows and rage.

When I opened my eyes, the beast, the monstrous shape between man and wolf, had moved into the light. Brenna had not moved.

Samuel, Samuel.
Came the psychic echo.
Be at peace.

I felt a shift within my own breast. The beast still reigned, but it was quiet, controlled. The pieces of me joined together by perfect magic, as if the poisonous taint had melted away.

Samuel Changed, like a wolf commanded by its Alpha. The wolf pushed against Brenna’s hand, harmless.

Some strength comes come from axes or swords, or claws and teeth. Or magic.

Some strength comes from within. A lover’s love. Brenna saw the beast, and she did not run. She faced it. We’d shown her who we really were, and she’d accepted it.

I rose to my knees on the cool, dry soil. Samuel shifted again, this time into a man. The beast looked out of his eyes but when he spoke, he was all Samuel.

He bent and cupped Brenna’s chin where she knelt. “You have conquered us.”

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As the moon rose over the dark earth, I reached out to the pack, calling them back from where they’d scattered. In the morning, they’d return to rescue Samuel, Brenna and I from the pit, but this night, this one magical night, was ours and ours alone.

Brenna stood in Samuel’s arms, caressing his face in wonder. He pulled her up against him, and I stepped close enough to press myself against her back. She sighed and quivered between us and our questing hands. We couldn’t stop touching her, running our hands down her smooth flesh, unharmed.

“You didn’t run,” Samuel said in awe. “You didn’t run.” She pressed her cheek into his palm.

We sank to the floor. I held Brenna in my arms as Samuel used a claw to split her dress from neck to knee. When it parted it released her gorgeous scent. Angling her face to mine, I kissed her, speaking my need to her through the insistent pull of my lips.

She shifted her bottom on my cock, rubbing against me even while her arms reached for Samuel. Desperate clawing need roused us—I felt lust pour through the bond, a raging passion, a flood of desire.

My fingers delved into the cleft of her bottom, even as Samuel bowed over Brenna, fastening his mouth to her center. Her legs trembled as he pleasured her. He stopped when she was on the cusp.

We take her together.

I nodded. My finger tunneled into her bottom, using her copious juices to ease its way. We would claim her ass and pussy together, driving into her with all our passion, until she understood that she belonged to us, forever.

We would never let her go.

“Aye. It is time.”

Samuel lay down and set our beloved onto his thick shaft. She sank down slowly, guided by his corded arms. Strain showed on his face as he signaled me.

“Now.”

Bending over her, I tipped her forward to fit my cock in her arse. She shuddered as I eased into her.

“Easy, lass.” I petted her back, giving her a moment to adjust. She was tight, so tight. I could feel Samuel’s member in her weeping pussy, and when I reached down to stroke her clit, I touched him, too.

Brenna arched her back, taking more of me inside her. Samuel stroked her hair back from her face.

“So good,” he encouraged her. “You are a miracle.”

My cock slid all the way into my beloved’s rear. I moved gently, with shallow strokes, getting her used to the movement. She tensed at first, then relaxed. I kissed her fine shoulder.

“Ye please us, lass.”

“Ours,” Samuel claimed her mouth. “Forever.”

He began to move under her, his hips rolling gently. She rocked between us as her breath came in little pants. Samuel stroked her breasts, and I kept fingering her clit. Blood roared in my ears. The beast’s hunger took hold, making me move faster. I swept her hair away from one smooth, pale shoulder, and fastened my mouth on her. My teeth scraped skin.

Mark her.
The beast within spoke to me, to Samuel.
Make her yours.

With a hoarse cry, Samuel reared up, his hips pounding Brenna as his teeth claimed her other shoulder.

Fangs grew in my mouth. My head snapped forward with need and my jaw closed down onto her shoulder. The beast was insatiable. Her blood filled my mouth.

She bucked between us, suspended in pleasure and pain. I jerked and came into her, filling her ass with my seed. Samuel came with a roar.

Brenna’s head rolled back, limp with pleasure. I buried my face in her hair, tasting her sweet blood. The beast howled its pleasure as I lay down and slept.

*

We woke in a tangle of limbs. Brenna lay between us.

I reached out to Samuel through our brother bond. The mental path lay between us, strong and secure, as if it had always been.

What happened?

The beast took hold. She survived.

My memory returned and in a panic, I pushed back Brenna’s hair back to see the sort of wounds we’d marked her with. Samuel did the same, and we both touched the unbroken skin of her shoulder with wonder.

“What magic is this?”

Instead of a bloody wound, all that remained of our claiming marks were two neat sets of punctures, beautifully healed.

Samuel traced his marks on her right shoulder. “Mating bite.”

“That means…” My voice choked. Mating heat, mating bond, mating bite.

She woke then, and we knew it before she opened our eyes. She was our mate now, and we were connected as if her mind linked to ours. When her eyes did open, she saw us watching from either side of her. She looked first to me, smiling as I touched her hand to my lips. Her head turned towards the Alpha, taking in his leonine features as if searching for a trace of madness. When she was sure there was none, her smile widened.

Then we heard her soft voice in our minds, clear and lovely as the clarion sound of birdsong on the morning breeze.

Hello, Samuel.

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The End

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Thank you to all who reviewed
Sold to the Berserkers
and encouraged me to write more of the Berserker series. Samuel, Daegan and Brenna’s story continues in the final installment
Bred to the Berserkers.
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About the Author

Lee Savino writes books about women finding their power in genres ranging from fantasy to romance. The stories come from deep inside her and the characters often act of their own accord while she watches and writes.

She lives in Richmond, Virginia, USA with her husband and son. While she studied creative writing Hollins University, her first novel, Raven and Wolf, set in 9th century Viking Norway, won the Hollins Fiction Prize.  

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Copyright © 2015 Lee Savino

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.