Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

Tight Squeeze: Maneuvering in Cramped Quarters

From A Beginner's Guide to Berserker Bliss

Author Unknown

C allen's words rang inside my head. "Your room?" I rasped. "Why?"

He lifted his chin. "Before we wed, you agreed to do anything I asked, without question."

How many times and ways would our previous bargain bite me? "Isobel Campbell agreed to those terms." I pasted a too sweet smile on my face. "Hello. I'm Elle Bruce. Also, I've acquiesced to nothing of the sort."

He worked his jaw. "Jamie learned Tavish succeeded in turning more of my men against me, and thereby you. He's planning your downfall, and I want you by my side." Determination laced his voice.

"Is he not a threat to the others?" Why not move Gavina and Mirren into his room, too?

"His focus has always been my romantic partner. And now that that's been explained, let's go." Callen wrapped an arm around my waist, led me out of the building and into an actual limo, making it clear the conversation was over.

I reeled the entire drive home. In one seat, father read to daughter, both ignoring the rest of the world. How he could read in a moving vehicle without becoming sick, I didn't know. Beside me, Gavina stared out a window, wistful as she watched tree after tree whiz past.

Even with the danger level so high, I shouldn't bunk with Callen. Right? It was a bad idea. Super bad. Despite our best intentions, prolonged proximity could lead us straight into trouble. Every rom-com proved this. Besides, those blips of attraction I'd experienced? They shouldn't be encouraged. Especially since he might've encountered a few blips of his own. The way he'd pressed the pad of his thumb in the center of my bottom lip…And he had admitted to wishing to remain in my presence.

Something akin to warm honey flowed over me. Except…

I won't sleep with you.

I donna recall asking.

His derision rang loud and clear in my head. Perhaps my safety was truly his only concern. Yes, he'd caressed my lip. Yes, he wanted to be with me and may have seemed moments away from kissing the breath from my lungs before his daughter interrupted us. But that didn't mean he sought a real marriage with me.

On the other hand, he was trusting me with Mirren. Had his ice-cold hatred for Isobel–me–begun to melt?

We reached the castle far too soon. The number of guards lining the security wall had doubled once again. To Callen, Tavish was a legit threat. But which male was more dangerous to my cause? The one who kept me under constant observation or the one with the proven track record of success?

The vehicle eased to a stop in front of the home. "Gavina, your clothes will be delivered within the hour. Isobel, show our guest to her room, then meet me in ours," Callen said, opening the door. But he didn't emerge. He kept his attention on me, his tone polite but firm enough to leave no doubt he'd issued an order. "Say aye," he commanded at my hesitation.

Just how long was this arrangement supposed to last? Whatever the answer, it was way too long! "Yes to the first, no to the second." Not until I'd worked out the details in my head. "I've got plans, and they can't be changed without a cancellation fee you can't afford." I waved the book I'd snagged from his office. Something he supported since he'd offered no castigation.

Gavina blinked at me with horror, as if I'd made some grave error from which I could never recover. But I wasn't afraid. Not of Callen, the man who'd ordered me to move into his bedroom.

A low growl rumbled in his chest. "Isobel."

"Elle," I corrected, beyond exasperated. "For goodness sake, it isn't difficult to say."

"Elle," he grated. "There's something else we must discuss."

Shock surged. He'd actually used my nickname. Of his own free will. His hatred was melting. "Fine. I won't avoid you for long. Just an hour or two."

Mirren glanced between us, growing visibly agitated. She felt her doll's brow and gasped. "Oh, no!" She tugged on a lapel of her father's jacket. "Bonnie is dyin', Da! Dyin'!"

"She's not dyin', sweetheart. I promise you, she's not. She's tired is all. Let's get her inside and tuck her in for a good, long rest." As our group exited the vehicle, Callen did his best to console the girl.

"She is dyin'," Mirren shrieked, refusing to be comforted. "I know it."

My chest constricted. Seeing a big tough man doing everything in his power to cheer up a fragile little girl wrecked me.

He cast a desperate look at Gavina, and my chest constricted with more force.

"Miss Mirren is tired, too," the other woman assured him over the girl's protests. "Like Bonnie, she requires a nap."

I disagreed. There was more going on here than simple fatigue. Since I was the source of the upset, no doubt, I kept my mouth closed.

Nodding, Callen carried his sobbing daughter and her doll into the foyer. Gavina and I followed him up the stairs. Once our foursome reached the top, Callen branched off, heading in the opposite direction, taking Mirren to the chamber next to his. The second locked room.

I cast a glance over my shoulder, an action as natural as breathing. He cast a glance back at me. Something hot arced between us. Then we turned our respective corners, and I lost sight of him.

Good. That was good. I needed to breathe and to think, and he and his smolder brought nothing but breathlessness and confusion.

"—been here in so long," Gavina was saying. "So much has changed."

Had she been talking this entire time? I led her into my bedroom and drew up short. What the— what? The comforter was now pristine white. The clutter I'd caused as I'd ransacked Isobel's belongings, cleaned. Zero sign of Thora and her feeding station.

A suspicion hit, and my feet walked me to the closet of their own accord. Yep. Exactly as feared. All the sweaters, T-shirts, cardigans, and tennis shoes were gone. Callen had already moved me into his bedroom. He'd probably made a single phone call to do it, turning my life upside down yet again.

"I guess this is indeed your room," I muttered.

"You told him no," Gavina said behind me. Awe laced her tone. "Him. Callen. The iron king. Commander of the world's most powerful killers, though few know it. And he didn't slay you on the spot."

Was that the custom? Naysay a king and die? "We have a special arrangement." In more ways than one.

"It's true what they say." She wrapped her arms around her middle. "A firebrand can get away with anything."

Maybe, but I wasn't his fated. Something I would prove if ever he erupted into a rage. Despite my little successes with keeping him calm here and there, I had no idea how to handle a full-on terror fest. "What happens if my mate powers fail, and I can't appease him?" The frightful query escaped before I could weigh the pros and cons. Callen was confident he'd kill me. "Are there other ways to get the job done? Tried and true methods?"

"There are not," she said, giving me a look of confusion.

Well. I pasted a sunny smile on my face. Or what I hoped was a sunny smile. "Of course there isn't." I'd be more careful. If ever he learned the truth—his wife had betrayed him, and I had misled him repeatedly—an eruption was all but guaranteed. A lose/lose situation.

I didn't need to move into his room; I should ditch him altogether. Not to mention finding out Tavish's price so I could regain my identity. Eye on the prize.

"What do warriors who haven't yet found their partner do?" I asked before I could catch the words.

She remained confused by said, "They consume the gelu root. Often. Helps keep them cold, but it's far from a guarantee."

Maybe I could slip this root in his morning coffee? Eager to tap her brain for more info, I shut the door, sealing us inside. But how to bring it up without admitting I wasn't who I appeared to be? "You mentioned my hard life to Mirren."

"Aye. I'm sorry." A blush stained her cheeks. "I shouldna have mentioned anythin' but I hoped to make things better for you."

"And that was sweet, but now I'm curious. What is it you know of my life, exactly? I mean, maybe you heard wrong. At least give me a chance to correct any misinformation." As good an excuse as any.

"Oh. Well. I know your mother died when you were a small child. Rumors suggest she wasn't your father's firebrand, and he killed her while in a rage." Gavina pressed a hand over her heart. "I sympathize with your loss. I was young when my mother died as well."

Well. Had Isobel feared a similar fate with Callen? "Being without a beloved parent is tough, isn't it?" I rasped, barely stopping myself from reaching for my father's coin.

"The toughest." The dear offered a soft, comforting smile before wandering through the chamber, examining things. "Your father's wolf went bad and took him over when you were sixteen, I think, and that's when you went to live with your uncle. He died when you were twenty, and at his funeral you met Callen. "

A funeral meet-cute? Yikes. But how berserker appropriate.

"You two were engaged for a time," she continued, "but then…"

"Roderick. Yes. I'm aware."

She winced on my behalf. "Details after that are scarce. I know you took off for a while, but reentered Mr. Bruce's life soon after Sorcha died. Six months ago, you agreed to wed him. Or he agreed to marry you. No one is sure."

So Isobel lived with Callen as single enemies for a year and a half? What had prompted her return? I recalled Mackenzie saying the redhead had shown up begging for help. What led to the engagement?

"When he and I, um, broke up, that's when he met your sister?" Or had they known each other before?

Gavina nodded, brightening as if I'd selected her favorite topic. "When we were children, our father arranged Sorcha's marriage to his second-in-command. But she came to Callen and beseeched him to forbid the match. I don't know what reason she gave, but Callen heeded her. It wasn't long before they fell in love. Well, she fell in love. He fell as much as someone like him can for a woman other than his fated." Her eyes widened, and she pressed her lips together. "My apologies. I shouldna be speaking of this to you."

The words "as much as someone like him can" rang inside my head. How much love was she talking? A dollop? A gallon? Clearly, she didn't think it was enough, and it couldn't compare with whatever he felt for Isobel. Something he would never feel for another, even a soul switched bride.

Give me more knowledge! I craved it. "I'm glad your sister found happiness. Especially if she was anything like you. I adore a good romance."

Though hesitant, Gavina continued. "There's not much more to tell, sadly. They moved in together and later welcomed Mirren. Two years ago, Sorcha disappeared without a trace, and Mr. Bruce tore the world apart searching for her before declaring her dead." Her voice thickened, tears welling in her eyes. "How'd I do with your history?"

Such tragic lives all the way around. "So good," I said and cleared my throat. Now to circle back to the heart of my questioning. "What did Sorcha do about Callen's rages? Did she feed him the gelu root?"

"He took it on his own. Most sentinels do. And oh, his lack of emotion because of it drove her to distraction. She hated it and wished so badly she had been his—well, it doesn't matter now."

When a fresh swell of tears filled her eyes, I showed her mercy. "That's enough sadness for one day." But I did wonder if Callen had taken the gelu root around me . As cold as he'd been upon occasion…maybe. "Why don't you get comfortable and rest up? And Gavina? Thank you for being you. I'm grateful for your kindness today."

Another blush stained her cheeks. She opened her mouth, closed it. Then she blurted, "I planned on being mean to you. I even called you a terrible name to Callen. That's when he shared your family history with me. I just…I hated you taking my sister's place."

I couldn't not hug her. "Trust me, I understand. No one could ever take Sorcha's place, and I don't plan to try." Callen had defended me? I mean, Isobel. Wow. An unexpected turn.

Gavina hugged me back tight, as if desperate for comfort, so of course, I hugged her tighter. No way this woman was having an affair with Callen. She would have admitted it already.

We broke apart, and I strode from the chamber, shutting the door behind me. Excellent. No guards waited nearby. I better get started on my studies and learn as much as I could before facing Callen for our next conversation. A berserker's temper. Their traditions. Laws and regulations. Punishments and rewards. Fated mates. Gelu root. Anything I could find!

I headed to an empty sitting room one floor down, with the world's most perfect reading nook. If only I had an array of snacks. But no matter. I lounged atop a red velvet settee, cracked open the hardback history tome and read.

And read.

And read…

By the time I finally closed the book, ice chips flowed in my veins and knots plagued my stomach. If even half these things were true, I might not make it out of this soul switch alive.

A throat cleared, startling me. "Brushing up on our history, Mrs. Bruce?"

Mackenzie, the maid who'd helped me get into Callen's bedroom, stood in the doorway, balancing a silver tray. The most amazing scents wafted straight to my nose, and my stomach unknotted. Instantly my mouth watered. I wasn't dead yet, and a girl had to eat.

"Please, call me Elle." How much time had passed? A quick glance out a window revealed a silvery, moonlit garden. Oh, wow. Hours had indeed passed, yet Callen, the "iron king," had never come for me. Even though I'd disobeyed a direct order to appear in his bedroom.

"You missed dinner with the others. "

I pressed a hand over my heart. "You brought me leftovers?"

"Not quite." She placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch, revealing a tea set and a bowl of scones.

"Did Callen send you to feed me?" I could think of no other reason for her willingness to approach without a summons.

"Not quite," she repeated. After pouring the first cup of fragrant floral tea, she hesitated before pouring a second.

So, Callen hadn't sent her, and she planned to join me? What kind of hate-on-Isobel trickery was this?

"I've seen Mirren," she informed me, a note of affection in her voice. "She's resting peacefully."

"I'm glad." Dare I ask about the girl's father?

I eased upright, set the book aside and collected my cup and saucer as well as a scone. Mmm. My eyes rolled back as sweet lemon and tart strawberry burst over my tongue. Oh wow. Perfection.

"If you're done making love tae yer snack," my companion announced in a dry tone, "I need to speak with you about something important."

Twin pink circles scorched my cheeks. "Yes. Well. The scone deserved it."

To my surprise, she appeared to fight a smile.

My heart nearly skipped a beat. Was I winning her over? Making another friend? Not that Gavina was a trusted confidant or anything. Not yet anyway, but the potential was there.

Trying to play it cool and not glom on to Mackenzie, freaking her out, spilling all my secrets and lamenting my woes, I sipped my tea. Oh, good gracious, that was amazing too! "I'll speak about any subject you wish," I said. "After you pass my pop quiz." I didn't quite understand something I'd read; hopefully, she could clarify. "What do you know about the first berserkers?"

"The same tale we've all been taught, I suppose."

"Yes, but maybe I was told something different."

Her brow wrinkled, but she replied, "Sometime in the ninth century, an object known as the Starfire fell from the sky, crash-landing on Earth. People ventured from all over to see it. But once they locked eyes with it, awe-struck spectators couldna bring themselves to leave. For months, the crowd grew, and so did tensions among them. One evening, for seemingly no reason, every observer raged-out. A gruesome slaughter occurred. In the end, only ten combatants survived, each exhibiting physical and mental characteristics of different primordial creatures."

"Yes. The wolf, griffin, bear, dragon, adder, kraken, manticore, lynx, turul, and gargoyle," I interjected. Pictures of the manticore and turul had been interesting.

"Aye. The survivors discovered they'd become immortal and couldn't be killed. Well, not without removing their heart and snuffing out the light deposited by the Starfire. But along with their metamorphosis came a dangerous temper that intensified when they were together."

The gruesome paintings made sense now. "And then?" I prompted. "What happened to the Starfire? Where is it?" What did it look like? How did it change mortals into immortals?

"History claims the Starfire vanished. Many believe the ten survivors absorbed it, but no one is sure, leaving it a mystery of the ages." She slathered a scone with clotted cream before continuing her story. "The ten separated to prevent another slaughter, each setting sail for home or a new territory with the same goal. Guard against other fallen stars. They called themselves sentinels, and over the centuries, their lineage grew."

"No other sky fragments produced the same results?"

"Nay. Now, we tend to keep to ourselves. Actually, anyone who shares our secrets with outsiders, without permission from a royal, is to be executed."

Execution seemed to be the solve-all for berserkers. Such a brutal society.

"All but one original has lost his title or life over the centuries, mostly through challenges or shifting," she continued, determination hardening her voice. "Mr. Bruce is the best of the best."

I chewed my bottom lip. He wasn't the original or she would have mentioned it. Which meant he'd fought his way to the top. But how long had he been in power? He couldn't be super old. He looked so young. So vibrant.

Thanks to my studies, I knew anyone could challenge a king for his crown, at any time, and the battle didn't end until someone died. Same for the princes, who were chosen by strength rather than familial line. I'd read about one female king referred to as a berserkatrix. How cute was that?

The shifting thing perturbed me, even though I'd been briefed previously. The soldiers of each berserker tribe mutated into a different beast if ever they allowed evil into their hearts. Scottish berserkers became those awful wolf-like creatures. American berserkers—which I hadn't known existed, either—transformed into griffins, half eagle, half lion. Was the process reversible?

Could a wolf convert to a berserker again if the evil was purged? Had anyone done tests? From what I'd read, newly turned shifters were supposed to be executed as swiftly as possible. More than the heart was removed. The head and multiple other organs got the boot, too.

The clan considered the berserker-wolves an infection upon the population. Which I understood. Evil was an infection. Kinda like adding yeast to bread. It took over everything. That evil made the wolves capable of perpetrating heinous, depraved acts to feed an insatiable hunger to war with berserkers who hadn't turned, their only enemy. They thought of nothing but their foe's destruction. Some shifters and sentinels lived in different dimensions accessed through something known as traveling stones.

I craved more information about the dimensions, but mentions had been sparse.

"May we discuss my thing now?" Mackenzie asked, not trying to hide her impatience.

"Not yet. The quiz has a final bonus question." I took another sip of my tea. "When and why did the royals cease using titles?" The book hadn't explained.

"Several centuries ago. They did it to better blend with humans from one generation to the next. Now kings are recognized by their kingdom's color rather than a title. Though many continue to use the title in private."

Ahh. Okay, that made sense and confirmed my suspicion. Callen's color must be blue. "Quiz over. You passed. So what is it you wish to discuss?"

"Well." She set the cup and saucer aside and looked anywhere but me. "Mrs. Donahue, the cook, is married to Mr. Donahue, the butler. He accompanies the king to clan meetings, and he says everyone there is abuzz concerning the king's recent behavior. The Donahues are certain you're the reason for the change in Mr. Bruce."

Oh no. What had I done now? What had Callen done? "What has altered? "

"Mr. Donahue refuses to say, since disclosing such details would be a dereliction of his duties. But." Mackenzie drew in a deep breath and exhaled. "We can guess. Mr. Bruce is almost…happy. That's why I've been tasked with offering you a bargain. Seduce Mr. Bruce, putting him in an even better mood, and the staff will pay you. There's been talk that you desire money."

You've got to be kidding me . "No. No way." I wouldn't sell myself for any price. Probably. I could definitely use the cash. But no. Definitely not. I had never purposely set out to seduce a man in my life, and I wouldn't start with a moody, broody husband-captor. It didn't matter that I'd had a positive effect on him. Me. Not Isobel. Did it?

No! I had zero desire to remain in this luxurious prison any longer than necessary. My first priority remained the same: get home to rescue my mother from Isobel's meddling, save my job and pretend there was no such thing as sexy billionaire berserkers.