Chapter 14

Chapter

Fourteen

From Folklore to Foreplay: Understanding Your Berserker's Roots

From A Beginner's Guide to Berserker Bliss

Author Unknown

M y heart thumped as I approached the full-length mirror in a closet bigger than my living room at home. Deep breath in. Out. Didn't help. Perspiration dotted my palms as I caught sight of myself.

Wow. Okay. ‘Hated' wasn't a strong enough word. I might as well be a genie from a bottle, here to grant wishes. Pearls and gemstones encrusted a sheer blue bra masquerading as a top. To counter its weight and reveal cleavage galore, some kind of stiff boning rimmed different parts of the garment. Transparent pantaloons with cinched ankles and fabric seemingly dipped in diamond powder hung low on my waist and unabashedly displayed panties that matched the bra. Delicate ribbons wound around my feet, pretending to be shoes. A train stretched from the waist of my pants, pooling at my heels, the only reason Callen could get away with calling the outfit a ceremonial "gown." How in the world did this become protocol?

I'd done more reading after a fast shower and lost track of time, allowing me to apply minimal makeup. Isobel's freckles were stark against her pale skin, her waterfall of scarlet waves pinned at the sides. I had to admit, she was a beautiful woman. And persistent. My phone lay on a nearby cushioned bench. For the thousandth time in the past hour and a half, my name had flashed on the cell's screen.

No doubt she was calling about the cash. I hadn't answered before, and I didn't answer now. We would only argue about the money, wasting precious minutes I couldn't spare. She wouldn't make a play against my mother and risk losing a payout; she'd wait until she heard from me. Any second, Callen would arrive and?—

"I do like when you follow my orders."

His low, husky voice filled the space. I spun, my jaw dropping when I spotted him. Every pulse point came to instant life. He looked spectacular. Hot enough to leave a brand. He wore a leather loincloth and odd pieces of armor, going from businessman to barbarian, and I really, really liked it. Almost as much as I liked highlanders in kilts.

For the first time, I could visualize the berserker warrior, charging into battle naked. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. "You're teasing me with this outfit, aren't you?" I asked, running my fingers over the bra and pantalets.

"I am not." Though his hands remained fisted, his lips twitched at the corners, enchanting me. "Long ago, husbands wished to show off the beauty of their chosen mates. I must say, I'm glad the tradition stuck. Also, you shouldn't encourage the attention of others unless you want to watch them die."

"A death threat? Seriously?" I snorted. "Are there berserker-tied punishments that are a little less drastic? A stern talking to maybe? I mean, I get that you're super old, but leadership theory has really advanced. Focus on encouragement and a tailored approach. Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Give me armor. This man-hungry genie costume isn't doing your iron-king brand any favors. I'm basically a fantasy come to life, and you can't deny it. Guys are gonna steal an extra peek, and that's the truth. Why ruin the day with endless bloodshed?"

Voice dipping to a gravelly rumble, he asked, "What are you offering to stay my hand of vengeance?"

Was he teasing? I gazed at him through the thick shield of my lashes and nibbled my bottom lip. "For starters, I'll admit I'm with the hottest guy there, so everyone else is invisible to me."

His pupils expanded over his irises, a sure sign of his interest. I should shut up now.

I didn't.

"For enders, what else would you like?" My voice lowered, too. Red alert! Red alert! I think we had passed teasing and dipped our toes into flirting. A dangerous thing to do, all things considered.

Not my husband, not my husband .

"I'll let you know," he said with a flash of a genuine smile. There and gone, but devastating to my defenses all the same.

He strode forward, opening his fist to reveal an exquisite diamond and sapphire choker in the light.

My eyes widened. "I get to wear that? Me?"

"Lift your hair," he rasped in lieu of an answer. He motioned with a twirl of a finger; he hadn't removed his signet ring. Did he ever take it off?

Trembling, I turned and obeyed, baring my neck. Being a schoolteacher, expensive jewelry had never really figured into my life's expectations. Don't covet what you'll never get, right? But the sapphire glittered, dazzling me. "This is…wow."

His soft chuckle brushed warm air against my skin, and I shivered. My gaze snagged on his reflection in the mirror, shock nearly buckling my knees. For once, he wasn't masking his emotions. I saw heat, confusion and intrigue. The moisture in my mouth dried. His knuckles brushed me, raising goose bumps as he fit the piece around my neck and closed the clasp.

The combination of cold metal and sizzling flesh jolted me. Without thought, I reached up and clasped his wrists, holding him to me, not letting him pull away. Not ready for the incredible sensations to end.

"You wantin' something, lass?" His exhalation fanned over me a second time, even softer, and my breath hitched.

Would he take me into his arms if I offered encouragement?

What are you doing? Resist! I looked away a moment after his gaze collided with mine in the glass, saving my common sense. "We need to be somewhere for something important, yes?"

He stiffened and drew his arms to his sides, severing contact. "Aye, we do. Come." Off he strode.

I followed him out of the closet, my nerves kicking up again. Cool air kissed every inch of my body, as if I were naked, and fresh goose bumps sprouted. Wringing my fingers, I said, "Remind me of the ceremony's rules. You know, the dos and don'ts. I might have forgotten."

He remained stiff and silent as we exited the room. Then my mind blanked entirely. Two lines of armed guards dressed just like him stood shoulder to shoulder, creating a path in the hallway. No one looked at me.

I gaped at the array of beefcake as Callen reached back and took possession of my hand, tugging me along. The flesh-and-blood walls didn't stop at the staircase. They stretched along the driveway all the way to our car. After helping me inside, he slid in beside me. The door shut, and we motored forward.

"The dos and don'ts," he said without preamble, reclining in the seat. But he didn't relax. "You are Her Majesty, Queen of the Bruce territories, Lady of the House of Wolves. Do remember you represent me. Your actions are my consequences."

"House of Wolves? I know you have an internal wolf, but doesn't that particular name suggest you rule over shifters?"

"Just like there are good and bad humans, there are good and bad wolves. The shifters lost control. I will not. I am master of my beast. As for the purpose of the ceremony, it's simple. Together, we will prove you are my firebrand and well able to calm me from my rages, thereby saving our people and innocents."

Whoa. Hold up. "I'm supposed to calm you? But what if I fail?" Breathe. Just breathe .

He frowned. "You have nothing to fear, Elle."

Confidence infused his reassurance, and I almost relaxed. But he didn't know the truth. Wasn't prepared for my failure. Breathe !

I swung my gaze to the window, searching for a measure of calm for myself . Sheep and rolling hills whizzed past as we bumped along unfamiliar roads. Nope, no peace to be found.

"Are you sure I have to attend?" I croaked.

"Yes." He studied me, pensive. When his head tilted to the side in that curious way of his, I nearly screeched. Not the deeper look! "What is it you fear?"

"You," I admitted. "Your temper. You'll hurt me."

"I won't," he vowed. He attempted to change the subject. "When will you drop the American accent?"

"Never," I responded with a laugh bordering on hysterical. Here was proof I wasn't his fated and couldn't do anything but scream for help when he raged. "You don't like anything about it? Even a little bit?"

"I prefer honesty."

So did I, hence the accent. I detested living this lie in every way, shape and form. If he weren't so entrenched in tradition, he could be my hero and end it.

"Is the other king here to provoke you?" I asked, wrapping my arms around my middle.

"He is. If I can be soothed in his presence, I can be soothed with anyone, anytime."

The sense of hysteria intensified. "How did you know I was yours?" My history book had barely touched on the subject. "I seem to mostly upset you, never to soothe you."

"I just knew. And you will never be in danger," he assured me, his features fierce with determination. "I won't allow it."

More confidence. But again, it was based on a lie, making it meaningless. Why didn't he "just know" I wasn't Isobel ?

I was close to hyperventilating when the car eased to a stop. He didn't wait for the driver, but opened the door and emerged into muted morning light. My stomach churned with sickness. Though I only wished to hide, I eventually accepted his offered hand and glided out of the vehicle, entering the outdoors.

Gray clouds obscured the sun, darkening the sky. A chilly breeze scented with heather and earth drove me closer to my companion's furnace of a body. Heat enveloped me as soon as he wound an arm around my waist, and I refused to read too much into a sudden influx of peace.

I scanned the area. Multiple SUVs parked behind us, many of the guards I'd seen at the castle exiting. Prince Jamie stood in the distance. But there was no one and nothing else around us. No American king and his own entourage. No animals or landmarks. Only a thick layer of mist twirling over lush emerald pasture.

Callen released me, and I whimpered. To my surprise, he cupped the side of my face and traced the pad of his thumb over my cheek. "Trust me."

I breathed deep—and nodded. What else could I do?

Pride stamped his face. He took my hand as he marched forward. The men strode our way, gathering behind us. No one spoke or stole a glance at me, but everyone held daggers and radiated aggression.

Nerves buzzed as we cut through the mist. My tremors returned and redoubled when we came to a stop, the vapor thinning to reveal a group of twenty ancient warriors. I spied three women among the cluster, the rest males. All clutched weapons and wore an assortment of leather and metal paired with skinned fur and severed bones and claws. Like Callen, they possessed those black slash tattoos on their arms.

The one standing at the head of the horde, with his harsh features splattered in red paint—or blood—possessed as many marks as my husband.

I inched even closer to Callen's side. He squeezed my hand, offering comfort. Around us towered a circle of huge black stones that reminded me of Stonehenge, set in groups of two, each with a flat top. The traveling stones, no doubt.

Had the other warriors teleported into the circle or something?

"Elle," Callen said, "meet His Majesty King Malachi of the House of Griffins. Mr. Cromwell to most. Malachi to us. Malachi, meet Elle."

He wasn't whipping into a frenzy of rage around the other royal. Maybe I could calm him. Wait. "I know you," I said to Malachi. He had shoulder-length brown hair with a slight wave, a dark complexion, chiseled cheekbones, and thick eyebrows that paired nicely with his trim beard. "You played a sport. Something with a ball. And you have a line of shoes or something. You've dated several famous actresses and models." I'd seen his photo on magazine covers.

Amber eyes stared at me with expectation. He said nothing. Uh. Um. Had the ceremony already begun? Was I supposed to do something besides babble about his hobbies and past girlfriends? Had I insulted him by doing so? What was expected of me right now? A curtsey? Should I offer a special greeting or remain silent?

Panic sparked anew, my breathing growing choppy. I looked to Callen for help.

He turned into me and lowered his head, putting his mouth directly over my ear. He whispered, "You are a queen, and you do whatever you wish." He nuzzled his cheek against mine before straightening.

Shivers rained over my spine. He made it sound so easy. But okay. All right. I lifted my chin. Never mind the tingle spreading from my cheek and the almost irresistible urge to lean into my unexpected harbor in the storm. For the moment, I was a queen. More than that, I was a teacher. I'd corralled my students every year. I could do anything.

"Let's begin again while I'm no longer starstruck." I pasted on my sweetest, first day of school smile. "Welcome, Malachi. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. I ask only that you behave yourself while you're here and not seek the attention of those around you." Callen gave my hand another squeeze, this one a clear warning. "What?" I asked him with mock innocence. "That is what we say to royals attending this ceremony, yes? I know it's the greeting I received."

Malachi snorted before swinging his gaze to a smoldering Callen. The two exchanged words in a lovely language I didn't understand. Judging by their wry tones, I was the topic. But their semi-pleasant tones soon morphed into barking tenors, and I stiffened. Exchanging insults now?

On instinct, I geared up to run. But then the two stepped closer and slapped each other on the shoulder. Callen did this without releasing me, and I heaved a sigh of relief. They were friends?

Hubby Dearest lifted my knuckles to his lips and kissed, leaving me reeling. He didn't look at me, and he said nothing, but he let me go and gave me a gentle nudge toward Buzz and Ponytail, who stood at the front of the crowd. "Not a scratch," he told them.

Where? On me? "What's the plan?" I asked as the pair ushered me forward. All the other warriors were currently backing up, forming a circle inside the stones.

The two guards remained silent, working together to herd me toward the rest of the crowd without ever actually touching me. As soon as I reached a spot distanced from the other spectators, my escorts took posts at my sides.

Prince Jamie approached. Buzz moved aside, making room.

"The plan is simple," Jamie said, his attention fixed on the royals. "Both Callen and King Malachi forwent gelu root to allow the spark of rage. They will fight. If Callen can hold his temper till the end, which is far worse than that of any other sentinel. Our army must accept that you are his firebrand and a reason they, their families, and innocents are forever safe from the king's wrath."

"And if his temper is triggered?" I croaked.

"You will calm him and prove the same. Though I doubt they will respect you as much."

"And if I fail?"

"Then most of us will die today as we attempt to stop him." To punctuate his words, thunder boomed and lightning flashed, electrifying the air.

Bile burned a path up my throat. "Maybe we should give him the gelu root, just to be safe."

The prince frowned at me. "Everyone would know by his scent, and no one would ever accept you."

I didn't care about their acceptance when lives were at stake!

In the center of the ring, Callen and Malachi faced each other. Aggression mounted, far worse than what I'd sensed before. I expected a countdown. Something. But faster than the next flash of lightning, Malachi threw a brutal one-two punch. Callen's face whipped from side to side, blood spraying from his nose and mouth.

Gasping, I flattened a hand over my heart. Right before my eyes, the bone in his nose snapped into place and his jaw realigned on its own. Cut skin wove back together. Crimson ceased flowing.

No one cheered the healing. Everyone remained on edge, watching Callen and me. Expecting him to erupt?

"Your make-the-enemy-strike-first strategy will get you into trouble," Malachi warned. "One day, an opponent will deliver a blow you cannot recover from."

An icy smile lifted the corners of Callen's lips. "That opponent isn't you, and that day isn't today." Whoosh. He nailed the other man in the center of his throat—with a dagger. A dagger he cruelly twisted before removing.

I blanched, smashing a hand over my lips. Malachi healed quickly, too, at the same time slamming an elbow into Callen's wrist, forcing him to relinquish the blade.

From there, the fight was on. My eyes widened. Oh. My. Goodness. They were wild animals. Punching. Kicking. Clawing. Kneeing. Stabbing. Hacking. Neither showed mercy. Streams of blood slung here and there. Skin split, and bones shattered. Someone spit teeth across the dirt. They sometimes spoke in that lovely language, but they never cursed or screamed in pain. Occasionally, they grunted.

Despite the staggering level of violence, they moved with surprising grace as if they enjoyed the challenge. Relished it even. And they were fast. Unnaturally so. Each seemed to predict what the other would do, a split second before he did it.

Not once did Callen act out of control, and I began to chill. To enjoy the spectacle of it all. I'd only ever seen a fight like this in movies, with the help of special effects. It was gruesome but without the taint of fear, it was also kind of hot, with a show of rippling of muscles and utter brute strength. Nothing stopped or slowed my husband. He overcame any blow and delivered double in payback, all while glistening with sweat.

Thunder boomed with more force, and a smattering of icy raindrops fell. The battle raged on, even when the sky opened up and deluged us, soaking me in a blink. My teeth chattered from the cold.

"He's proven himself already," I remarked. "Either give me some pom-poms so I can cheer him on the right way, or let's blow a whistle and call it good."

Jamie scowled at me. "I don't know what you hope to gain, but this game you're playing with him must stop. When you betray him, and you will, you'll break him, and none of us will be able to put his pieces back together this time."

The animosity in his voice raised my hackles. "I've been good to him since the wedding, and not even you can argue that fact." Though I did know a traitor had infiltrated Callen's team, and I'd said nothing. To protect myself, yes. But. In doing so, how many others did I leave in jeopardy? Everyone? No one? Callen claimed Tavish cared about me alone. "Mostly good."

A sword cut through Callen's shoulder, and I winced. Winced again when he sank deeper into the blade to glide closer to Malachi—on purpose. He plunged a dagger into the other man's eyes, a quick one, two jab, just as lightning flashed, highlighting each blow. I cringed as blood poured from the sockets. Of course, that was the exact moment Callen happened to glance my way, checking to see if I observed him .

I blew him a kiss, and it would've been sexy, I was sure, if my teeth chattering hadn't worsened.

When he noticed my frozen condition, he frowned.

Malachi stabbed him in the gut, and I flinched.

Callen refocused on his challenger, and turned up the heat, getting down and dirty. Filthy even. Soon the soldiers were cheering the absolute depravity of the combat.Ultimately, Callen won the fight, leaving the other king gasping in the dirt as he stalked over and swept me into his arms. Rain washed away the blood and gore smearing him as he carried me toward the car.

"You did it," I praised. "You kept calm." I wasn't sure how he'd done it, but I was too cold to think up a possible explanation. "I'm so proud of you," I murmured, snuggling deeper into his warmth. Despite the violence he'd wrought against the other man, I felt no fear.

He stopped long enough to tip my head up with his index finger and search my face. "Since when does the vicious Isobel not demand more blood while viewing a battle?"

Had she really? Well, enough of that. "Since today. I'd rather see people happy than bleeding, and I won't apologize for it. I don't care how much it embarrasses you."

Did he just snort?

"Not caring about the feelings of your king is a serious offense." He tsk-tsked. "A punishable offense." He couldn't hide the relish in his tone.

I slapped his shoulder. Or rather, I meant to. I somehow ended up slipping my palm up his chest and toying with locks of his hair. "You aren't concerned by my seeming fragility?"

He kept his gaze straight ahead. "You are softer than I ever realized, and I find I am…glad of it."

Was he beginning to see me, Elizabeth? Did he like me? My heart leaped, as if jolted awake from a long slumber.

A wolf howled in the distance, a menacing sound drenched with malice, ruining the moment. Callen's peaceable exterior vanished in an instant, his muscles tensing and bulging. New aggression pulsed from him.

A second later, total chaos erupted.