Chapter 15

Chapter

Fifteen

Team Berserk: Slaying Challenges Together

From A Beginner's Guide to Berserker Bliss

Author Unknown

W olves arrived en mass, running and launching at soldiers. Grunts and growls blended. Fights broke out in every direction. Men against beasts. Or rather, beasts against beasts. Each warrior but Callen changed .

Shock punched me, delivering one internal strike after another. Finally, I witnessed a berserker's alteration, times forty! Rings of azure fire overtook the irises of Callen's warriors. Men who doubled in size. Muscles bulged, tearing their clothing. Sharp claws grew from their nail beds. A blue glow framed them, while a red glow framed Malachi's soldiers.

The wolves were just as huge. Darkness seeped from their scalps to give them a shadowy mane. Those shadows also grazed different parts of their bodies, resembling fur. Rather than being filled with glowing rings, their irises glowed crimson. Their faces remained a little too humanoid for comfort, while their elongated mouths possessed far too many fangs.I gawked at both sets of immortals as icy raindrops pelted my skin, collecting in my lashes. I'd known what they were—in theory. Seeing them live and in person, well, there was no way I would ever survive a berserker's rage or an encounter with a wolf. And here I'd been poking at the monster all this time!

Expecting the untransformed Callen to toss me into the car and join the fray, I braced. Instead, he switched directions, sprinting toward the circle of stones, carrying me straight into the action.

"Take me home," I screeched.

"Wolves can tear through metal. The safest spot for you is inside the circle. Wolves can't enter."

A beast charged at us, fangs bared, but Callen used his free arm to bat the creature aside as if it weighed nothing. Another wolf lunged and bit his thigh, but he didn't even wince before punting it in the face.

Claws swiped toward me. Callen twisted, taking the blow. The sight of his torn flesh…

"I want to go home," I cried.

"I will die before I allow harm to come to you," he vowed, "and I cannot die."

A laugh bubbled up; a hysterical, broken sound. He could so die. A wolf only needed to remove his heart. But now probably wasn't the best time to remind him.

All around us, berserkers shredded wolves, and wolves shredded berserkers, each attempting to hobble the other. Severed limbs flew. Blood sprayed, tainting rain puddles that collected over the ground. But the truly frightening thing? The berserkers were smiling. When they finished with one attacker, they purposely hunted another.

"The longer the wolves remain near the stones, the weaker they become," Callen said, absorbing more blows meant for me.

I beheld weakened wolves? What must these creatures look like in full force? "Why did they come here?"

"Good question." His lips thinned as he kicked a wolf several yards. "They know they can't win, so why risk it?"

Halfway to our destination, a huge, snarling beast dove through mist, aimed straight at us, claws and teeth bared and the ready. My hands lifted in reflex to hold the monster at bay, but Callen palmed an ax strapped to his back and swung, cutting off the creature's head mid-air. Hot blood splattered over my face.

Callen picked up the ax as we raced past, and another laugh bubbled from me. Blood. On my face. Searing me to the core of my being. From a wolf-shifter who'd hoped to murder me. Words poured from my mouth, and I couldn't stop them. "I need to shower." The rain wasn't enough. I required soap and sandpaper.

"I'm a little occupied at the moment, wife." With only one arm available, the other busy holding me, he took down two, four, six more wolves, all while running up a hill.

Several of his men joined us, flanking his side, ripping through anyone who got in our way. Though the warriors had entered their battleheat, becoming true berserkers, they didn't focus their menace on each other. They must be the exception to the ‘everyone dies' rule.

The rain came down harder, and the wolves ramped up their attack. My heart pounded. Callen never missed a beat, somehow keeping me uninjured while brandishing his weapons. But sizzling rage had begun to pulse over his skin. I felt it. How long before he transformed and lost himself in a battle trance?

Can't let him . "I demand a shower, Callen. Now!" On some level, I knew I wasn't vocalizing the right thing. But the desire to shut myself into a stall and wash up grew urgent, overshadowing even my panic.

"Soon, I promise." His understanding tone almost proved to be my undoing. Slash, slash. He ended two more wolves.

"Please?" It was all too much. Tears stung my eyes. I clung to him. "I'll behave from now on, I swear."

A muscle jumped in his jaw. As we closed in on the stones, a line of wolves formed in front of us. Callen didn't slow. Rather, he tightened his hold on me and dove, curling his body around mine. Like a living wrecking ball, we crashed into the wolves. I heard fierce snarls and felt acrid breath on my flesh, but I sustained no injuries. No bites or scratches.

We landed and rolled, Callen absorbing the worst of the impact. He popped to his feet, tugging me to mine. Oh my goodness! Bites and scratches littered his body, crimson wetting his mutilated limbs. He'd taken all damage upon himself, and it only sharpened his rage. Was a trance imminent?

The wolves didn't follow us, at least; they remained outside the circle, prowling while staring at me and drooling. The intelligence and hatred in those neon eyes…

I shrank back. "I–I want a weapon," I told my husband.

The muscles between his shoulders bunched. He tossed me adagger hilt first without looking my direction. Shaky as I was, I missed and had to swoop down to grab it.

How would Isobel handle this situation? Yawn and check her nails? Demand a folding chair and popcorn? No way would she ever break down and cry or beg to go home. I was probably embarrassing my big bad berserker king with my weakness. I mean, he and another king had just stabbed each other in an attempt to provoke his rage. Granted, Callen had claimed he liked my softness. But. The dagger shook in my grip.

He stepped in front of me and twirled his ax, daring the manimals to come closer. The snarling wolves pawed at the ground, only to part. A grinning Tavish walked behind them, all casual-like, as if a war wasn't being waged in the background. He hadn't shifted into his wolf form; he looked exactly as he'd looked before. Annoyingly smug.

Was he about to betray Isobel and announce their relationship? Sweat dampened my palms.

"Hello, Mr. King," he said to Callen, his slow drawl grating on my nerves. "Donna worry. I'll take my toys and go home soon enough. I just wanted tae meet the new Mrs. Bruce, is all."

Lie! He wouldn't risk his army for such a silly reason. Especially since he'd already met me. But why act as though we were strangers?

He turned and inspected me from head to toe, as if he'd never seen me. "She's prettier than the last one. But is she stronger? Let's find out, shall we?"

Silent, tense, Callen stalked forward. "You are dead."

"Not today. But I'll grant you a go at me very soon." Smile growing wider, Tavish backed up, disappearing in the mist.

Surviving wolves ran off, fleeing the battlefield. The horde of berserkers, both American and Scottish, crouched to give chase. But Callen straightened and howled an otherworldly sound that chilled my bones. Malachi joined in and every berserker stood down, twitching as if fighting the supernatural adrenaline zipping through their veins. Some even bit the metal of their weapons.

Frozen and soaked, I scanned the devastation outside the circle and gagged. No matter how magnificent my host was, I wanted out of this brutal world. ASAP.

Scalding water poured over me, but I couldn't get warm. I stood under the shower spray with my head tilted back, letting the evidence of the battle, and my tears, wash away. I missed the old days when I'd only theorized about the validity of berserkers and wolf-shifters.

To escape this nightmare, I needed a new plan. And money for a false ID, motels, food and travel. But Icouldn't sell my necklace. Callen had stored it in a locked case once we arrived home. Hie might owe me twenty-five thousand pounds; he might not. I'd lost track of the end result of our bargain. I could only seek and attempt to claim it. If he denied me, I'd have to steal it. Then, as soon as I reached Oklahoma and facilitated a soul switch with Isobel, I'd call him and explain the situation. Tell him everything. The trade. Isobel's betrayal with Tavish. The mole in his midst. I would even promise to pay back what I'd taken.

I'd then go into hiding to keep myself safe, since berserkers even killed the innocent party. A fate I didn't enjoy, but accepted. He, in turn, would ensure Isobel never switched with another person and faced her consequences.

But, to perform a corrective trade, I needed Tavish. Someone I didn't trust, even though he'd kept my secret. Especially because he'd kept my secret. What game did he play ?

Did it matter? Whatever his aim, I would pay him to do the switch, then execute a double cross, helping Callen defeat him. First, though, I'd have to send the wolf a message. But how? The mole?

A mystery I must solve. The most likely culprit was Buzz. He'd guarded my door the day of the invasion. He and Ponytail had witnessed Isobel's first interaction with me. Or perhaps the mole was Mackenzie; her boldness with me suggested she'd shared an uncommon familiarity with Isobel. What if she knew of the switch? Hmm, that was worth exploring.

I shut off the water, toweled dried, blotted my damp hair, and dressed in a blue camisole, a white cashmere cardigan, and comfy tights. Hmm. Still cold. How I craved Callen's warmth.

My phone lay on the bathroom counter, near one of two gold faucets. A blinking light alerted me to a message. Whoa! Twenty-seven messages, to be exact, all from Isobel. Most were selfies of her with my mom, and my chest ached. Both women were smiling. Only one image came with text.

Tick tock. Momma's happiness is soon to go bye-bye .

Anger collided with frustration. I typed out a message of my own: You will get yours, Isobel Bruce .

No, that would only make her angry and who knew what she'd do then. I hit the backspace button until every letter erased, then stuffed the device in my pocket and exited the bathroom, only to stop short. Callen sat on the edge of the bed, head bowed with his forearms resting on his thighs.

Without lifting his head, he looked up and gave me a languid once-over. His pupils expanded, then slowly unfolded to a stand.My breath caught. He'd showered and changed and now wore a plain white T-shirt and faded jeans, with the hems tucked into combat boots. So casual. As far removed from the barbarian who'd decapitated an assembly-line of wolves.

Awareness arced between us, parts of me heating at last. "Where did you wash up?" I tried for a normal tone, but I wasn't sure I succeeded.

"A guest bathroom." If he tried for a normal tone, he absolutely failed. He sounded…hungry.

Tingles rushed through me. "You didn't rage-out today," I commented softly.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "You needed me not to."

"If you're here to talk about the ceremony," I began.

"I'm no' here to talk of that." He straightened slightly, studying me with an intensity I felt in my bones. "That will come after."

Flutters teased my belly. "After?"

"Malachi noted your lack of mark." Possessiveness blazed in Callen's eyes as he stepped toward me. "We're goin' to remedy that."

Mark? Like his tattoos? I jumped back , stretching out my arms to ward him off. "Are you telling me those tattoos denote the number of times you've been married?"

He blinked rapidly, searching my face as if I were some kind of unsolvable puzzle. "I knew your father and uncle kept you in the dark about the ways of our people, but I had no' realized you were this sheltered."

Um… "So you don't have hundreds of wives in your past?"

"You are the first." His tone dropped to a low, husky baritone. "The only."

Ignore the newest flutters . "What do the tattoos denote, then? And what's amark? Why do I need it?" Knowing he accepted cluelessness from Isobel opened a thousand doors of opportunity for me. If only I'd obtained this info sooner.

A muscle jumped in his jaw. One of his tells. "A mark is something a sentinel husband gives his wife on their wedding night to forever protect her from other immortals, if ever they are parted."

Okay, a source of protection could come in handy. But. "I'm still unclear about what this actual mark is. And why didn't you take care of it on our wedding night?" Isobel had been with him. Right?

Hmm. At what point did we actually switch?

"The mark is better shown than explained." A pause ticked on and on before Callen admitted, "I didn't intend to mark you at all."

I swallowed. "Why the change of heart?" Did he expect it to magically fix our problems?

"Because you are…different. We are different." He flashed the barest hint of a smile, and it appeared genuine. "With time and patience, I believe we can forge a solid connection."

He did like me. And yes, I liked him, too. But… "I'm not ready for this."

He worked his jaw. "We'll discuss it later then. I hear footsteps."

"Daddy!" Mirren burst into the bedroom. The little girl ran to her father, tears streaming down her cheeks. Someone had arranged her mass of dark hair into an elaborate series of braids. "You can't leave, you just can't!"

Callen caught her and lifted her to his chest. He planned to leave?

"My apologies for the interruption," Gavina called outside the open door. Too polite to enter without permission? "If I may, I will collect Mirren?— "

"You may no'. You are dismissed for the evening."

"Of course." There was no argument, no questioning his decision. Gavina shut the door, and that was that.

Callen darted a gaze at me before kissing the tip of his daughter's nose. "I must leave, darlin'. I keep the kingdom safe, so you are kept safe."

"Nay!" Adorable in a pretty blue dress fit for a princess, she locked her arms around his neck. "I won't let you go."

"You're leaving?" I asked, a baffling mix of disappointment and relief flooding me. "Am I going with you?"

His gaze found me again, his mood dovetailing. "Tavish threatened your life. He will answer for his crime, and you will stay here, where you will be safest."

"But your temper?—"

"When dealing with enemies, I require my temper." He flashed another genuine smile. "Miss me while I'm gone."

Was he flirting with me?

"What if you die?" Mirren sobbed against him.

He gave one of her braids a gentle tug. "I willna die, I promise."

My stomach flip-flopped. What if Tavish died? Who else knew how to perform a soul switch? I needed a Plan B. Or was it C/D/E at this point? "How long will you be gone?" How could I stop him from succeeding without endangering him? Unless Tavish wanted him to leave me alone. The wolf had surely known what would happen when he'd challenged two berserker kings. "When do you head out?"

"Nightfall, after I tuck Mirren into bed. I'll be gone three days."

Three whole days? Both an eternity and a too short blip. But also good for my cause. Maybe. Probably. If I was right about Tavish. If the wolf came to visit me and offered to switch me back …

"You'll be guarded at all times," Callen assured me.

Ugh. And yay! Safety—good. Being constantly watched—not so much. But I would find a way to accomplish my goals. I must. "I'll need money." Might as well go for gold while I had the opportunity.

He drew in a deep breath. "I'll leave you a card."

A card was traceable, but okay. All right. This was an excellent start. "What's my limit?"

"No limit."

Whoa! Why would he do something so foolish? Did he not understand Isobel planned to drain him dry?

Mirren cried harder, breaking my heart. "Don't go, da. Stay."

"I do what I must, and this I must do," he replied, a catch in his voice. It, too, threatened to break my heart. "You can use the time to get to know Elle."

I didn't understand. He now trusted me with the child? But why? Why?

I considered our past interactions. The time I'd accused him of buying and kidnapping a bride. Barged in on his solo breakfast—twice. Looked up details about him online. Broke into his bedroom. Cried in front of his men.

His words must have irritated Mirren. She stopped wailing and wiped her nose on his shirt. "But I donna want to get to know her," she said between sniffles. I took no offense.

"Yet you will do so," he informed her in an intractable tone. "Won't you." A statement from a king, not a question from a father.

Her bottom lip trembled, but she nodded, clearly recognizing the difference between her parent and her sovereign. "Aye."

"And you," he said, peering at me. Smoldering at me. " Though it goes against my instincts, I won't give you the mark until you agree. But we will continue its discussion upon my return."

Anticipation overpowered my nerves. An unacceptable reaction. Not that it mattered anymore. I should be long gone before his arrival, forcing Isobel herself to take the mark. "Be safe," I rasped.

He dipped his chin. "Nothing will keep me from you, lass."