Page 2 of Heart of a Wolf (Viking Wolves #1)

Chapter 2

Wulfric

Isle of Ulfheim, Off the Coast of Iceland, Year 831

On Fenna’s snow-white back, I ride from town. Kieran snores in the saddle behind me, slumped against my back. I gave him my furs to keep warm, but he still shivers against me. I don’t understand why he’s cold. I’ve never been cold, not even in my human form. My blood runs hot, and when I’m in my furs, the snow can’t penetrate my dense coat to chill my bones.

Following along behind us are my men, their shields and weapons rattling as the horse hooves kick up snow.

“We found him in the sea,” my brother Lyall says, riding up beside me. He was on a separate ship during the trip back from our raid. “There was no sign of another ship. We’ve no idea where he came from.”

Some bastard hurled my mate into the sea and left him for dead. That’s bad enough. Knowing my men locked him in the stinking bowels of the ship like a common thrall makes my blood boil. By the Father Wolf, if I knew the fool who’d done it, I’d have them thrashed to within an inch of their life.

Taking in a deep breath, I let it out. It isn’t my pack’s fault. They didn’t know who he is to me. It’s no matter. As soon as we’re home, I’ll have him wrapped in blankets heated by fire-warmed pans and fed a feast worthy of an alpha.

Kieran will be treated like royalty once we’re mated. As my mate, he is equal in every way. I wonder what his wolf looks like. Is his fur black like mine? He must wake and soon. I need to know all the ways in which he’s meant for me.

I’m twenty-five, and I’d given up on finding my mate. Until I caught his scent. Mountain flowers. Pine trees. The smell of home.

At once, I knew he was mine.

Everyone else in the crowd ceased to exist the moment those eyes, as blue as the sky, found mine.

He smelled like a human, too, beneath all the sweetness, but I suppose that’s to be expected. My men tell me he wore no furs when they pulled him aboard. Whoever left him to drown in the sea must have stripped him of his furs to ensure he died as swiftly as possible.

“What’s got you looking so moonstruck, brother?” Lyall asks, a teasing grin on his face.

I’m sure I look a fool. It’s been so long since I last smiled. “Later.” I want to keep savoring this joy before I share it with my pack.

Hooves thunder and my brother Anders rides up beside me, nose wrinkled. Where Lyall is golden-haired and good-natured, his twin Anders’s hair is dark as night, much like his temper on the best of days. “The stink of that thing! Throw it off your saddle before I do it for you.”

A growl rumbles up from my chest. “Try it, brother. I’ll decorate the road with your entrails.”

Lyall huffs a laugh. “Calm yourself, Anders.”

“Don’t we have enough thralls stinking up the village?” Anders grumbles. “He’s human. Weak.”

Jerking the reins, I force Fenna to halt and turn her toward Anders. “What did you say?”

Anders sneers. “You truly can’t tell? Why did Father name you alpha when your senses are so dulled?”

Lyall looks worriedly between us. “Anders, stop.”

“He’s not a human,” I snarl. “He has only lost his furs!”

“He is so. He reeks of one. Look at how he shivers! Pitiful.”

I swing, and my claws catch him across the face. Fenna startles beneath me with a snort and Anders’s horse shies away in alarm. “Talk that way about him again, and it will be the last thing you do,” I growl.

Anders’s green eyes flash, wound closing on its own. “Since when are you so concerned over a human of all things? They’re the enemy!”

Lyall sighs like he’s exhausted. “The pair of you… Father wouldn’t want this. He told you both to get along better.”

Anders growls but lowers his head and defers to his twin like always. Since birth, their bond has been the strongest. Lyall’s light heart tempers Anders’s fiery one. Scowling, Anders leads his horse farther up the trail.

Kieran shivers against my back, his teeth chattering in his sleep. Is it possible Anders is right? Is Kieran human? But that would make no sense. Why would the Norns curse me with a human mate? Weavers of fate, the Norns know all too well that the humans are our greatest threat, second only to other ulfhednar. Anders is wrong. Kieran only needs to wear some furs, and I will be graced with the beautiful beast that is his wolf.

If we rest now and wake at sunrise, we will be home by midday. “Wake up,” I say to Kieran. I climb from the saddle as he blinks his eyes open.

“Wh-where are we going?”

“To my home.” I’m about to tell him where, but my instincts tell me to shut up. If Anders is right and he’s human, gods forbid, then he might be a spy. We haven’t had trouble with humans in many years, but I haven’t forgotten their crimes against us. They see us as nothing but savage beasts for them to civilize. They’d have us give up our ways and bend the knee to their authority and religion, change our entire way of life. A growl rumbles through me at the thought.

Kieran cannot be one of them. He doesn’t even sound like they do or dress like them. He doesn’t dress like anyone I know, not a warrior or even a farmer. I’ve never seen a coat like his, or those skintight blue breeches.

“We’ll make camp for the night,” I declare, my voice echoing for the others to hear. Then I turn back to Kieran and say, “Stay put while I get the tent ready.”

Kieran nods, blinking slowly. He’s had a rough day.

I prepare my tent. Our tent. Kieran isn’t leaving my side. Around me, my men gather wood and get a few fires going. I glance back to check on my mate. A few mistrustful looks are shot in Kieran’s direction but a growl from me sends my people scurrying along. The meat we bought in town gets skewered and turned over the fire. The smell of roasting rabbit makes my mouth water. “Will you eat?”

Kieran bobs his head, then looks uncertainly over the side of the horse. “How do I, um…”

“Have you never ridden a horse before?” I can’t keep the skepticism out of my voice. Where is he even from? I can’t place his accent.

“No. I think I rode a pony once when I was a kid.” He laughs nervously.

This bewilders me. How has he gotten from place to place without one? Before he can fall out of the saddle, I rush to his side and say, “Hands on my shoulders.” I grip his hips. His eyes widen, color rising in his cheeks, but he sets his wrists on my shoulders, his hands still cuffed. I hoist him from the saddle and he gasps. Once he’s safely on his feet, I lead him toward the tent.

“Go wait in my tent,” I say, motioning toward the largest one in the camp. “I will bring you food.”

He eyes me warily. “Why yours?”

“Because you’ll be safe there.”

He goes without argument. From the slouch of his shoulders to the way he drags his feet, it’s clear he’s exhausted. Once the rabbit has finished roasting, I tear off a few strips of meat, cursing when I burn my fingers, and bring some in on a plate for Kieran.

Gods above. That bronze hair and icy eyes, his angular jawline and pert nose. He’s beautiful and strong all at once—and he’s mine . I never thought I’d find him. I thought those who believed I was too young and inexperienced to lead my pack were right all along. I feared I had disappointed the gods and so they had cursed me to be alone forever.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for you?” I ask, my voice soft and low, the tone one I’ve only ever reserved for prayer to my gods. “Each night, I prayed to every god I know to send you to me. And they did. At last, they did.”

His eyes are impossibly wide. “Okay. Sure. Whatever you say, man.”

Not exactly the confession of love I wanted to hear, but mayhap he’s only shy. Still, his voice is lovely. I don’t like the way he looks at me, though, like he thinks I’m going to hurt him. As if I could ever lay a hand on someone fated for me. Doesn’t he feel the same pull I feel toward him? Can’t he hear the song between our wolves, telling us our hearts are finally one? Even if he lost his furs and can’t shift, he should still be able to feel that connection. I will hunt a wolf for him, skin it, and drape the furs over his shoulders myself if that’s what he needs to understand our bond.

Clearing my throat as if to purge the doubts from my body, I say, “I brought you some meat.” My wolf rumbles in my chest, pleased we could provide. It’s not the same as hunting for him myself, but a proper courtship can wait until we’re back in the village. I set the plate at his feet. “It’s not much, I know. But I promise you when we return to the village, I will hunt the biggest, most powerful of beasts and lay it at your feet.”

Kieran looks from the plate to me, mistrust turning those blue eyes to shards of ice. “What do you want from me?”

So many things. To have him on his back beneath me, taking my cock. To hear him gasp and moan as he bares his throat to me and begs me for my bite. To taste his blood as I bite down, our bond wrapping around my heart like golden threads. I run my knuckles down his freckled cheek. “Share my furs tonight, and you will know all the ways in which I want you.”

His breath catches. Arousal spikes in his scent, and it takes everything I have not to hurl myself on him, tear his clothes from his body, and take him until we’re both spent. I can’t wait until the mating ceremony. Tradition be damned. I must have him.

Curling my fingers gently in his hair, I pull him close.

Then Kieran yanks out of my touch. “Touch me again, and I’ll bite your fucking balls off.”

All the heat drains from my body.

I’m not sure what this “fucking” word means, but his body language and the anger heating his scent make it damn clear my words haven’t had the effect I wanted.

My mate just rejected me. But why?

The anger in his words stokes my own fury, though not at him. At myself, for being so inadequate I can’t even court my mate the way he deserves. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel it. The pull between us.”

He shakes his head. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re fucking crazy!”

I kneel before him so suddenly he jumps. “Don’t lie to me.” The words are practically a snarl.

His heart is racing out of control. I’ve frightened him. “Get the fuck away from me.” He draws his knees up to his chest, huddling in on himself.

He must not be able to feel our bond, that’s it. If he lost his furs, that would explain it. My furs won’t be able to help him. They must be furs from a wolf he hunted, blessed just for him by Fenrir.

“Where did you lose your furs?” If I know, mayhap I can help him find them.

“What furs?”

“Furs like the ones you’re wearing!” When he continues to look at me like I’ve grown a third head, I swallow hard. “Have you… never even worn wolf furs?”

He looks bewildered. “No. Just yours.”

Sickness churns in my stomach. “You’ve never even shifted, have you?”

Kieran just stares at me like I’ve told him where pups come from. “Nope.” Kieran chucks my furs onto the floor. “But you’re gonna see a real shift in my patience if you don’t stop acting like a freak.”

“Never? Not once in your life have you assumed a wolf form?”

“No!” Kieran’s voice erupts from him as he throws his hands in the air. “I can’t turn into a wolf, a poodle, a giraffe, whatever the hell you want me to turn into!”

“That you know of!” This can’t be true. It can’t be. “Are you sure your ancestors weren’t capable of shifting forms?”

He throws up his arms in frustration. “Yes! I’m just a normal human. There. Happy?”

My heart sinks into the depths of my stomach . No. Gods be damned, no! My mate is a human . Every wolf’s natural enemy. The Norns cursed me by tying me to a man with an inborn hatred and fear of our kind, who can never understand our customs and ways—who can’t even feel a mated pair’s connection.

“No…” I say, my voice a choked gasp. A furious roar tears from my throat, and I lash out, splitting open the side of the tent. Kieran flinches away from my wrath as I let loose, gouging holes into the tent walls with my claws, knocking over what little furniture can fit in this small space. I smash a table, splinter a chair. The rage builds inside me, and I can feel my control dangling by a thread. One wrong word, and the berserker will come out and I may not be able to stop him.

The despair breaks my heart. I have waited so long to find the love my mother and father had. The one meant for me. It’s bad enough my brother is constantly questioning my every move and inspiring doubt among my pack. Do the gods truly see me as so inferior to my father, as such a terrible alpha, that they would curse me with such a poor match?

What wrongs have I done to be deserving of this?

Living when you should have died, the berserker within snarls.

Eyeing the claw marks I tore into my tent, Kieran asks, “W-what the hell are you?” His face is ashen, his sweaty hair stuck to his forehead.

When I scent his fear, shame fills me. I take in slow, deep breaths until the rage has lost its grip on me.

When I’m sure I can speak without snarling, I say, “I’m ulfhednar.” How has he never heard of our kind?

“Right. That makes total sense.”

“Oh. Good.”

“No, it doesn’t!” he bellows, making me jump. “How am I supposed to know what that is? None of this shit makes any sense!” He paces up and down, the chains around his wrists rattling. “I get into a boat wreck and next thing I know, there are Vikings everywhere, I’m being sold into fucking slavery, and some werewolf alphahole motherfucker is trying to get into my pants!” He’s panting, eyes wild and wet, his scent laced with panic.

“Werewolf?” I ask, unsure what that word means. Or alphahole. Or half the things he said. “I’m ulfhednar. Not a werewolf. Fenrir, Father of Wolves, blesses the furs of the wolves we hunt and allows us to assume their shape. My clan has always cared for and respected wolves, so he rewards our worship with power. It’s a ritual my kin have done for centuries.”

He rolls his eyes. “So, basically, a fucking werewolf.”

I suppose that is his word for ulfhednar. “Call it whatever you wish.”

Turning away, he mutters, “This can’t be real. This is so fucked. Oh my god…”

“Interesting.” I fold my arms now that my fingernails are blunt.

“What?” he grumbles.

“Most who learn of my kind see us as unnatural savages to be hunted and killed.”

“You are a savage. Not because you’re different—because you’re an asshole.”

Again, I’m unsure what he means, but I can understand his meaning. He’s a good person. Much better than I will ever be. Even if he were ulfhednar, I would be undeserving of him. Of any mate.

Regardless of how I feel, Kieran is in danger. No humans have ever entered our village and lived. Not even our thralls are human; they die too quickly, get hurt too easily, and aren’t strong enough for most labor we require. Our thralls are wolves from other packs who thought they could invade and take what doesn’t belong to them.

No one will trust him. Not unless I make it clear no one is to touch him by accepting our… bond, if I can even call it that.

“Please. Just let me go,” Kieran croaks.

“I can’t.”

“Why? You can’t ransom me.”

“Because I need you to survive,” I say. I laugh bitterly. As dangerous as I am, he’s still safer with me than anywhere else. For now. “And you’ll die out there without me. My pack doesn’t trust humans. If you leave my side, I can’t protect you.”

“Why the hell do you care about what happens to me?” Kieran hisses, voice low and pleading. “Let me go!”

“No.” He recoils from the fury in my voice. “You are not to leave this tent. If you do so, you forfeit your own life. Am I clear?” No matter how powerful I am, there are some things even I can't protect him from. And if my pack decides he cannot be trusted, their voices will overrule my own. I could lose him, and a part of me would go with him.

Throwing on the furs he cruelly discarded, I yank open the tent flap and call for Lyall. He comes running, a tilt to his head and a curious smile on his face.

“Aye?”

“Guard my tent. After moonrise, have someone take second watch.”

He frowns. “I will. Is it about the human? What’s so special about him?”

With a snarl, I raise my arm to claw those words back into his throat. “He’s not—” But the words die on my tongue. When fear widens Lyall’s eyes, shame nearly doubles me over. “I… Forgive me, brother. I don’t know what’s come over me.”

“You are not yourself.” Concern furrows Lyall’s brow. “It’s the berserker, isn’t it? It’s pulling at your mind.”

My mouth runs dry. I nod, too ashamed to speak aloud all the worries and doubts trying to claw their way out of me. An alpha is always strong. He does not force his burdens upon the pack. Without a mate to soothe the natural bestial rage every wolf from an alpha bloodline has, it grows more and more unchecked. A rage that threatens to rob me of all reason and humanity.

“Is he…” Lyall looks over my shoulder into the tent.

My beast doesn’t like another wolf’s eyes on my vulnerable mate. Growling, I move in front of him and conceal the tent’s entrance.

Lyall sighs softly. “He is. Isn’t he? He’s your mate, and that makes this all the more complicated.”

I stare him down. “Not a word to the others about what he is to me. As far as they know, he’s my prisoner and nothing else. If anyone tries to enter this tent while I’m gone, make them regret it.”

I need to get away. Need to shed my human skin and run on all fours. In my furs, everything is simpler. Without another word, I sweep past my brother and make for the trees. Snowfall dusts my shoulders before I'm within the dark shade of the forest.

Dropping to all fours, I let the shift claim me as the black furs I wear come to life and overtake my body, crawling down my arms and turning my hands to clawed paws. On four legs, my troubles disappear. All that matters is the hunt.

I run, making the earth quake beneath my paws. The scent of a rabbit makes my mouth water, but it’s not food I want. It’s blood. The need to rip, tear, and kill roars through me like a storm. Wolves don’t kill for pleasure but berserkers do. We revel in the spilling of blood. The blood of our enemies, our prey… and eventually, our own brethren.

All wolves descended from alphas are stronger than other wolves and risk going berserk unless we find our mate. Even if a wolf is not an alpha, like my brothers, the risk is still there. It can take years before the rage takes over, but it will happen eventually. Any mate will do, chosen or fated, but I never wanted to settle for anyone but the one fated for me by the Norns.

The rage begins with rising tempers and escalates to bloodlust. Then the blackouts begin. Lapses in memory, filled in by blood and the mangled corpses of friend and foe alike. Eventually, we forget we were ever human as the beast takes hold. Every pack handles berserkers differently. Some are exiled. Others are locked away. Many are killed for the safety of the pack. Stripping an ulfhednar of their furs will not cure the rage. Without our furs, we cannot shift and the wolf lies dormant, but the berserker within is powerful enough to take over even without the furs.

Ahead of me, a rabbit streaks from behind a bush and disappears into the shadows. Prey. I will catch it. Crunch the little bones. Lap up every drop of blood until my belly is bloated with it. But first I will let it run. Let it believe it can outrun fate.

Run, my little rabbit.

I will find you.

I will catch you.

I will tear you with my teeth.

When I open my eyes, I’m human again.

Blood covers my hands, the taste like iron in my mouth, like I’ve bitten down on a blade. The rabbit hasn’t been eaten; it’s been mangled. Entrails decorate the snow. Blood spatters the trees. Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow it down.

I’m half-awake when I stumble back to my tent. Another packmate has taken over Lyall’s shift at the tent. The candle that was burning inside has been extinguished but my eyes adjust and allow me to see Kieran curled into a ball in the corner, his back to me. He shivers pitifully. So fragile, like all humans are. Dread grips my heart. How could the Norns give me a mate that could be so easily taken from me?

I grab one of the furs from my bed. Bear fur, by the smell. Kneeling beside Kieran, I drape the fur over him so it covers him from foot to shoulder. I stay at his side until his shivering ceases, until I know he won't freeze in the night and leave me.

So fragile, yet so strong and defiant.

“My little rabbit,” I murmur, dragging my blood-streaked knuckles over his cheek.

Human or not, the Norns made their choice and gave me a mate. I must claim him, and soon. Before I lose myself to my inner berserker, and I’m lost forever to my beast.