Page 2 of The Stolen Bride (Kings of Fury #2)

Chapter

Two

Before You Attempt to Tame Your King of the Wild, Learn to Harness Your Own Power

–HOW TO TRAIN YOUR BERSERKER

By Elizabeth “Elle” Darcy-Bruce

I hung over the wildebeest’s shoulder, limp, my mind performing circus worthy acrobatics to catch up with my circumstances: a hot, growly muscle man was hauling me around as if I were a sack of potatoes while muttering under his breath about irritating invaders. The nerve!

And how dare he accuse me of being afraid of him? I feared nothing! Usually. I mean, had I entertained a twinge or two of anxiety since our initial meeting? Yes. But that proved nothing except my well-honed defenses required fortifying.

“I can walk, thank you,” I snipped, scrutinizing the towering trees of the forest, on the hunt for an escape route. The underbrush was thick with ferns and shrubs, blocking any sure path out. “Hey! I’m speaking to you, Carry McCarryson. Put me down.”

“Nem. You’ll run.”

“Yeah, well, if you’re capable enough to catch me, that shouldn’t be a big deal.” No reason to deny my intent.

“You shouldn’t run,” he groused. “My beast will like it.”

Malachi had mentioned a beast, too. I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth. “What breed is it? Your beast, I mean. Because we are talking about a dog or a cat, aren’t we?”

My captor stepped over a fallen log. “Did Deco hope your vulnerable maiden in distress act would garner my sympathies? Did he send you to ?rok to spy on me?”

“Me? Spy?” I forced a laugh, but the too-shrill notes made a mockery of my casual attitude. “Hardly. I don’t even know who this Deco guy is. Or you!” And ?rok? Never heard of it. “I just want to go home to my business, before I lose the loyal customers who trust me to keep my appointments.”

Maybe someone would be concerned when I failed to open and call the police. Oh, please, please, please!

“I am King Viktor Endris, the decider of your fate. I suggest you tell me everything that led to your arrival in my land. Leave out no detail.”

Whoa. All pretense of good humor evaporated. He claimed to be the very person Malachi had sent me to corrupt. But was this Viktor guy also an immortal berserker sharing a body with the spirit of a turul? No. Of course not.

The two men must be working together to, what? Trick me? Produce some kind of blackmarket reality show? But why risk going to jail for a prank or skit?

I must be totally missing the mark. So what was this? What, what ?

Proceed with caution . “I’ve already told you everything I wish to tell you.” Yeah. Saving details for later was the smartest play. Curiosity wasn’t a bad thing.

“Your wishes have no bearing on this situation,” he snapped. “Talk. You won’t like what happens if you don’t.”

“Hey,” I barked, tapping his backside to ensure I snagged his full attention. A technique I used when a dog focused too intently on a trashcan, as if imagining an all-you-can-eat-buffet. But, um. Hmm. Viktor was packed tightly beneath his leathers, the muscles delightfully firm.

He missed his next step, but quickly righted. The jostle returned my thoughts to something that mattered. Our conversation.

Onward and upward! “I don’t know you, don’t trust you, and I’m not sure what you have planned for me. Plus, I’m stressed, hurt, starved, and hanging over your shoulder, Neanderthal style. I’m in no mood for snarly dudes with a Tarzan fetish. Gift me with a little grace and you’ll reap the rewards.”

He puffed up his chest. “I think I liked you better silent.”

“Same, caveman. Same. And please note, you were the one who rapid fired all the demands.” Why are you antagonizing him? Stop! “But I will take my own advice, gift you with some grace, and tell you a bit more of my story.” I’d dole a detail here and there, keeping him on my hook—for compensation. “First, you gotta put me down.”

A deeper growl rumbled in his chest.

Ugh. Did he verge on another eruption? Though he wasn’t really a berserker, I needed him to remain calm. Out of habit, only habit, I stroked his lower back the way I did for anxious dogs and cats, cooing, “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. ”

Wait. Hold up. Please tell me I did not call this terror of a man “baby.”

He stopped abruptly, going still. My breath caught.

“Hear me well, drágá.” With a huff, he hefted me off his shoulder and onto my feet. He glared down at me. “I am no one’s baby.”

I teetered, knees shockingly weak. The jerk let me fall, never even attempting to catch me. Impact proved jarring, rattling my brain. Probably the reason I couldn’t get over his use of ‘dear ’ or ‘precious’. I couldn’t recall which it was.

A scowl dominated my features as I sat there, glaring at him. “You’re no one’s baby, but you’re someone’s worst nightmare, guaranteed.”

“Walk,” he commanded, stepping over me and continuing on.

Argh! I popped up, dusted the dirt from my rump, and chased after him. My irritation was too sharp to fit into a mental bottle. “We need lessons in common courtesy, I see.”

“Yes, you do, but I don’t have time to tutor you.”

“That’s not–” Ow! Eek! Ow! Jagged rocks and razored briars lined the path, tormenting my poor, injured feet. Too bad Malachi had kidnapped me right after my shower while I was without socks and shoes. “I changed my mind. You can carry me,” I encouraged, lagging behind.

He kept walking. “You also need lessons in actions and consequences as well.”

“Hey!” I called. “I’m bleeding .”

For some reason, that did the trick. Despite his taunt, Viktor backtracked to clasp my waist and heft me off my feet. This time, he dangled me in the crook of his arm. “You are bothersome, that’s what you are.”

“Why don’t you get kidnapped, and we’ll see if you’re all sunshine and roses.” A branch scraped my arm, but I didn’t dare complain.

“Talk,” he repeated.

Guess I was done doling out the story in small measures. Considering I owed him, I had better share. “So, the guy who broke into my home claimed to be a king of griffins or something.” I didn’t have the mental capacity to weave an elaborate lie I might not remember. Besides, even if Malachi’s claims sprang from a well of truth, which they didn’t, I still needed Viktor’s aid. He wasn’t the one who’d abducted and relocated me. Therefore, he was the lesser of two evils. Perhaps he could even help me understand what was going on. “His name is Malachi Cromwell. He’s a former professional athlete and current movie star.”

“I know who he is. Continue,” Viktor added without evincing a single clue to his thoughts.

“Well, he must hate you, because he asked me to convince you to switch to Team Evil in exchange for paying off my debts. And just so you know, I’ve already refused to cash in.” I didn’t mention the other payouts. Viktor would hear the longing in my voice. How I desperately yearned to meet my sister and learn the identity of my birth parents. A question that had plagued me since discovering my adoption as a teen. But. I would never, under any circumstances, conspire with my kidnapper. I had standards.

“And? What happened when you refused?” Tension pulsed from Viktor as he tightened his arm around me. “Because the Malachi I know has killed countless others for far less.”

An exaggeration, surely. Or maybe he’d confused the actor’s onscreen actions with real life. “He knocked me out.” Although, I hadn’t actually gotten a chance to voice my refusal, had I? “Do you know anything about the prophecy he mentioned?”

Agonizing minutes passed in terse silence, the only sounds coming from Viktor’s footsteps as he stalked over brambles.

Fine. “Any comments, elaborations, or feedback about my revelation?”

Viktor began muttering under his breath again. Conversation over. Not the greatest start, but not the worst either. He wasn’t as feral as advertised, but he was definitely unhinged.

As soon as the gurgle of rushing water reached my ears, he dropped me and walked off, as if he’d forgotten he carried me. Or that I existed. I crashed into the ground, eating dirt, losing air.

Eyes narrowing, I spit out grains and scrambled to my feet. What the?—

Oh. I spun and took in my new surroundings. A rough-hewn shelter crafted from gnarled branches and leaves, blending seamlessly with the dense forest backdrop. A soot-blackened fire pit possessed a single flat rock seat, hinting at nights spent in raw, primal solitude. The atmosphere hung thick with pine and smoke from old fires. Whispers of the wind danced through the canopy of trees above our heads.

“How very…rustic chic,” I muttered, trying not to let my inner cringe make it to the outside. “Is this where you live? I bet the rent is fantastic. Kudos to your decorator. Brings open-concept to a whole new level. Who needs walls, amiright?”

Viktor prowled about, his volume increasing as he spoke to himself or to a voice in his head. “Is Malachi working with Deco? Why would he? But maybe. Why don’t I kill the first and imprison the latter, and then it won’t matter?”

“Wow. Is execution always your go-to remedy? I prefer to use my master KEY. Keep Educating Yourself.” I firmly believed there was a solution to every problem; I had only to find it. Ask questions. Read books. Meet new people. Repeat.

“The girl,” he continued. “Is she as clueless as she seems? Why send her specifically?” Pause. “Nem, nem.” Longer pause. “Nem! She’s everything I despise. Not the kind of female I desire at my side for any length of time. You are.”

My spine stiffened. How dare he. He didn’t even know me. “You aren’t exactly a prize yourself, mister.” Dang. Only a three on the burn scale of insults. I could do better. “You’re like a cloud. When you disappear, I have brighter days.” Not terrible.

Viktor pulled his hair, pounded his fists into his temples, and muttered, “Answer me! What if she’s lying? Or being used in a way she doesn’t understand?” More hair pulling. “Should I sacrifice her now instead of later?”

Sacrifice me? My fight reflex buzzed, rallying a thousand inner defenses.

Viktor whizzed to me before I could run, dust flying around us. With my chin tucked between his thumb and a knuckle, he forced my gaze to lock with his. “What are you hiding?”

Lots of things. Maybe if I ignored his question the way he ignored mine, he’d forget the whole sacrifice thing. “You’re giving me whiplash,” I grumbled.

“What. Are. You. Hiding.” A second voice joined his, and it was even more gravelly, turning his timbre into a nightmare of aggression. “How did you make the fog thin? ”

His confused expression, paired with that jagged, iron-edged tone, ignited something in me. Not fear, but swagger. I didn’t tamp it down as I’d always done with Benjamin. Heck, with everyone. No, I went with it, wrenching free of Viktor’s grip and stalking a slow circle around him, exactly as he’d done to me earlier. And I liked it. A sense of power dulled the constant sensation of being trapped in the wrong skin.

At roughly six-five, the man towered over me. He also owned muscles galore and rocked lightning-fast reflexes. But he let me do this without complaint.

“Listen and listen well. I don’t know a thing about any fog.” I stopped in front of him and jutted my chin. “If you’re working together with Malachi to trick me into believing berserkers are real, you’re going to fail. Let me go.”

“Nem. But allow me to assure you, drága.” Viktor lowered his head. Rings of neon gold flashed in his eyes, and veins of black flickered directly under his skin, forking like lightning. “Berserkers are very real, and we do not appreciate being challenged.”

In a split second, his body seemed to double in size. His facial features sharpened, and his teeth elongated. A prickle of unfamiliar, icy fear raced through my veins. Malachi had told the truth. Berserkers were real, and Viktor might be entering into a rage right this second.

Moisture flooded my mouth, but I couldn’t swallow. Years of absorbing my mother’s stories paid off, certain details dominating my thoughts. The dos and don’ts of keeping a rage machine calm.

Do not provoke.

Do not stare.

Never, ever run .

However possible, soothe the beast and get the heck out of Dodge.

“Good boy,” I rasped, reaching out to pet Viktor’s chest awkwardly. Oh, wow. Amazing how hard muscles could feel so soft, covered by such smooth skin. What I couldn’t do? Look away.

He glanced at my fingers, then my face, then my fingers, then my face, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

I couldn’t either! Had I really just admired him? Pet him? I snatched back my hand. To my surprise, he didn’t issue a rebuke, but calmed. Seconds bled together, his breathing evening out. Good, that was good. He “shrank” to his regular massive size, his features projecting confusion rather than anger. The golden rings faded from his irises, and his pearly whites returned to normal.

Thank goodness. Danger averted. Except, I must be in the middle of an adrenaline crash. A cold sweat chilled my skin, and my teeth chattered.

“We should take a time-out.” I needed to sit and work on drawing in a deep, calming breath. Needed to think. Organize the thousands of queries swirling inside my head and forcibly bottle my emotions.

But mmm, what was that amazing smell? I darted my gaze and noticed a picnic setup at the edge of his camp, beyond a fallen log, with food spread out over a blanket. A feast fit for a king. My bottomless stomach rumbled.

“Or a meal break,” I suggested with hope.

“Eat,” my companion snapped. “My men will be grateful someone has finally enjoyed their efforts.”

Don’t mind if I do. I shuffled over and settled at the edge of the blanket, where I filled the only waiting plate with fresh fruit, slices of rustic rye bread, smoked cheeses and meat crepes topped with paprika sauce. “So you have men.” Good to know. “Where are they?” I’d seen no evidence of others.

“They aren’t here.”

I rolled my eyes and popped a crepe into my mouth. Oh wow! The delicious blend of flavors exploded on my tongue. After I swallowed, I said, “Well, they know how to feed a girl right, that’s for sure.”

One of those little snarls left Viktor. He stomped over, plopped onto the other side of the blanket, and reached over to snatch a grape from my plate. After giving another of those little huffs, he ate the green goodness. His brows drew together, and he snagged an entire sprig.

I shouldn’t notice the fluid precision of his movements. Nope, I shouldn’t. “So. Who’s Deco?” Might as well learn the players in this…game? War? “You keep mentioning him, but you’ve never explained.”

Viktor pursed his mouth. “Deco is king of the turul-shifters. My enemy. I hate him with every fiber of my being.” His shoulders rolled in. “But I love him, too. We were friends once.” He froze with another bite halfway to his lips, as if he couldn’t comprehend what he’d just admitted.

Compassion unfurled deep in my chest. “Perhaps he feels the same about you. Torn.”

Viktor straightened with a jolt, then glided his tongue over those straight, white teeth. “Do not speak of matters you don’t comprehend, and do not mention Deco again unless you wish to lose your head. And do not ask my men about my association with him. If they tell you anything, they will die screaming.” He offered the words with great ease, then ate more grapes, all casual-like. “Understand?”

“Yes.” Message received. Truly. I even held up my palms in a gesture of innocence. But, um, what did his men know that Viktor didn’t want me learning? And why did it matter? “Can we talk about berserkers in general? I only just found out they–you–are real, and I have questions.” I reached for the only beverage currently available: a bottle with Brennivin emblazoned on the label and the words The Black Death printed below it. Considering there were no other options… Down the hatch.

Yikes! Awful idea. Just terrible. Lava in a glass. The burn! Far worse than my grandma’s vodka. I sputtered and coughed as fire scorched my throat.

Seconds later, warmth spread through me. Mmm. Very nice. I even poured a little alcohol over the cut on my palm, thinking to clean it. “Ow, ow, ow!” I blew on the gash.

“You may eat in silence.” Viktor snatched the bottle from my hand and drained the contents. He made a ‘not bad’ face, and dang it, it was kind of enchanting. Not exactly an appropriate term for a berserker. “I’m busy deciding your fate. I’ve been told you serve a purpose. For now.”

I forgot my pain and how to breathe but not how to eat. I shoveled in another bite. “Told by whom? And any interest in soliciting advice from an outside party before you render your final verdict?” Okay, so, maybe crumbs fell from the corners of my mouth as I spoke.

“I should interrogate you,” he said, still so casual-like. “I’ve found doing so with knives usually elicits the best results.”

The Brennivin whispered, He’s only teasing . I chuckled. “You’re hilarious.”

He narrowed his eyes. “The greater good matters, but you are clearly bait meant to lure me into some sort of trap. You invaded my private land without permission. And your hair.” He waved in my direction. “It’s too soft. ”

“I’ll have you know I paid good money for this blowout.” I spoke between inhaling bites, just in case he decided I’d had enough. “But what do my gorgeous polished mahogany tresses have to do with anything?” Man, this food was tasty! So much better than the cheap cheese and stale crackers I’d never gotten to eat after working twelve hours straight and defending my very life from two immortal kings. “And what do you mean, the greater good? Be specific. Please! Someone should tell me something .”

“But,” he added, ignoring my questions and request yet again.

I waited for him to say more, still eating. He didn’t. “But you’re going a different route?” I asked, hopeful. Again, crumbs might have fallen from my mouth. “You’ve realized I’m an innocent bystander thrust into a terrible situation through no fault of my own?”

“But. The fog in my head continues to thin, and I’m thinking more clearly than I have in years.”

If this was clear-thinking for him, I shuddered to imagine his mud-caked musings. Oh! Was that some kind of chicken and rice dish hidden behind the ball of honey glazed goat cheese?

He rose to his feet with eerie grace. “For the time being, I can use you to my advantage.”

I spooned in a bite. Yep. Chicken and rice with a hardy cheese sauce. “How so?”

“Does it really matter?” He offered me a parody of a smile. “I’m keeping you.”