Page 9 of The Stolen Bride (Kings of Fury #2)

Chapter

Nine

Poison-Proof Your Relationship: Romance Detox Tips

–HOW TO TRAIN YOUR BERSERKER

By Elizabeth “Elle” Darcy-Bruce

O ne.

My heart thudded. I held my breath, anticipating the attack. I didn’t have long to wait. The shifters raced up while we raced down, the berserkers doubling in size while maintaining a tight circle around me.

A shadow swept over our group, and I jerked my gaze skyward. Another flock!

Like the others, they had transformed into half man, half bird of prey hybrids. Their noses and mouths had grown out, creating the world’s ugliest beaks. Jet black feathers rimmed with gold covered their wings and clustered in patches along their arms, chests, and legs. Talons tipped their fingers and toes.

I shuddered at the grotesque sight. Monsters!

The berserkers around me hadn’t yet noticed the coming aerial assault. They still faced straight ahead, soon to collide with the foot-soldiers. A scream of warning barreled across my tongue, but it was too late. The flyers descended en masse.

With a gasp, I ducked. The bird-men never crashed into us. Oooh! The soldiers had noticed their approach, after all, and paused to reposition at the last second, jerking their weapons high in the air, ensuring the first line drove themselves through the blades.

Howls of pain pierced the air. Blood sprayed. The starting bell. The foot soldiers reached the fray, and brutal combat erupted. Ten berserkers against ninety shifters. Swords swung. Wings and talons swiped. Feathers rained over the snow-packed, crimson speckled ground.

Viktor remained at my side, but he was in no way stationary. He moved around my statue-still form with astonishing speed, attacking his foes and blocking their strikes with equal fervor. His masterful skill astounded me. Not one enemy blow resulted in my harm, even though I seemed to be the target of every shifter. They challenged the king in clusters, attempting to reach me.

My stomach roiled, but not with fear. As the savagery of battle intensified, anger sparked, burning inside cracking bottles. Suddenly, the daggers I held felt like extensions of my hands. How dare Deco and his army do this? I was so close to saving my sister; I refused to stop now.

Determined and yes, vengeful, I swung at a turul-shifter above us. Viktor decapitated him before I ever made contact. The king wasted no time ripping the heart from the headless body. Golden lights like those in his eyes streaked through the organ, fading, then dying.

“Get down and stay down,” he growled at me. “Close your eyes if you must. ”

“I’m not some damsel in distress,” I growled back. The death didn’t faze me. Maybe because the creature had attacked us first. Good riddance!

I ran through the moves I’d learned in self-defense class. Use my body as an armory. Elbow, heel, fist, and head. All weapons. Ready, I scanned for my first victim. Him! He looked like he desired a one-on-one tangle.

The eager beaver dodged berserkers and brethren alike, his red-eyes locked on me.

At the half way point, he leaped, tucking his wings against his sides to increase his momentum, becoming a living missile. His feathers shimmered in the weak, wintery sun. I raised my daggers, anticipating impact...

Viktor cut off his head mid-air, then ripped out his heart. Plop, plop. “The day I need your help, Lovie, is the day I deserve to die in battle.”

I almost stomped my foot. “I deserved that kill.” Yes, it was something I’d never in a million years thought I’d say. But then, why would I ever imagine myself caught in such a situation? Still, I couldn’t deny Viktor’s utter power as he defended us. A mesmerizing sight to behold. Other women might find him incredibly frightening, but I reveled. So sexy! And irritating.

I readied to attack another shifter– Grr. Viktor struck him first. I huffed with frustration. He’d predicted I would lose my temper, and now I knew why. Because of him! And rightly so!

At least the enemy army dwindled as other berserkers removed shifter heads and hearts, too. According to my mother, it was the only way to truly kill an immortal.

Grunts of exertion blended with growls of fury and hisses of pain. Though tensions and aggression surged, none of the warriors had broken into a berserkerage—yet. I had wondered if they’d partaken of the herb Viktor mentioned, and now I knew. They had. The well-trained soldiers remained cold, Bodi most of all, working in tandem and adjusting their formation as needed.

Argh! A new flock of turul-shifters arrived. Violence escalated as these soldiers proved stronger than the others, managing to injure some of the berserkers.

My gaze collided with that of a particularly big shifter. Another scout? He perched on a branch just outside the raging battle. White hair slapped his inhuman face. His blood-red eyes fit well with a gleeful smile.

With a crook of my finger, I motioned him over. “If you dare.”

He merely offered a parody of a smile, staying put.

Out of nowhere, Bodi bellowed a raw and primal sound. Everyone’s attention swung to him, even mine. My eyes widened as I took in the devastating scene. One of Viktor’s men lay sprawled on the ground, a turul-shifter nearby, cackling as he held a glowing heart in his hand.

No, no, no. The fallen was the young soldier with the mischievous grin who’d offered me the best cuisine the forest had to offer.

Each berserker, including Viktor, rushed his way, but it was too late. The turul-shifter raked his claws through the organ, and the glow vanished, snuffed out. My own heart ached.

Our young comrade’s attacker died a nanosecond later. It was then the squad of berserkers began to break with rage, despite consuming the herb. They threw back their heads and spread their arms, roaring into the wintery chill. Their bodies seemed to double again, clothing tearing. Black lines forked across their limbs, and glowing golden rings filled their irises. Razor-sharp talons grew from their fingertips.

Only Viktor seemed unaffected as he fended off attacking shifters.

The metallic scent of blood permeated the air. Cries of rage and pain replaced the grunts and groans. Forget battle. I stumbled backward, ready to run. I could calm Viktor, maybe, hopefully, but not all of his men. And not while Viktor remained preoccupied. Only, I rammed into an obstacle. Or rather, a shifter. He snaked his arms around me, anchoring my body in place while resting the tips of his claws against my throat.

“Thank you for the invite,” he squawked in my ear.

I clued in on his identity: the guy from the tree. Every thought in my brain erased but one: get free! But as I grappled against his hold, he choked me, stealing my breath.

While Viktor’s bigger, badder and meaner-than-before army challenged the remaining turul-shifters, my captor called, “Deco sends his regards, Viktor. By the way, my claws are tipped with vargbane root.” He tapped said claws against my throat, threatening to breach my skin.

I gulped. What did vargbane root do?

The king’s head shot up as he slammed a booted foot into the face of a limp shifter. Something dangerous glowed in his eyes when he clocked my predicament. One of his arms remained raised in mid-air, ready to descend and remove his foe’s heart.

His glowing gaze narrowed on my captor. “Deco wouldn’t play with such a substance, even to hurt me.”

“Oh, but he would. As would I.” Again, the turul-shifter tapped his nails against the column of my throat.

I didn’t take time to ponder the pros and cons of my next action; I simply acted, reaching back to slam one of my daggers into my captor’s thigh and the other into his face. His body jerked against mine, his clawtips cutting me. A surge of adrenaline dulled a flare of searing pain.

Then Viktor was there, freeing me and ending the turul-shifter with swipes of his claws. Pushed past his control, the king kept swiping. Slash, slash, slash. The gruesome sight…

At the same time, his warriors finished off the remaining shifters, who died laughing with delight, as if they knew something we didn’t.

But, um, my neck. Each puncture burned hotter and hotter. I rubbed at the wounds, anger and affront draining from me. No longer did the violence leave me unmoved.

Sickness churned in my stomach as I gazed at Viktor, his men, and the blood-soaked battlefield.

Viktor straightened and, glimpsing my horror, pounded his crimson covered fists into his temples, muttering, “Find, destroy, happy. Find, destroy, happy.”

I watched in alarm as he slashed at his clothes, his arms, and his legs. Oh, no. If anything, he was worse than when I’d first met him.

“Viktor,” I croaked. “Stop.”

He didn’t stop.

His men did nothing to help him but turned toward me. Bodi looked as if he would like nothing more than to give me the turul treatment and shred my internal organs.

“Yo, Tor,” I called, lumbering closer. “Vik. Calm down, and I’ll play a fourth song for you.”

“Why should he calm down? He’s going to lose you and become a shifter, and you’re responsible for it,” Bodi said, his tone chilling. He bit the blade of his bloodied sword. Another soldier plucked out the shifter claws embedded in his chest, which were attached to a severed hand, and tossed the appendage aside. Both stepped toward me, their intent clear. Punish the interloper. The others looked unsure.

The pair took another step closer. And another. A third joined them and trepidation skittered over me. Despite the agony of movement, I hurled myself against Viktor. The prince was wrong. He wasn’t losing me or becoming a shifter. I just needed him to calm!

Contact snapped him out of his fog. He gathered me close with a single arm, throwing back his head, and releasing a wild, otherworldly whistle. His men immediately stilled.

The burn in my neck reached an almost unbearable degree. Beads of sweat popped up over my brow. “Um. Quick question. What’s vargbane root?”

A barbaric sound burst from Viktor. “The vargbane root.” Anxiety-tinged fury twisted his features as he clasped my chin and angled my head, giving himself a better view of my injuries. Whatever he saw caused the anxiety to spike.

Tremors invaded my limbs. “What? Tell me.”

“Won’t let you die.” He swooped down, setting his lips around a puncture and sucking, then spitting. An action he repeated, as if I’d been bitten by a snake and he sought to remove venom.

His men rushed over, encircling us. Exactly as they’d done when we’d first entered this land.

“Majesty,” Bodi rasped, shock and alarm dripping from the title. “You should not do this. You must stop.”

But he didn’t stop. Not until the last of that sizzling heat cooled in my veins. As he lifted his head, my knees knocked, weakened by relief. Until I realized blood filled the whites of his eyes.

“Viktor?” I breathed.

Releasing me, he stumbled backward and crumbled to the ground. He landed atop a slain turul-shifter. Fresh horror besieged me, and I pressed a hand over my mouth. Reason crested only a split second later. I rushed to him. Or attempted to. His men formed a blockade. To make a bad situation worse, Bodi grabbed me, imprisoning my arm in an iron clasp.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” the second-in-command demanded.

“I didn’t do anything!” I burst out.

“You let yourself be drugged.”

“Let myself? You saw the guy with his claws against my neck, right?” I sputtered for a moment. “What’s vargbane root?” I repeated.

“An ancient poison able to trap an immortal inside his own mind, keep him asleep, dreaming, and projecting his thoughts for anyone to see while he slowly wastes away, suffering in silence. There’s no antidote. No cure. The more powerful the immortal, the faster the toxin works. That is the reason we avoid using it against our enemies, despite its effectiveness. Now, Viktor is as good as dead.” Accusation laced his harsh tone.

The blood whooshed from my head, my ears ringing. Why, why, why had Viktor endangered his own life to save mine? That…he…I fought Bodi’s hold. “Let me see him.”

“Never again. Be thankful you’re still alive.” To the men, he called, “Carry him beyond the battlefield. There should be a hidden camp.”

I could do nothing but watch as the warriors lifted him and carted him from my midst. Along the way, they cast me final menacing glances.

A barbed lump grew in my throat. This was it for me, wasn’t it? “You’re going to end my life.” A statement, not a question.

“Ja. But only after we end his.” Bodi dragged me to a nearby tree, and I didn’t fight. “We won’t leave our beloved king in such a state.”

Shock held me immobile. Viktor. Dying. Killed. Gone forever. The last remaining original. The guy who’d saved me from shifters. Who’d agreed to help me rescue my sister. Who’d calmed for me.

I’d known him only a short time, yet an almost unbearable sadness weighed down my heart.

Bodi yanked a thin silver bracelet from his wrist. The prince shook the metal, its links expanding, somehow pliable and yet strong enough to interlock–to cuff my hands together and bind me to the tree trunk. Out of spite alone, he stole the coat Viktor had secured around my shoulders.

“Why not kill me now?” I grated, tugging at my bonds. Intractable. No slack.

The prince met my gaze. “The amount of suffering he endures will decide the amount of suffering you endure.”

With the vow hanging in the air, he stalked off.

I bit my lip. Here I was, alone, mere feet away from the field of death. If turul-shifters returned, I’d be a sitting duck.

I laughed without humor. Of course, I was already dead, wasn’t I?