Surrendered to the Berserkers by Lee Savino

Chapter 5

Rosalind

The forest welcomedme on my newfound quest. I had no dagger to guide me, but my steps were certain. I knew I was headed towards the Corpse King. The growing sense of dread in my breast was a sure sign.

At least there were no draugr in my way anymore. There would be more ahead, but I could not think about that. I could only take one step at a time.

I shook my head as I reviewed the past day and night’s events.

We will send help, the witches had told me. They’d sent Loki. The Alphas sent Ragnar. And I was caught in the middle.

I was still on the quest, but I had no dagger and no moonstone.

The moonstone is the weapon. It is the source of power and can be used to bind him.

And Ragnar had thrown it away. I needed it back, but what hope did I have of finding it?

“The witches said they’d send help,” I grumbled to the oak trees. “They also told me once I found it, I should not allow myself to be separated from it.”

I halted in my steps, tearing at my hair. My braid had long ago come undone. I was hungry, dirty, and tired. Not to mention, I smelled like draugr.

I had no moonstone, no help, and no hope.

Why should I even go on?

“I give up,” I announced to the sky peeping through the leafy canopy. I should return to Ragnar and let him take me to Berserker mountain. Cower there with the rest of the spaewives until the Corpse King came to destroy us all.

“But where’s the fun in that?” someone drawled behind me. I yelped and whirled around.

Loki stood in the shadow of a great oak, grinning at me. He was dressed in black, from the top of his dark head to the tips of his boots. No cloak this time. I did not ask where he got his clothes from.

He spread his hands in greeting. “Happy to see me?”

I shook my head and turned my back on him to hide the part of me that was a little relieved.

He fell into step beside me, matching his long stride to mine.

“Where are we going?” he asked after a few minutes.

I said nothing and kept walking back the way I’d come: the opposite direction of the Corpse King’s lair. Each step lifted a little of the dread.

“So silent? Ragnar said you would not stop talking.”

Ragnar. I stopped short. “Where is Ragnar?”

“Back there.” The warrior waved a careless hand.

“You left him?”

“Of course,” he said. “I was rescuing you.”

I swallowed the image of Ragnar on the ground in a blossoming pool of his own blood. “Is he… Did it…”

Loki waited patiently for me to form my question. His eyes really were two different colors, though the brown one looked more normal, no longer an eerie black.

“Did you kill him?” I finally asked.

“Did you care for him? I was under the impression he had taken you against your will.”

I blushed. “He did,” I said slowly.

Loki cocked his head, squinting at me—not passing judgment, but as if he could see what I was thinking. “He'll be all right,” he said finally. “You don't need to worry about him.”

“I wasn't worried,” I snapped before I could stop the lie.

“Whatever you say, my lady. But now it seems I must kidnap you, for you are going the wrong way.” He pointed east. “That is the way your quest lies.”

“I cannot continue,” I said. “There's nothing more for me to do.” I would not return to Ragnar or Berserker Mountain. I would go far away, where neither Berserkers nor witches could find me. I would find my own way. If I traveled long enough, far enough, fast enough, perhaps I could find a land where the Corpse King did not exist.

But I would never escape the guilt.

You have a choice, the witches had told me, but I didn’t really. Even though I hated the world and everyone in it, how could I let it burn?

“Did you lose your way?” Loki asked.

I rubbed my forehead. “It’s no matter. I lost the moonstone and the dagger. My quest is for naught.”

“Ah, then you might be interested in what I discovered lying in the mud.”

He pulled out the dagger with its thin blade. The moonstone glittered in the hilt.

Just like that, what I needed was there in his hand.

I reached for it and he pulled it away. From his weapon belt, he tugged out two more daggers—small and silver like the moonstone one— from their sheaths, and started to juggle them.

I watched with my hands fisted at my sides. He was too tall, his reach too long, for me to grab the moonstone dagger.

“I found what you need. What will you give me for it?”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “My undying gratitude.”

Loki plucked each dagger from the air, one by one, and sheathed them again. The one with the moonstone was the last. He dangled it high above my head. “How about a kiss?”

I pressed my lips together.

His grin turned sly. “Have you ever enjoyed a kiss?”

I looked away, remembering Ragnar’s body pressing me into the leaves, the heat and weight of him as the beast.

“A shame that you had no enjoyment of this life before you take leave of it,” Loki murmured.

I stiffened. “So I’m going to die?”

“You act like you are.” He threw himself down on the thick carpet of leaves, leaning against a moss-covered log. “I will give you the dagger, but I wish a boon.”

“What is it you wish?”

“I wish to kiss you. Whenever I want, as many times as I want.” There was a twinkle in his right eye—the green one. The dark one opposite merely unsettled me.

Still, he was handsome as a fallen angel. He sprawled on the forest floor, looking as regal as a prince reclining on furs. Even after the dusty battle, his clothes were pristine.

Something in me ached to go to him. I pushed the feeling away. “No.”

He tossed the dagger in the air. It turned end over end. He plucked it out of the air, pulled it close to kiss the pommel stone, and tossed it up again.

My toe twitched in my boot. A few steps and I could plant my foot in his gut, but then what? I needed to get that dagger back. “I will kiss you. Once.”

Loki caught the dagger, closing his palm around the blade. I winced on his behalf, but when he opened his hand, his palm was unscathed.

“You will kiss me? Willingly?” His odd eyes glittered.

“Yes.” I crossed my arms over my bodice. “I’ve never kissed a man willingly. You will be the first.”

“I’m flattered. Are you sure you’re willing?”

“Yes.”

“All right then.” He rolled to his feet in one smooth movement, and continued stretching up while his hands drew up his jerkin. He tossed it away, giving me a close view of his perfect chest. The last time I saw him, he was naked and smeared with mud. Now his skin was clean and free of any tattoos.

Perhaps I had imagined them.

“Like what you see?” Loki winked at me. His hands were busy undoing his belt, the one that held his sheathed weapons.

I held up a hand to stop him. “What are you doing?”

“Removing my clothes.” He slid the belt off and tossed it and his weapons onto the fallen jerkin. “You said you would kiss me; you didn’t say where.”

To forestall any more conversation, I leaned in, planted a hand on his chest and, trying to ignore the firm and smooth muscles under my palm and his wintergreen scent, popped up to my tiptoes and pecked Loki’s cheek.

I backed away to face his baleful expression.

“Ah, a sisterly kiss,” he said flatly. “Well done. I’ve kissed my enemies with more enthusiasm.”

I rolled my eyes. “You did not specify enthusiasm. Only that I'd kiss you willingly.”

“Yes, I suppose you did it willingly. Here then, a deal’s a deal.” He flicked his wrist and tossed the dagger to the ground at my feet. I kept my eyes on him as I picked it up, expecting a trick. Loki swiped his jerkin and belt off the ground and redressed himself.

I sat down on the log, turning the dagger over in my lap. There was no flash of blue light. The dagger looked ordinary without the precious stone.

Loki had tricked me. He’d given me the dagger but not the moonstone.

“What have you done?”

His cheeks curved slowly. He showed me his empty hand, then turned it over and the stone appeared briefly between each finger before he flicked it into the air.

“I need that.” I clenched my jaw before I begged for it.

“New bargain.” Loki kept tossing the stone. “This time, I kiss you.”

Would this never end? I held up a finger. “You may give me a kiss in exchange for it. Once.”

“Very well.” He seated himself smoothly on the log beside me.

I offered him my cheek. He leaned in, and pretended to overbalance and fall in my lap.

“No.” I pushed him, but he pulled me off the log and onto my back, where he pinned me and started drawing up my skirts.

“What are you doing?”

“We bargained for a kiss. I forgot to specify where you could kiss me,” he paused, “but so did you. So I may kiss you where I please.”

He inched up my skirt. My breath caught. My heartbeat ricocheted in my chest.

My fists gripped the folds of my skirt, whether to pull it up or push it down, I did not know.

Loki slid my skirts up higher, all laughing looks gone now. His face was somber as a priest in church as he exposed my legs. Underneath my heavier dress, I was clad only in a light shift. He slipped his hand under this, too, clasping my bare leg. His cool, wintergreen scent blew over me.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. His touch was light as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. My bodice became too tight for my breath.

He took an ankle and stroked it, studying the binding Ragnar had given me. “He cared for you then?”

“He did.”

Light fingers traced up my legs, tickling the soft golden down lining my calves. Loki’s hand ventured higher to cup my knee. The joint was strangely ticklish. I wriggled, and Loki smiled. “I would kiss here. But there is a more sacred place.”

“Where?” I asked, because I could not take my eyes from his.

“Here.” He cupped between my legs. My cunny pulsed against his palm, throbbing like a second heartbeat. “May I kiss you here, Rosalind?”

I wanted nothing more than for him to kiss me. “A deal’s a deal,” I whispered back.

“One kiss? Will it be enough?”

I swallowed. Sweat sheened my skin, all over.

He chuckled. “Not yet. Another time.” He flipped down the hem of my gown, covering my body, leaving my cunny bereft.

He planted a hand by my hip and leaned in to kiss my mouth. His wintergreen scent washed over me—his magic as pungent as mint, and as intoxicating as mead.

Before our lips touched, I struck his shoulder. He was bigger, stronger, but I caught him off guard and he tipped back enough for me to scramble to my feet.

My chest heaved, rage and arousal surging, washing back into each other until I would burst with emotion. My cheeks burned.

Loki came to his feet, laughing, and I struck him again. “Curse you,” I gritted out. “Leave me alone.”

I spun around and strode from him, tears blurring my way. My cunny throbbed. Damn my body for betraying me.

Damn him. Damn the moonstone and the dagger.

I wanted him to touch me. I was bare and open to him, and he rejected me?

If I could kill him, I would.

“Rosalind.” He caught up with me, but his speech still lilted with laughter. “Odin’s beard, slow down.”

“No.” I changed directions, blundering into a briar bush in my haste to get away. Thorns tore at my skirts and I ripped at them, thrashing as the briars caught my arms and hair.

“Stop,” Loki ordered. “You’ll hurt yourself.” He stepped in and freed me, his long fingers picking away the thorns and smoothing the skin, checking for blood.

“Get away from me.” I ducked away. How was I going to escape him?

I didn’t need to worry. A loud battle cry rang through the woods.

Loki half turned. A giant shape blurred out of the forest, hit Loki with full force, and bore him to the ground. The ground shook from the impact, and a boulder flew out of the way.

I backed deeper into the thicket. When it came to two Berserkers fighting, it was wise to cower well out of the way.

Somehow, Loki wrestled himself free. Ragnar bellowed as his opponent escaped.

“Loki! Come back here and fight.”

“Again?” Loki danced backwards, pulling leaves from his hair. “Don’t you tire of me beating you?”

“You cheated,” Ragnar snarled.

Loki held out his arms. His brown eye was raven black again. “I am a trickster.”

Ragnar held out a cautioning hand in my direction. “Rosalind, step away. He is mad. He thinks he is a god.” Ragnar planted himself between me and the dark-haired warrior, and gripped his axe. “But he bleeds like a man.”

“Like a Berserker.” Loki buffed his fingernails against his fine jerkin, looking bored. “You’re upsetting our runaway. Let’s put down our weapons and settle this fairly.”

“You do not fight fairly.”

“Fine. You keep your weapon. But I shall set aside mine.” He dropped his belt, the one that sheathed his many-sized daggers. Almost as an afterthought, he tossed the moonstone to me. I caught it, grasping it tight though it buzzed against my palm. The blue light glowed between my fingers.

I ducked behind a tree to check if I really held the stone in my palm. The buzzing was real. The light was real. Loki had actually helped me.

This time.

“Leave us, Berserker,” Loki was commanding Ragnar. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“I will kill you and leave your body to feed the ravens,” Ragnar growled. “Rosalind is mine.”

“If you won’t listen, I’ll pound it into your thick skull.”

I slipped the stone and the dagger into my pouch.

Enough. I had the moonstone, I had the dagger. Loki would keep Ragnar from following me. With any luck, Ragnar would keep Loki from me too.

A roar signaled that Ragnar had lost his patience with Loki’s baiting and attacked again. A boom and a great oak tree rocked from the impact. Leaves rained down.

I peeked around a laurel bush. Loki and Ragnar were locked in a struggle, both standing, their boots digging furrows into the leafy ground as they gripped each other in an almost brotherly embrace. Ragnar’s face was red with exertion. Loki looked bored, but his boots were slowly slipping backwards.

This was my chance. I gripped my cloak tight to keep it from snagging on more briars, and edged further away from the warriors.

“Rosalind!” Ragnar’s call made me pause. But I could not stay for him. There was no logical reason why I’d even want to.

“A kiss!” Loki cried with manic cheer. He stopped pushing, letting Ragnar fall forward into him. Loki hauled the blond Berserker up and gripped both sides of his face.

“What?” Ragnar grunted in horror, his blue eyes widening as Loki’s lips descended on his.

I didn’t wait to see how passionately Loki kissed another. Clapping my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh, I ducked behind the laurels again. Another roar shook the woods behind me as I ran away.

* * *

Ragnar

“You fool,”I shouted at Loki for the fiftieth time. I would deny he was a Berserker if I didn’t remember him from the pack. My memory wasn't what it once was but I seemed to remember a warrior with one eye brown and one eye green. He may have been strange, but he'd never committed treason like this. When I reported him to the Alphas, they’d tear him apart.

But I planned to cut him to pieces first.

I scrubbed at my lips to destroy the feeling of Loki’s touch. “Why would you kiss me?”

“Don’t say you didn’t enjoy it.” Loki pursed his lips.

The world turned red. I attacked, and he threw himself out of the way, diving into a somersault and rolling to bounce to his feet.

“I will kill you,” I vowed.

“Not unless I kill you first,” he pointed out. “Come and get me,” he singsonged, dancing around me.

I raised my axe above my head. A showy move. I attacked straight on, but at the last, I feinted, dropping my axe to cut across his middle.

Loki jerked back and my axe missed his midriff by a hair’s breadth.

“Stand still, you fool,” I bellowed.

“Like you did when I kissed you?” Loki winked.

I lunged and he danced backwards. “Shut up and fight!”

“And let you kill me?”

“At least you’d die like a man.”

"I can't die. Not yet,” he said. “The gods haven't willed it. I must fulfill my quest.” He put a hand over his heart and bowed. In the middle of a battle, he bowed.

“I will send you back to your makers. You will fail your quest.”

“I must not fail,” he said sadly. “If I die this time, it will be the final time. I must atone for my sins.” He bowed again. “But first, we must find our quarry. Do you know where our little runaway is?”

I stopped stalking him and straightened. “Rosalind?”

The glade was empty, but when I raised my head there was a hint of her scent on the breeze.

I cursed. “Thor's balls.”

“Are not as big as you would think,” Loki quipped.

“Will you shut up?” I growled, and marched off in the direction where Rosalind had gone. I must find her, and I would. There was no one else to keep her safe in these woods. None other than Loki, and I didn't trust him. “Quit talking like you're a god.”

“But I'm not a god,” Loki said. “Not anymore.”

I tugged my beard and rubbed my brow. Loki mimicked my movements, tugging on his chin because he had no beard. What sort of Berserker shaves his beard?

My head hurt. Was Loki the Berserker I remembered, always this crazy?

“You're addled in the head,” I grumbled.

“Better than being addled in the bed,” Loki singsonged again.

“Shut up, and run.”

I dodged around trees, trying to out-distance him. But no matter how fast I ran, Loki was at my elbow, his long dark hair flying in the wind as he cackled like a man gone mad.

* * *

Rosalind

The sun was settingwhen I realized I was walking in circles. I’d passed the same crop of boulders and birch grove twice.

I held the moonstone in my outstretched palm. In the past, it had lit the way, but now its surface remained dull. Was I closer to the Corpse King’s land or farther away?

Since I’d met with Ragnar, nothing had gone right. When I’d been with him, it seemed like the army of undead was herding us back towards the Corpse King. I could feel his presence growing closer in my head, but no clear guidance to help me go forward. Only a reluctance to move at all. The very ground seemed to suck at my boots.

I clutched at the dagger I’d rehung around my throat, and slumped against a tree. Why should I continue this quest? Loki had given back the moonstone and dagger, but what use was a dagger against a powerful mage?

The witches had said they would send me help, but so far, I’d been beset by two warriors: one mad, one determined to thwart my quest.

I picked a direction at random and started walking, only to halt when a shadow fell across my path.

Ragnar stepped from behind a tree. I hadn’t heard him approach. “Rosalind.”

I squawked and dashed away, but Loki was there to catch me.

“Once again, you're going the wrong way,” he murmured in my ear, and pushed me back into Ragnar's arms.

“Got you,” the blue-eyed warrior said.

“Let me go!” I pushed at Ragnar and he clamped his arms around me. I let my weight sag, then tried to kick between his legs.

“She’s fighting you,” Loki observed.

“Shut up and help,” Ragnar grunted. I couldn’t angle myself enough to kick between his legs, so I stomped on his feet until he lifted me clear off the ground.

“I prefer to watch.” Loki had seated himself against a log, lounging back with his fingers laced behind his head. “You can tire each other out, then I can grab her and be on my way.”

“You can try.” Ragnar wrestled me, holding my wrists lightly as I tried to gouge his eyes out.

“We cannot keep fighting over her,” Loki commented. “It makes no sense.”

“It is good that you see the truth of it,” Ragnar said. “So let me have her, and I will take her to the Alphas. Keep my way clear.”

“No, no,” Loki said. “The witches have a different plan. Rosalind is the key to defeating the Corpse King.”

Ragnar’s grip slackened and I got loose, dashing a few steps—only for Loki to catch me again.

“Be still, little runaway.” Loki held me fast with little effort.

Ragnar’s brow was creased. “She cannot defeat the Corpse King,” he spoke over my head to Loki. “The Corpse King is a mage of great power. What chance does a young woman stand against his evil?”

“Nevertheless, the witches have spoken.” Loki locked me against him, my back to his front, and nuzzled my cheek. I growled and tried to elbow him in the gut.

“The witches are as crazy as you are,” Ragnar said, his eyes flashing yellow. “I will rescue Rosalind, and I will not be denied.”

“I will go with neither of you,” I bellowed, and wrenched free. I backed away, looking wildly about for a way to escape. Both Berserkers stalked me, moving slowly, as if they had all the time in the world to catch me.

“We need to find a way to come to peaceful terms,” Loki said to Ragnar, keeping his eyes on me. “What do you say to a game of stones?”

“This is foolishness,” I muttered, and dived for the forest. Two hands grasped each of my arms and pulled me back. I cried out.

“We will wrench her apart at this rate,” Loki reasoned. “Let us tie her up and then we’ll decide what to do.”

That is how I found myself tied to a tree, bound upright, with ropes crossing over my chest. I leaned back against the bark, my hair in my face and my feet throbbing. I was so tired.

“Poor sweet thing,” Loki said, leaning on the tree trunk beside me, his face close to mine. “Let me help.” He stroked my blonde tangles back, combing out the leaves, rubbing his fingers over my scalp.

“Will you not untie me?” I asked tiredly. My head throbbed but Loki’s touch and his cool magic scent seemed to chase the tightness in my temples away.

“Not until we decide what to do with you,” Ragnar called from where he was building a fire.

“I promise not to run.”

“You made that promise before.” Ragnar stood, dusting off his hands. He leaned against the tree trunk on my opposite side. Two Berserkers, one dark, one fair, both at odds and united in purpose against me.

I sighed and let my head fall back. No use fighting.

Loki cocked his head to the side. “What if we untie her—but first make sure she’s too tired to run?”

Ragnar stroked his beard. “It might be possible.”

“There are many ways to wear her out,” Loki said. The two Berserkers turned their gaze on me, triggering a rush of heat between my legs.

I squeezed my thighs together, but it was no use. Hot liquid leaked down my legs. I blinked as the heavy pall of the Corpse King’s magic lifted, the fog lifting, dissipating, curling away like burning leaves. My headache was gone, replaced by the throbbing hunger in my lower belly.

Loki snapped his fingers. “That’s it. That is our contest.” He waggled his brows at Ragnar. “Whoever makes her climax first, wins.”

“Done,” Ragnar said, rising and heading towards me, an intent look on his face.

“Wait,” Loki and I called at the same time.

Ragnar halted at my side, looming over me. The heat and scent of him enveloped me. Pinned by the blue fire in his eyes, I quivered in my bonds.

“What?” Ragnar snapped at Loki, without looking away from me.

“You must make her climax but you cannot touch her,” Loki said.

“What?”

“You must make her climax but you cannot touch her flesh,” Loki repeated, coming to my side. “Your flesh must not touch hers. That is the challenge. Do you agree?”

Ragnar glowered at Loki as if he would attack any moment. The tension between the men on either side of me was too thick to breathe. “Yes,” Ragnar said finally.

“Truly?” I gasped. They would make me climax but they would not touch me? How would that be?

Then the men both looked me up and down, undressing me with their eyes. Their gaze left my legs weak. Had I not been bound, I would have fallen.

“Cut her free,” Loki said. “Leave her body unbound but tie her arms above her head.” Both warriors moved swiftly to make this happen.

They tied me up closer to the campfire, stringing me up with my arms stretched above my head. My wrists were bound and I was trussed from a long rope tied high to the branch. The rest of me was free to twist in the breeze. There was just enough rope to allow my weight to rest on my two feet.

“Comfortable?” Loki asked as he tested the rope above my head.

“Not really,” I grumbled, shifting from foot to foot.

“Soon, lovely,” he said, cuddling me against him for a moment and stroking my hair back. “Soon."

“No touching,” Ragnar growled. He hovered at my opposite side, the heat of him like a furnace baking that side of my body. The searing spice of his anger clashed with Loki's fresh, wintergreen scent.

“Right.” Loki stepped back. He braided his own hair back and dusted off his hands. “The contest begins now,” he announced.

“I'll go first,” Ragnar said. “Since you decided the nature of the challenge.”

“Of course.” Loki waved his hand and retreated to the campfire, where he crossed his arms and settled in to watch. I glared at him to show my displeasure, but he showed no contrition. Instead, he winked at me.

Ragnar bent closer to me, his expression determined. He circled me slowly. I fought the urge to twist around to keep him in my sights. My spine crawled as if my very flesh knew I was being hunted. He paced back in front of me and stood a few inches away. I felt his gaze on my face.

“You are beautiful,” he said.

“I know,” I whispered.

Ragnar ducked his head to mine. He was close—so close, his breath fanned my cheek. I closed my eyes. He inhaled deeply. A slight movement, and his stubble would brush my skin.

“No touching,” Loki called.

Ragnar’s answering growl rumbled deep in his chest, but he didn’t turn. He knelt before me and tipped his head close to my skirts, at the apex of my legs. He tilted his head and inhaled again. Scenting me. My cheeks grew warm.

Locking his blue eyes on mine, Ragnar grasped the edge of my gown and drew it upward. My pussy clenched as air hit my lower legs.

“No touching,” Loki insisted.

“You said we might not touch her flesh. You did not say we could not touch her clothes.”

“True.” Loki cocked his head as if considering this. “You follow the letter of the law, but not the spirit.” He broke into a grin. “Well done.”

Ragnar rolled his eyes. We shared a private smile before the kneeling warrior got back to tormenting me. Slowly, so slowly, he peeled up my skirts to reveal my white shift. The thin fabric was the only barrier between my flesh and his hot breath.

I shifted from leg to leg.

“Do you want me to hold her?” Loki’s voice came from behind. I don’t know when he’d moved from the fire, but he had.

“No,” Ragnar growled. “Do not touch her.”

“It would be over her clothes,” Loki said mildly, but he did not move closer, which was wise. At any minute, Ragnar might lose his grip on the beast, and attack.

“Don’t worry,” Loki said to me, as if he could read my thoughts. “You would survive.”

“You’re so sure?” I retorted, to hide my unease. This Loki was not what he seemed. “You might worry about your own hide.”

“You have concern for my hide?” Loki placed a hand on his heart in mock regard. “I’m touched.”

“Shut up,” Ragnar muttered, still kneeling before me, his head bowed close to my sex. “You are interrupting my turn.”

“So I am,” Loki said, but he didn’t move away.

“Ignore him,” Ragnar ordered me. Still kneeling before me, he turned his head this way and that, and his head was so close to my cunny, his rough beard caught the fabric of my shift and lifted it away. “Spread your legs.”

My lips parted but I didn’t argue. For some reason, I obeyed. My cunny throbbed in rhythm with my heartbeat. Nectar dripped from my sex, trickling down my inner thighs.

When Ragnar raised his head to me, his eyes were bright gold.

“So lovely,” he choked out. “So beautiful.” He drew up my shift and bared my sex. My thatch of blonde fur dripped with dew.

“Now that’s a sight.” Loki stalked back a little ways to admire it. Ragnar seemed transfixed before me. His fingers fumbled with the cloth in his hand. He held up my skirts with one hand as his opposite freed another leather strap, and he bound my dress high around my waist. With both hands free, he planted them on the ground and leaned in, scenting me once again. His beard almost brushed my leg…

“Ragnar,” I called. “Ragnar.”

He blinked up at me.

“If you touch my flesh, you lose,” I told him. At that moment, I did not want him to lose.

He gave a sharp nod. “No touching,” he agreed. “No touching.” His broad shoulders heaved as he sighed. A gust of his breath hit my sex, and my toes curled in my boots.

He scooted closer on his knees.

“Loki,” I called. “May I touch him?”

An evil grin slid across Loki’s face. “Hmmm, that is a question.” He pretended to ponder, tapping his chin. “No.”

“Not even by accident?” I persisted.

At my feet, Ragnar shuddered.

“Do you want him to lose this?” Loki huffed. “Very well, I’ll grant you one accident. Just one.”

Ragnar did not seem to hear. He leaned in, angling his head so his stubbled chin scraped the blonde tuft between my legs. My heartbeat boomed in my ears.

“Is he touching?” Loki asked me, and Ragnar answered.

“Just my beard. Not my flesh.”

“So close to cheating, but not quite.” Loki shook his head, but he was grinning. “Very well, I’ll allow it.”

Ragnar bobbed his head, fully wetting his beard. “Close?” he asked me.

I shuddered, gripping the bonds above my head. My body felt like a fish on a line, captured but not fully taken.

“Close,” Ragnar muttered to himself, answering his own question. “But not close enough.” He leaned back and slid a long knife from its sheath.

“Ragnar?” My voice trembled as he held the blade close to my cunny.

“Careful,” Loki warned.

And Ragnar was careful. He held the knife this way and that, shaving my sex clean of blonde hair. When he was done, goosebumps peppered my newly shorn skin. My cunny felt clean and nude, bared to the air.

This time, when he rubbed his slick beard against my sensitive flesh, sensation burst in my belly, I cried out, gripping the rope above my head to steady myself.

His lips brushed my flesh.

“A touch!” Loki crowed, though I didn’t know how he could see from across the campfire.

“It was me,” I panted. “An accident.” I let my head fall back. My body was a heavy weight, a pendulum—any movement might swing me over into the pleasure I craved. “You gave me one accident.”

“Let that be the only one.” Loki prowled closer, crouching near so he could catch any more slip ups.

Ragnar groped blindly about him. He found a new, green leaf and brought it to the folds of my sex. I held my breath as he drew it back and forth, tickling my sensitive spots. The sensation was agony, stimulating me without pushing me over the edge. My insides tightened, the coil of need ready to snap.

Minutes passed, and I twisted this way and that, trying to find relief. The leaf danced over my labia until its green surface shone slick.

“Do you admit defeat?” Loki asked finally.

“No,” Ragnar said. “No.” But he dropped the leaf and stood.

No…I wanted to howl.

Ragnar scrubbed a hand across his face. When he dropped his hand, his eyes flared bright, torches in the night. He stalked back and stood a little way away, his burly arms crossed over his chest. “But let’s see you do better.”

Loki slid to my side. “Rosalind,” he whispered. His wintergreen scent blew over me, cooling my skin, making me crave his heat. I whimpered. My sex pulsed, craving stimulation. My toes were scrunched in my boots.

He drew down my skirts, then cupped his hand over the fabric, his fingers molding to my cunny underneath. The touch was too much, and not enough. His fingers strummed my sex, the sensation muted by the thick fabric, but still enough to send a fresh wave of arousal through me. I rose to my tiptoes.

“Not fair,” I whispered.

“I don’t play fair.” He dipped his head close until his black hair tickled the rim of my ear.

He leaned back, winding a few locks of his hair into a tight braid. He licked the end of the braid and raised it to my ear, brushing his hair over the sensitive rim, then thrusting the braid inside.

I felt a rush in my sex. I gritted my teeth and fought against it.

“No, don’t fight, little runaway. Let yourself go over.”

I jerked in my bonds as an invisible brace caught my hips. A tongue-like sensation slid up my inner thigh, licking my lower folds.

What magic is this?I panted, too overcome to ask what was happening. Loki’s right eye gleamed green. The other was black as the night sky.

The unseen tongues kept lapping at me. One of them plunged inside.

“Oh,” I cried. My fingers dug into the rope, hanging on for dear life.

“Louder,” Loki ordered. The tongues at my sex licked harder.

My orgasm bloomed, shaking me in its grip. A cry escaped me before I could stop it.

Ragnar cursed.

“He cheated,” I gasped. I jerked in my bonds, but couldn’t escape the tickling sensation at my sex. I twisted to face Loki, whose mouth was spread in a wicked grin. “You cheated.”

“He didn’t touch you,” Ragnar said, baring his teeth. “I saw.”

I shook my head.

“A kiss.” Loki gripped my chin and laid his mouth over mine. “I claim my kiss.” His tongue thrust into my mouth.

Then his lips trailed down my neck.

My laces loosened and suddenly my dress and shift hung slack from my shoulders. One tug, and Loki had stripped the garments away. They fell in a pile at my feet. I hung naked, arms above my head. A sacrifice laid bare.

“Yes,” Loki said, his lips still locked on my skin, just over my right breast. My nipple prickled in the night air.

“My kiss,” he murmured against my skin. “Still the same kiss.” His lips never left my flesh as he dragged his mouth lower. His tongue probed my belly button, and my legs locked tight.

“The same kiss.” He wrenched my legs apart. I was panting now, my head bowed, my hair spilling over my shoulders. Loki propped one of my legs over his shoulder and planted his mouth at the apex of my sex. I threw my head back, my cries rising like a wolf’s howl.

Loki gripped my thighs, keeping his mouth fastened on my cunny, thrusting his tongue inside and drinking my juices like mead.

The sensation of tongues over my flesh increased, and I screamed my climax to the moon. The sensation didn’t stop. My climaxes rolled over me again and again, until tears ran down my face. I was lost in a roiling ocean, tossed about by the waves of pleasure. I twisted my wrists in my bonds until drops of liquid fell on my face—sweat or blood, I did not know.

“Rosalind, Rosalind,” Ragnar murmured. His large hands stroked my naked back, grounding me. “Easy.” He steadied me, cutting the rope above my head and catching me when I would have crumpled to the ground. Gently he bore me down, cradling me in his lap. His thumb rubbed my lax lower lip.

Loki kept his mouth on my sex, lying down with me until he was stretched out between my legs. I was limp in Ragnar’s arms.

Only after a final, weak climax did Loki rise up, licking his lips, looking like a cat who’d feasted on cream.

“There,” he said smugly to Ragnar. “Now she’s too sleepy to run.” He rubbed his mouth and tasted his fingers. My body convulsed in pleasure yet again.

I turned my face away. My body still trembled with aftershocks. My core felt raw.

Loki frowned and squatted close to me. His hand closed around my ankle.

“No!” I jerked in his hold, trying to kick free.

“Hush,” he soothed. “It’s all right. It’s over.”

“What is wrong?” Ragnar sat up further, propping me against him with an arm braced around my front. “Did you hurt her?”

“No. But too much pleasure can be worse than not enough. Come.” Loki knelt closer and opened his arms. “My touch will fix it. Give her to me.”

A growl rumbled deep in Ragnar’s chest but he relinquished me to Loki. The dark-haired warrior scooped me up and carried me to the fire, where he settled me on his lap. I squeezed my legs together, whimpering at the memory of the invisible tongues on my sex. What had just happened?

Loki fussed over me, wrapping me in his cloak. His scent blanketed me and despite myself, I burrowed deeper into his chest. “There you are. That’s the way.” He chuckled. “A little food, a little mead, she’ll be fine.”

“There is no mead,” Ragnar said.

“Check my bag.” Loki nodded towards a tree. Ragnar went and found a large sack leaning against it.

“You didn’t have a bag before,” I whispered.

Loki winked at me. His eyes were back to their normal dual colors. But this time, his left eye was green. Before I could stop myself, I reached up to touch his face.

Loki put a finger to my lips. “Shhh. Did you find the mead?” he asked Ragnar loudly.

Ragnar tossed the small skin in our direction. It landed in the dirt, but within Loki’s reach.

“There’s fish, too—” Loki added.

“Found it,” Ragnar said.

Loki tipped me back so I could drink, while Ragnar grumbled and built up the fire. The honeyed brew renewed me, but when Ragnar had finished cooking the fish, Loki wouldn’t let me feed myself. I was still naked, cloaked only by my hair.

“You did well, Rosalind,” Loki whispered.

“You cheated,” I whispered back. “I don’t know how, but you did.”

“Shhh.” He pushed a bit of baked fish between my lips. “Eat more, love, and regain your strength,” he said, louder.

“So, you won.” Ragnar poked the fire, glaring at it like it was Loki’s face. “Now what?”

“We continue our quest.”

“What quest?” Ragnar noticed me shivering and pulled the cloak from Loki’s pack. Loki turned me in his lap so Ragnar could wrap me up.

Loki shook his head. “Don’t you wonder how one woman got past the Berserker guard? The witches willed it, and so it was.” He pointed to my boots. “The witches gave her those. They told her to go on a quest, but she can't speak about it, can she?”

Ragnar looked to me. “Rosalind?”

I licked my lips and shook my head.

“You can’t prove it.” Ragnar’s forehead wrinkled.

“I couldn’t… if I were only a man,” Loki said.

Ragnar huffed. “This again.”

“You know I’m telling the truth.” Loki raised his right hand and flicked his fingers. “As it stands, I have a little magic.” The air thickened, energy buzzing up my bare arms. A minty scent washed over me, strong as wintergreen berries.

I whimpered.

“Shhh, you’re not hurt. Sensitive to magic, are you?” He rubbed my arms and the sensation lessened. “I've created a spell to shield us from the Corpse King’s ears. You can speak freely here.”

I opened my mouth, and found that I could. The spell stopping my throat was gone. “It's true,” I told Ragnar. “The witches gave me a moonstone dagger. They said I must defeat the Corpse King.”

“But how?” Ragnar asked in a rough voice. “Not even a Berserker can stand against the mage.”

He didn’t say it but I heard it all the same: this quest will be your doom. I hung my head.

“No.” Ragnar crouched before me, cupping my cheek in a rough hand. “I will not let you go.”

I leaned into his hand, my eyes closing. His scent surrounded me.

“Touching,” Loki said. “But she must go. She is our only hope.” He shifted me onto Ragnar’s lap and pulled my feet into his. His thumbs dug into my arches, rubbing in the most delicious way. My eyelids fluttered.

“What am I to do? I have to complete this quest. You don’t understand—”

“Try and explain.” Loki rubbed my heels.

I made myself speak clearly. “I must atone. It's my fault the Corpse King nearly came to possess the moonstone in the first place.”

“But you were carrying it to the heart of his power,” Ragnar pointed out, tugging on his beard.

“In my hands, it is a weapon against him—”

Ragnar dropped his hand and slapped the ground. “But do you know how to use it?”

I buried my face in my hands.

“Enough,” Loki said. “She’s tired. We are safe here. She can rest, and we can keep watch.”

Together, the warriors laid me between them. Ragnar gathered my wrists and bound them in front of me.

“She’s too tired to run,” Loki protested. I did not hear Ragnar’s answer because I had already surrendered into sleep.