The man didn’t want to care.
But he did.
As if the sun had shot out bright rays to illuminate the truth, Breena knew she had her weapon against Osborn…if she wanted to wield it. She sucked in a deep breath and squeezed her eyes tight in relief. Breena had the weaponry, but it was his need to protect her that made her heart race.
She swallowed past the lump that had lodged in her throat. “Yes. Thanks to you.” She flashed him a grateful smile. He blinked at her, settling on the backs of his heels. Was he surprised? How did he think she’d react? Afraid? He looked over to his side, examining the dead bodies to verify that, yes, they were indeed still dead. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. Osborn was afraid that she’d reject him or be frightened by him.
She gripped his arm, giving him a squeeze. Her own magic hadn’t been wrong to draw her to this man. He had to be the one who’d help her reclaim Elden.
But the man maintained a real aversion to the notion that he was being used for his sword. Something had made him hard and suspicious, and she was going to find out. Her mother often complained of men stifling their emotions and that half the time a woman needed to come along and give them a good pop just to release the pressure. Osborn seemed to be holding himself tighter than a sealed drum. Maybe what he needed was for her to give him a good figurative smack.
Maybe he needed her just as much as she needed him.
Now to get him to aid her without him knowing. She searched her mind for ideas, quickly discarding and refining until she hit on a scenario Osborn just might agree to.
She brushed the hilt of his sword. “Teach me.”
He glanced down at her fingers wrapped around the handle of his sword, then up at her. “What?”
“Teach me what you do.”
Osborn shook his head. “It cannot be taught to a woman. At least, I don’t think so. There were never any women with the berserkergang.”
“Then teach me to fight. I’ve never seen anything like what you just did. You were strong when you fought the creature in the lake. I doubt any man could walk away from that battle as you did, but in the alley you were invincible.” What was it her mother always said? That there was nothing wrong with spreading a little flattery when it came to a man?
At least he seemed less…unrelenting.
“There will be other men bent to attack me now that I’m out on my own. I have to be able to protect myself.”
Her fingertips bumped into his, and he jerked. Good.
“You won’t be my warrior, I can accept that, but at least give me a chance. Surely there are methods I could learn from you—how to use a knife…something. Anything, Osborn. I have to find my people. To avenge.” To survive.
His shoulders slumped. Yes, she was wearing him down.
He stood, towering over her, then extended his hand to help Breena to her feet. “I don’t wish to talk in this place of death.”
She glanced over at the two dead bodies and then quickly looked away. “What about them? Are we going to leave them here?”
“Vermin like that? Anyone who’d prey on the helpless, especially women and children, deserves nothing less. This is where they belong.”
After wiping his blade, he slammed his knife home in his boot scabbard. Reaching for her hand, he guided her toward the entrance. He scanned the scene past the alley, keeping her in place against his back. A protective move, and she allowed herself a small bubble of hope.
Apparently satisfied no one would witness their escape, he pushed them forward, joining the bustling crowd. Osborn routed her in a direction leading away from town, winding through the streets of the village, and avoiding contact with strangers. She tried to reclaim her earlier enthusiasm for this visit before she’d been attacked, wanting, needing, something normal. Maybe if she concentrated on the wares at the various stalls and booths. But Osborn led her past each one, refusing to pause even at the ones selling delicious pastries and pies, despite their tantalizing smells.
“Pretty lady, over here.”
“A ribbon for her, sir?”
But Osborn ignored them all, and kept them walking. Once out of earshot of the townspeople, she couldn’t hold her questions in any longer.
“I’ve heard the berserkers were crazed. Couldn’t control themselves when they were…” She didn’t know the word. Few did anymore.
“Under the berserkergang,” he supplied for her. “And if we couldn’t control it, that’d make us poor warriors.”
“I could sense it, that berserkergang. You’re the most powerful fighter I’ve ever seen, but you knew who I was and didn’t hurt me.”
“No, I wouldn’t hurt you,” he told her softly.
Did she mistake hearing that near whisper of his? Not on purpose. “What happens to you after the rage has passed? I’ve heard berserkers are at their weakest, but you were invincible after the fight.”
“Nothing is invincible. The wolves have their silver, the vamps have their sun. I am just a man, but with my Bärenhaut, my pelt, only raw materials of the earth can hurt me. If the battle is long, then yes, I cannot go on without rest.”
“And if the battle is short?” she was almost afraid to ask.
“Then I seek the relief only a woman can give.” She felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. As he’d intended her to feel. That was the last question she planned on asking, and she had so many about the man. She suspected most would go unanswered. Was that why she found him so intriguing? That she’d never fully know the story of this berserker?
“What other things have you heard of my kind?” he asked.
So he did want to have a conversation. “That women aren’t—”
She stopped her words in time. Was she about to actually tell him that?
“Breena?” he asked, using a voice she suspected few had dared argue with.
Something flickered in his eyes. Heated.
“That women aren’t safe around berserkers. That they take what they want. Who they want. Make a sport of challenging men with daughters.”
He halted and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to face him.
“That rumor’s true,” he told her, his eyes on her soft lips. He grasped her chin between his fingers, rubbed the tender skin with his callused thumb.
“Do you feel safe with me, Breena?”
She chose not to answer. Breena pulled her chin from his clutch, and they continued down the path.
Not too far on the outskirts of town, a peaceful green-grassed clearing stretched near a quiet river, and Osborn finally stopped. The line of the forest stood only a few steps away, and the fresh pine smell scented the air.
“This is beautiful,” she told him, remembering the story of the girl who stayed too long in a meadow picking flowers. She’d enjoyed the sun on her face so much that she’d lost her way, finding only a wolf to trust to lead her home.
“It’s easily defensible.”
“What does that mean?”
“With the river to my back, I only have to defend three sides. The forest can provide coverage for a potential enemy or if I need to regroup.”
So many things to know. Where she saw a place to kick off her shoes and run, Osborn saw a good place for battle. “See? I’m already learning.”
Her warrior met her gaze, and the smile on her face disappeared. The fierce passion simmering in his eyes made her swallow. “I will teach you, Breena. But what will I get in return?”
“Wh-what do you mean?”
“Everyone must earn what they eat. What can you offer?”
“Well, I can…” She tried to remember all the important duties she maintained in the castle that could translate to Osborn’s home. “I can sew a beautiful tapestry for the cottage. Maybe one depicting your greatest victory,” she told him, warming up to the idea.