Reluctant Berserker: Isaacson Trilogy Book One

Chapter 16

'I could have killed her.' It was the only thought running through his head once the effects of the berry finally wore off, and he ended the kiss—a kiss that shocked him down to the marrow of his bones. He'd never kissed a woman that way or wanted to until Nora.

It frightened him almost as much as the fact he could have killed her. Not saying a word, he kept his arm latched around her waist, skillfully maneuvered both of them down the rain-slickened tree, set her aside, picked up his hat, and retreated into the cave.

Wasp lifted her head when he entered, nickering softly. Nora stayed at the entrance; he could hear her pacing back and forth. Gunnar opened the tin of berries from his pocket while grumbling expletives under his breath.

When he saw Esmund at home tonight, Gunnar would give him an earful about his precious white berries failing to do their job of allowing him to stay in control, but curses died on his tongue when light from the fire revealed red baneberries—not white.

His stomach lurched as he slammed the tin closed and threw it to the ground. Water sprayed outward from his body, hissing upon contact with the fire. Not only had Nora faced his Berserker and lived, but from what he had learned two years ago, his Berserker had just claimed her with that kiss. He covered his face with his hands and closed his eyes, groaning. How was he going to get out of this now?

The sound of her pacing back and forth was grating on his nerves. Why wasn't she entering the cave? Was she concerned he would attack her again? If Nora could feel the rush of emotions barreling through him, she would be much more than worried; she'd run as far away from him as possible.

"What are you doing out there?" he shouted, cringing at the thread of anger he heard in his voice. Fat drops of muddy water plummeted to the dirt at his feet in a steady plop-plop-plop, punctuating each second it took before she finally answered him.

"I'm pacing."

"I know. I can hear you," Gunnar grumbled. Rubbing his hands harshly over his face, he took a deep breath. He needed to get a hold of himself. "Will you please come in here?"

She took one step into the passageway and then turned around. "No."

"I promise I will keep my distance if you do."

Nora muttered, "Trust me...you're the least of my worries."

It wasn't what she said, but how she said it, that had him walking to the entrance. "What's wrong?"

Conflicting emotions of laughter and remorse filled him when he saw her. Smears of muddy blood covered the lower portion of her face, down her bodice, and the front of her dress. Everywhere their clothing and bodies had touched was covered in filth.

She swallowed and paced away, "Nothing's wrong. I prefer to remain out here."

"It's still raining; you'll get soaked. Come in here."

"I am already soaked; a little extra rain won't hurt."

More than anything, he wanted to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, and forcibly carry her into the cave, but he refused to resort to what his mother termed 'caveman tactics.'

He rolled his eyes and planted his hands on his hips, "Are you always this difficult?"

"Yes."

A grin tugged at his lips. Nora hadn't hesitated to reply, which meant she'd been asked that question before—often. Using his most polite tone and bowing graciously, he said, "Please, come in so I may show you the reason for bringing you here in the first place."

The pacing ended, but she clenched her hands into fists at her side and avoided his gaze. "I can't."

He frowned, "Why not?"