21. Chapter 21
Gunnar
My stomach lurches as the world blurs around me.
One moment I’m in the English countryside and the next I’m in the sea near the shore of my pack’s island.
I shove the branch of Yggdrasil into my pocket and row fast. The sick feeling in my stomach remains, leaving me doubled over, taking in deep breaths so I don’t get sick all over my boots.
Gods, I have ruined everything.
The taste of the witch’s blood lingers in my mouth, a constant reminder of my savagery as I run to the only place I know I can be safe. My brothers will know what to do. They can help. Please, gods, help them to help me.
I lost control. It was only for a few fleeting seconds, but that was all it took. Humans saw me transform. The witch I attacked was a TTA agent, of all people! If I ever see Arlo again, it will be by the grace of the gods.
The cold air stings my damp eyes and burns my lungs. As my feet pound the worn, muddy road, I reach for the bonds of my pack within my heart.
“Brothers. Help me. Please!”
They light up like fires in the night.
“Are you hurt? What’s happened?” Lyall.
“Come to the longhouse!” Wulfric.
Other voices fill my head. Helga’s. Anders’s. Kieran’s.
The door to Wulfric’s home flies open at my approach, and I barrel inside. Wulfric slams it after me and bolts it. My legs give out, and I crumple onto my knees and gasp for air. The scent of home and pack floods my nose, and the red haze at the edge of my mind recedes bit by bit.
“What’s happened?” Lyall kneels beside me, his presence as warm as a blazing fire in the dark. He touches my shoulder, his hand comforting and heavy.
“I…” I can barely get the words out. The berserker still has its hooks in me. It doesn’t want to talk. It wants to hunt, to kill. My claws scrape the floor, and a snarl builds in my throat.
“Shit. Not good,” Anders rumbles to my left, taking hold of my other shoulder.
“Wulfric! He’s losing himself!” Lyall cries, and his heart races in my ears. I can almost smell the blood pumping through that meaty organ. Can imagine the way it would squish between my fangs, blood gushing—
Hands frame my face, big and rough. The Alpha forces me to look up at him and stares me down. “Submit,” he growls, and there’s a tugging in my mind. I want to obey. No. To submit will mean death. My fangs lengthen and a growl tears at my throat.
“Wulf, be careful!”
“Stay back, Kieran!” he snarls over his shoulder, then focuses on me. “I said, submit!” His roar fills the house, shaking it to its foundations, rattling the windows. The Alpha’s might exceeds my own. I must obey.
Whining, I lower my forehead to my brother’s knee. My fangs become blunt and my claws shrink.
“There you are,” Wulfric breathes, cupping the nape of my neck. “I’ve got you.”
The haze lifts, taking my fury with it. The berserker has retreated, but I can still feel him prowling the borders of my sanity. He will return, and when he does, I won’t have the strength to fight him.
“Thank the gods,” Aunt Helga says, and I feel awful when I notice the sheen in her eyes. “You scared us, dear.”
“Sorry,” I murmur, chest aching.
“Where did this blood come from?” Wulfric asks calmly, but his heartbeat skips. “What happened? Can you tell me?”
Words form in my throat and this time my mind allows them through.
“I-I’ve ruined everything.” Tears burn my eyes, my throat thickening until it aches.
Lyall squeezes my shoulder. “Tell us.”
“A witch attacked me. In the v-village near Arlo’s home.”
Anders’s fingers tighten, bunching in my furs. “Who was this witch?”
“TTA,” I rasp.
Nearby, Kieran curses softly.
“Is he still alive?” Wulfric asks.
I nod. “Aye, but I lost myself. I shifted and people saw and—gods, they’re going to come after me.” The TTA will take me away. I’ll never see Arlo again. Oh gods, I ran off on him. I let that be our last moment together.
I can’t let the TTA take me away. I’ve got to see him again so I can apologize for how bloody badly I left things.
I’ve got to tell him that I—
“Breathe, brother,” Wulfric says coaxingly, lifting my face toward his. “You’re still in control. We will not let them take you.”
“Where’s Arlo?” Kieran asks. “Does he know?”
I shake my head, shame roiling in my stomach. “No. I… damn it! I ran from him. He told me he loved me, and I ran like a coward!”
There’s a pause, and I look up. Kieran has a small smile on his face. “Usually, people tell each other that before they get engaged, right?”
Lyall huffs. “Like you’re one to talk, brother.”
Anders thumps my shoulder. “Called it. I knew you two were hiding something.”
Wulfric drops his hands into his lap and chuckles. “Aye, neither of you were exactly convincing.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, allowing myself to sit up. “You didn’t believe us?”
“You were about as convincing as Lyall was when he claimed he was dating Arlo, but it was cute, so whatever,” Kieran says.
Helga smiles. “We were just happy you two were finally connecting. You… are connecting, aye?”
My shoulders slump. “If I haven’t ruined everything.”
“Nonsense!” Helga says. She marches up to me and holds out her hands.
“You are fated for each other by the Norns themselves. There’s no obstacle you can’t overcome.
” She tugs and hoists me up onto my feet.
“Now, you go and sit down. I’ll get you something to eat, and then all of us will come up with a plan to send those witches back where they came from. ”
Despite everything, it’s difficult not to smile.
My family has my back. They will help me, and I don’t have to go through this ordeal alone.
Clearing the lump from my throat, I say, “Thank you.” Gods only know they’d have every reason to turn me away.
I have kept to myself and been distant toward them while the berserker gnawed at my mind. Yet here they are, ready to help me.
It’s more than I deserve.
In a matter of minutes, Aunt Helga and Lyall have assembled a plate of bread, cheese, and fruit.
We gather at the table, and I clean my plate in seconds.
I’d skipped breakfast when I’d run out on Arlo, and shifting so much mass has drained much of my energy.
Has Arlo eaten yet? I should have brought him something from the kitchen.
“Now,” Helga says.
Lyall stiffens in his seat. “Hold on. It’s Soren. He’s speaking to me through our bond.” He closes his eyes. “He says—”
Distant howls rend the air beyond the village. Howls of warning.
Wulfric’s eyes widen. “Witches,” he growls.
No, they can’t be here already. Not yet. We aren’t prepared.
Wulfric’s out of his seat, the chair clattering to the floor. “Gunnar, make yourself scarce! Go to our family burial mound and don’t come out unless I tell you through the bond.”
I shake my head. “I won’t leave you to fight.”
Wulfric replies, “We’re not fighting. Not yet.” He goes to the door and holds it open for Kieran, who follows him out the door without hesitation.
Lyall squeezes my shoulder. “We’ve got this, brother. Do as Wulf says. Everything will be fine.” He smiles with such conviction that I can’t tell if he believes it or not.
Anders huffs. “Not fighting, my tail. If those witches try anything, I’m going to make them regret it.”
Helga rounds on him, a stern finger raised. “Anders, son of Erik, you will behave or I will tell Jamie to put a harness on you the next time he comes for dinner!”
Anders winces but doesn’t argue with that.
I feel utterly useless as my family runs off to confront the witches without me, but the last thing I want is to burden them.
If I lose control again, that will only make things worse.
So I leave out the back door and run. It takes me longer to get there on two legs instead of four, but I won’t risk shifting.
The burial mound comes into view, capped with frost. After the attack on our village, we’d burned the bodies and brought the ash and bone of our fallen with us to our new home.
Within the mound, it’s dark and quiet, but I don’t need light to guide me.
I know the path to their graves as well as I remember Bjorn’s sweet laughter and Leif’s kind smile.
Seven paces to the right, ten straight ahead and I am there. The little box I’d carried their ashes in is worn from all the times I’ve cradled it in my hands. Kneeling, I lift the box oh so carefully and lay it in my lap.
“It’s me.” My voice is barely a whisper.
It’s been too long since I was here last. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to visit.
I’ve been busy, but I’m sure you know that.
” They’d seen me in my dream, after all.
“Truth is, I’ve been too ashamed to visit,” I confess, running my thumb over the smooth wood. “You know why, don’t you, Leif?”
Tears dampen my eyes, and I thumb them away.
“I made you a promise, my love, and it’s one I will keep until I am in my grave. I will never forget you. But you never asked me not to love another, you never asked me to punish myself.” My throat aches, making it difficult to get in a full breath.
“I love him, Leif. I love him so much, and I know you would, too. So please. Please, lend me your strength so that I may see him again.”
Tears drip onto the wood, darkening it. I smudge them away with a shaky exhale.
“Help me to see him again so I can love him the way you and Bjorn taught me to.”
They were my greatest teachers. If I can carry on the memories of Leif’s tender loyalty and Bjorn’s unconditional love, then they will never truly be gone. They will live on through me and help me become the man I once was. The man who was capable of love and vulnerability.
The man Arlo deserves.
The bond tying me to Wulfric lights up, and my heart sinks.
“What is it?” I ask, praying he isn’t hurt. I’d feel it if he were, I know it.
“The witches are here, brother.”
I close my eyes tight, despair crashing over me like a dark, cold wave. Not yet. Please, not yet.
“And?” Why is he telling me this? I already knew they were coming, so—
“It’s your witch, Gunnar. His family, too. He wants to see you. Don’t keep him waiting.”
Arlo.
He came for me.
My mate.
Oh gods, my mate is here.
Gods, thank you.