Page 6 of Berserker Devotion

"I know people like that," Ulf said, trying to find common ground. And they definitely had Luddites in the Norse warrior tribe. He’d showed Torvald how to text more times than he cared to count. And the dumb Viking still didn’t know the difference between that and email.

But more importantly, he was really tired of being tied up. He also really needed to go to the bathroom. And he was hungry. "I need to pee," he said at the same time as his stomach growled.

"I don't care," the woman answered.

"You'll care when I wet this bed."

She shrugged. "It's Karl's bed."

Her answer confused him. Was Karl her lover? That annoyed him for reasons he didn't want to investigate. But if she was, wouldn't she care if he took a whiz in the man's bed? "Well, where is he?" he finally asked.

"That's what I want to know."

"Listen, Fireling. Maybe I could concentrate and follow this conversation if my head didn't ache like Thor's banging his hammer inside my skull, but there's no chance I can keep this up for much longer. I need a bathroom. I need food.” He sighed. “I need you to untie me."

"What's a fireling?"

He stared at her for a beat. That's what she got out of that entire speech? "I don't know. It's the name that popped up in my head when I first saw you." He tried to gesture toward her head but had to settle for nodding. "Your hair. It's the color of fire."

She opened her mouth as if to respond but closed it again and shook her head. She stood, walked over to the woodstove, and opened its door to put another two logs inside. "Karl has been missing for three days," she said, her back still toward him. She rubbed her hands in front of the stove.

"Can you sell me one of his carvings?" Ulf asked.

She spun around. "His carvings?" Her eyes widened. "That's all you care about?"

"Well, yeah." He frowned. "I mean, I'm sorry your boyfriend is gone." His berserker growled, but he ignored it. "But I don't know Karl. I'm only here to buy a sculpture." He flapped his tingling hands. "And I really need to pee. That's what I care most about right now."

The woman looked at him as if he had said the most insensitive thing. Her mouth opened and then closed again.

He'd finally made her lose her composure, but somehow it didn't feel as satisfying as he thought it would.

CHAPTER 5

Nora left the man—Ulf if that was his real name—moaning about his full bladder while she went into the kitchen area to call Bolt back.

Again, he answered on the first ring. “Shit, I’ve been waiting for you to call forever,” her packmate said. “I tried to call your satellite phone several times, but couldn’t get through.”

“I turn it off between calls to save power,” Nora said.

“Leave it on next time I’m trying to get a hold of you,” Bolt barked.

“He just now woke up,” Nora changed the topic.

“What did he say?”

“Some story about being out for a stroll in deep snow without proper equipment because he wants to buy a carving from my uncle.”

“I think that may actually be the truth,” Bolt said.

“Hey,” the man shouted from the bed. “I told you that was the truth. Now untie me so I can pee.”

“Shut up,” Nora said over her shoulder and walked out the back door onto the covered porch that stored the firewood. She closed the door behind her.

Heavy snow still fell, and she couldn’t see more than a few feet beyond the edge of the railing. An icy breeze swept through the area, but at least she didn’t have to listen to her prisoner’s complaints.

“You tied him to the bed?” Bolt chuckled.

“The couch is no good for restraining people,” she replied and earned another chuckle. It was good to hear her packmate’s laughter. It didn’t happen often. He could be a bit of a dark one. But then again, with his rough upbringing, she would be too. It was a miracle that his PTSD didn’t have him severely incapacitated.

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