Not even a full hour passed before the first notes of danger drifted to them. A flurry of birds left their warm perches within the treetops, the first sign things were not as they should be. The air grew unnaturally still, as though the mountain itself held its breath in anticipation of the destruction about to be unleashed.
The hairs on Esmund's neck and arms rose in warning seconds before he picked up the faint click of someone cocking a rifle at least seventy yards behind them. He kicked Barnaby into a faster pace and curled around Elsie, using his body as a shield against the bullet that soon whistled through the air dangerously close to his left ear.
Hoofbeats sounded as loud as thunder behind them, growing increasingly louder until Father's animalistic roar cut them off. Gunnar's soon joined father's, followed by a bloodcurdling scream. There was no question as to whether Gunnar and father had berserked; the problem lay in whether or not Esmund and Ulric should rush to their aid or wait.
Ulric decided for them. "You two stay here with the women; I'll ensure they're not in danger."
Esmund and Nora nodded their agreement and reined to a stop.
"Do you think it was the McCreedy's?" Elsie silently asked.
"I don't know."
His answer seemed to satisfy her before her next question rang through his mind.
"What do we do if it wasn't?"
He looked down at her upturned face and gave her a reassuring smile, "You do not need to worry. I promise to keep you safe."
She shook her head, "It's not myself I'm worried about, but your family."
Esmund fiddled with the reins and looked away. It was touching she would be concerned for his father and Gunnar, whom she barely knew. Emotion tightened his throat and made speaking difficult, so he thought instead, "Ulric will be back any minute."
However, time dragged on well past the length it should have taken for Ulric or the others to return. Elsie shifted in the saddle as she tried to peer around Esmund's shoulder, but he gently tucked her back against the cover his body provided.
"Shouldn't he be back by now?"
Esmund purposefully kept his mind blank, a feat in itself since every nerve in his body screamed for him to race to his family's aid. Something was wrong. He could feel it as surely as he felt the weighty object slam into the back of his head in the next breath.
Blood ran down his back and soaked his shirt, but before he was able to turn and catch a glimpse of his attacker, another heavy object crashed against his skull, causing him to slump forward.
His body grew sluggish and failed to respond to his commands to move. Elsie screamed and struggled to keep him in the saddle, but she couldn't support his full weight for longer than a minute.
Screams filled the air around him as he fell. The snow-covered ground rose to meet him and welcomed him into its cold embrace so hard he bit his tongue and drew blood. Air refused to fill his lungs, no matter how desperately he tried to gasp in a breath.
The last thing he saw before the world went black was Elsie's terrified, tear-streaked face pleading for him not to die as she pressed a berry between his lips.
The bitter tang of baneberry juice burned its way down Esmund's throat. Muscles bulged and grew as the full effect of the berry took hold and unleashed his Berserker. His head wound healed, and his senses sharpened.
When he opened his eyes, the colors of his surroundings muted to varying shades of gray—all except for a short figure standing in the shadow of the forest, glowing as though consumed by white-hot flames.
It spun toward Esmund in strange, disjointed movements and began chanting foreign words in a dark, malevolent voice that infused the air and blocked all other sounds. It was as though the voice itself was a living, breathing thing, not merely belonging to the glowing person.
The words grew louder and more insistent until they echoed within Esmund's blood and reverberated through his bones. Excruciating pain, unlike any he'd ever experienced, pierced every nerve within his body.
The figure reached out a hand toward Esmund and clenched its fist. Suddenly, a sharp pain seized Esmund's chest, and he feared his heart would burst from the intolerable pressure.
He lay in the snow, crippled and writhing in agony, welcoming death if it would bring an end to the torture, but in a rush of wind and a flash of light, the voice and person vanished.
Discordant sounds of violence assaulted Esmund in a deluge of noise, made even more shocking when he realized the pain was gone. No remnant remained to prove it had even existed. Where had the devil run off to—or, more accurately, where had the scoundrel poofed to?
Unable to find an obvious answer, Esmund turned to the source of the violence and welcomed the overwhelming desire to unleash his rage. Four men—make that three—fought against Nora twenty feet to his right.
She'd berserked and was holding her own against men ill-equipped to deal with a Berserker. Blood sprayed onto her neck and shirt as the next man she killed dropped to the crimson-stained snow at her feet.
In a matter of seconds, Esmund took in all immediate threats and determined Nora had everything under control. Piper was relatively safe, lying unconscious, tied, and draped over the back of a horse. Her right shoulder bled profusely and would require tending, but Elsie needed him far more at the moment.
Two burly men dragged her as she fought against them. She clawed and kicked one of her assailants and gained a heavy-handed strike to the face for her efforts. The blow knocked her out, and she slumped within their grasp, allowing them to haul her with much more ease toward a waiting horse. Esmund roared his fury and raced toward his mate, relishing the destruction he would unleash upon the foolish imbeciles.
He was on them in the next heartbeat and snapped the neck of the man daring to harm her. The second man squealed in terror, throwing Elsie to the ground seconds before Esmund picked him up and slammed him against his knee, breaking his back in two.
Esmund quickly discarded and ignored the broken man and knelt at Elsie's side, wanting to tear the men apart all over again when he saw her bruised and bloodied cheek. With the tender care he would have shown a newborn baby, he cradled her against his chest and stood with her in his arms. Her eyelids fluttered against her cheeks, but she didn't wake.
Esmund turned in time to see Nora pick up her last opponent by the scruff of his neck and throw him over her shoulder. His strangled scream echoed down the canyon as his body sailed through the air until it collided with Barnaby, who reared and trampled the man to death.
The Berserker rage released its hold upon Esmund just as Elsie opened her eyes and smiled at him. "It's so nice not to die in your presence for a change."
He smiled in return but had to clear his throat to speak past the emotion. His voice sounded raspy when he teased, "Let's hope I can keep up the good work."
The smile left her eyes, replaced by a deep emotion he was afraid to name and powerless to deny. She reached up a steady hand, wiped his hair off his forehead, and trailed her fingers down the side of his face until it rested on his left cheek.
As soon as they touched, visions of them laughing, kissing, and staring at each other with desire-filled gazes flickered before his eyes—there and then gone like the flash of light when striking a match. Did she wield some magic to cause this, or was she just as helpless against the visions as he was?
Could it be the gods sending him proof that he and Elsie were destined to be together? It had to be. Every moment spent in her company heightened his craving to see, be near, and touch her.
Her throat muscles worked over a swallow, and her heartbeat quickened beneath his grasp.
"Why do you look at me like that?" she whispered, huskier than usual.
He leaned into her touch, the rumbling purr in his chest growing louder with each caress of her fingers. "Like what?"
Her brows creased, creating two delicate, parallel lines over her nose. A breath caught in her throat, and her frown lifted. Four more seconds ticked by before she was able to speak. "As though you think I'm beautiful."
His heart thudded against his ribs hard enough that he was sure she could feel its desperate pounding. He couldn't have held back his answer if he'd wanted to, "Because you are."
"You clearly have poor vision; however, I won't complain."
He laughed. "Or maybe I'm the first to see you for who you really are."
Elsie's eyes darkened as she ran her thumb across his left cheek, "You have a dimple right...here."
She'd said it as though she were divulging the secret location of an enemy camp. Usually, he would have flashed his customary dimpled grin and really shown the devilish indentation off, but it was taking all the self-control he possessed to refrain from kissing her—a battle he would lose if she kept looking at him that way. "I do?"
Elsie nodded and licked her lips, her eyes darting from his eyes to his mouth. "I think you're beautiful too."
"For heaven's sake," Ulric grumbled good-naturedly. "Would you two kiss already so we can escape Death Mountain?"
Esmund clenched his jaw and tried to ignore his rude brother, but the moment was gone. Elsie pressed against his shoulder, silently begging him to let her stand. The second her feet touched solid ground, she sprang from his arms and hurried over to Piper and Nora.
Ulric came to stand beside Esmund, grinning from ear to ear as he rested a hand upon Esmund's shoulder, "I apologize...poor timing."
Poor timing indeed. Esmund muttered several curses under his breath, not fooled for a second. Ulric seemed to have an innate sense of when to interrupt for maximum effect.
He never would have suspected it if he hadn't witnessed Ulric use the same tactics to divert Gunnar from claiming Nora a few months ago. "You better sleep with one eye open for the next fifty years."
Ulric released a low whistle as a comical look of alarm settled upon his face, "Now that's a fierce little threat, Princess."
Esmund smiled, "Need I remind you of what happened the last time you crossed me?"
The asinine expression left Ulric's face, replaced with a genuinely worried frown, "You wouldn't."
Esmund lifted his shoulders in a long, drawn-out shrug. "I'm a man of mystery, Ulric; who knows what I'll do."
"What happened back there?" Nora asked with concern, evident in her expression and tone. "Why aren't Gunnar and your father with you?"
Ulric locked his gaze on Esmund and didn't spare her a glance as he replied, "They're fine—should be here any minute."
Esmund's gaze darted between Ulric and Piper's wounded shoulder, waiting to see if any of the spilled blood would cause him to berserk, and wondered if Ulric had the same fear. He stood ten feet from the women, his body rigid with tension and fists clenched at his sides.
Nora finished bandaging Piper and carefully helped her to stand. "You still haven't answered my first question." She braced Piper when all the blood drained from her face, and she swayed where she stood, but after a minute, Piper took a trembling breath and gave a weak smile.
Ulric shrugged and ran a hand over his bald head, keeping a wary eye on Esmund. "Because it isn't something women should hear."
"Oh, I see—you're trying to protect our delicate sensibilities...is that it?"
"Nora, you haven't known me for very long; therefore, you might not understand," He pressed a hand to his chest and bowed. "I'm nothing if not chivalrous."
Nora scoffed and settled her hands on her hips, but whatever she'd been about to say died on her lips when Gunnar and Vernon galloped into view. Gunnar led a mangy-looking horse that carried three corpses wrapped in bloodied tarps.
Vernon reined to a stop. Anger filled his eyes, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. It was a look Esmund and his brothers were extremely familiar with and referred to as 'the floating head of death.' Whenever father deployed the expression, tears, and secrets soon followed, despite any attempt to suppress them, and it was clear, as Esmund snuck a look at all faces present, none were immune to its power.
Without even realizing he'd done so, Esmund stood protectively before Elsie. When had he moved, and why had he even felt the need? It wasn't as though Elsie was in danger of being hurt. His father, although a Berserker, wasn't what Esmund would consider a violent man; unless it pertained to his occupation as a US Marshal.
"After what happened last night, I was willing to wait, but..." Fury filled Vernon's voice when he looked over Esmund's shoulder at Elsie and demanded, "I want answers, and I want them now."
A low, warning growl clawed its way free from Esmund's throat. He widened his stance, his muscles tensing as he prepared to protect his mate.
Elsie rested her hand upon Esmund's left shoulder blade and stepped around him. Her heart pounded, and her voice shook, but she squared her shoulders and nodded. "What do you want to know?"