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“Mmmhmm,” Broni moaned as he bit the tip of her breast.
“Then I guess you need to make sure I’m very satisfied before I leave.”
“I think I can manage that, my Viking master…”
Epilogue
Willow jumped up from his arms, already missing their warmth. She bent over to pick up the basket of berries he had helped her to pick, already missing him. They had known each other for such a short time, but she already recognized him as her mate. Her family thought she was too young and frail, so she had been too frightened of their reaction to let them meet the stranger.
She saw the love in his eyes, heard the promises he made to her. She wanted to be with him forever, however he treated her as a friend, telling her he wanted to wait until she was older.
Her mother and father had created her when they were younger than she was now, but he wouldn’t listen to her. He said they had to wait until the time was right. He had made her so many promises.
She heard the horn. Dropping her basket, she turned to run back to her village.
“Willow, wait.”
“Warrior, I must go. Something is wrong.” She tried to jerk her wrist away.
“Tell me what I told you, and I will let you go!”
Willow turned back to her warrior, seeing the anguish in his eyes. Something deep inside of her was telling her it was important, the desperation in his voice had her wanting to please him.
She quit struggling to get away. “I must always remember your love for me. I will never be alone. You will be by my side through eternity. You will always see me.”
“Don’t forget, Willow. It’s important,” he persisted.
“I won’t. I have to go, Warrior,” she pleaded.
With her promise, his hand reluctantly let her go.
She ran away toward her village as fast as her crippled leg let her, her thoughts filled with terror when she heard the screams…
* * *
The warrior watched from the mountain as the village was massacred. His hands clenched at his side, forcing himself to stay until the end, nothing remaining but the silence.
“Who are you?”
Warrior turned to see Fate standing behind him. She was younger, without the lines of worry and tension lining her face the centuries had brought.
“Fate,” Warrior’s voice was grave. “I know why you’re here.” He handed her a slip of paper. “That’s a spell you have to teach your second child. Her life will depend on it.”
Her hand reached out to take the paper, opening it.
“Joro signed this.”
“Yes.” She raised a brow. “It’s a Native American protection spell. You of all people should know I can’t say more.”
Fate looked at him speculatively. “Very well. I will do as you ask.”
“Thank you.” And with that, he was gone the next second.
Fate’s mind filled with visions, some clear, many unclear because in some way, the warrior was entangled within her life. He had made a difficult choice to save the life of the woman he loved, however, that much she could see.
She looked down at the village. It would not be the last time a large number of people would be killed on the same spot.
Fate transported herself to the village. She had to direct the few survivors to bury the bodies. Their spirits would one day provide protection for others who believed the end was near. As Fate looked inside one hut, the young girl’s torture was apparent. Her heart ached.
