Wild About You

A few hours later, she kicked at the sheet and blanket that had twisted around her legs from all her tossing and turning.

“Dammit.” She sat up in bed. How could she sleep when she kept replaying Howard’s kiss in her mind? And imagining what would have happened if she had invited him into her room. Hot Howard. He would have burned up her sheets. The smoke alarms would have gone off.

But he hadn’t even kissed her at the door. He’d simply squeezed her hand and wished her a good night before walking back to the restaurant parking lot.

“He’s a gentleman,” she whispered to herself. That was a point in his favor.

Though gentlemen didn’t usually kill feral pigs with a knife. She shook her head, refusing to dwell on that.

“He’s good with children.” There was no disputing that.

She ticked off more good points on her fingers. “He’s sweet and protective. Intelligent and thoughtful. Handsome and . . . handsome.” Double points for that.

But why this sudden need to list his good points? The answer pricked at her. She was trying hard not to think about his one, major bad point.

He’d made her birthmark burn. And according to his aunts, that made him a threat.

With a groan, she tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. There’s no curse. They were simply a man and a woman who were wildly attracted to each other.

Why shouldn’t she enjoy it? Why couldn’t she fall madly in love with him? She loved the way he made her feel. After a lifetime of feeling oversized and clunky, he made her feel beautiful. Wasn’t that a gift she should treasure?

But why had he caused her birthmark to burn? What made him different from every other man she’d ever met? Was it the secret powers he possessed? Super hearing, super vision, super smell. He’d admitted to those. And he was super fast and strong to have killed those pigs.

She rubbed the mark on her shoulder. How strange that it was shaped like an animal paw, and he’d grown up on an island called The Paw.

She shook her head. It had to be a coincidence. Bears were common in Alaska, so a group of islands called The Bear Claw couldn’t be considered odd. Bears were common in Scandinavia, too. Even her last name, Bjornberg, meant ‘Bear Mountain.’ Coincidences, nothing more. Her life had become so strange lately that she was looking for strangeness where it didn’t exist.

Her cell phone rang, and she jumped. Could it be Howard? Get a grip. She’d never given him her number. She scurried to the desk, where she’d plugged in her phone to recharge.

“Hello?”

“Ellie, sweetie,” Aunt Greta responded. “How are you? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

“Tired, but I made it all the way to Buffalo. I just got off the phone with Aunt Ula. She’s in Albany. I’ll meet her there, then we’re hoping to reach you by tomorrow night. Can you reserve a room for us?”

“Yes, of course,” Elsa assured her. “Don’t push yourself too hard. I’m fine here. Alastair is next door. And Oskar will be arriving tomorrow with some of the crew.”

“Good. Stay in your room till you have plenty of guys to protect you.”

Elsa groaned. “I have a job to do. I’m not going to cower in my room like a scared rabbit.”

“You . . . oh my God, did you go out today?”

“Of course. I have a—”

“Oh no!” Greta’s voice rose in panic. “I told you to stay in your room.”

“I’m perfectly fine.” And I’m twenty-seven years old.

“You’re not taking this seriously enough!”

“Aunt Greta, please. Calm down.”

“This has been going on for centuries! It’s not only your grandmother who was murdered but her grandmother, and more ancestors as far back as we can remember.”

Elsa gasped.

“And they all had the same birthmark you have.”

Elsa’s knees gave out, and she collapsed on the bed.

“Ellie? Are you there?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She pressed a hand against her racing heart. Her aunt was doing a good job of scaring her now. “They . . . they were all murdered?”

Greta sighed. “We thought you would be safe in America, that you would never run into a berserker here.”

“A what?”

“We thought they were all in Norway and Sweden,” Greta continued. “Damn. They must have migrated over the centuries.”

“Who? What?”

“The berserkers. According to family legend, only a berserker can activate the curse.”

Elsa shook her head in confusion. Howard was a berserker? “What?”

“In a way, I suppose it’s our own fault,” Greta mumbled. “It’s part of the curse. We should have never made the berserkers, and now we keep paying for it. Bad Karma, I guess.”

“What are you talking about?”

Greta heaved a sigh. “So you didn’t stay in your room like I asked. Please tell me that you at least had the good sense to stay away from the man who activated the curse.”

Elsa winced. She’d just made out with him. “Well, I did . . . see him.”

“Oh God, no. Didn’t I tell you to avoid him?”

“He seemed perfectly normal.”

“Berserkers can always seem normal. But you never know when they’re going to go berserk!”

Elsa recalled her aunt’s words from the night before. Did he seem wild or crazy to you? Was that what she meant by berserk? “He’s not like that. He’s not wild or crazy.”

“Berserkers kill,” Greta insisted. “They’re killing machines. That’s what they were created to do.”

A shiver ran down Elsa’s spine. How quickly had Howard run off to kill those pigs? “No.” She shook her head, refusing to believe he was wild or crazy. He’d only done it to protect the schoolchildren.

“They go berserk and kill everything in sight,” Greta continued. “They’re like wild beasts.”

Elsa’s breath caught. I won’t ravish you in the woods like a wild beast.

“Do you understand the danger now?” Greta asked. “Will you stay away from him?”

Tears crowded her eyes. She didn’t want to say yes. She didn’t want to believe anything bad about Howard. But she couldn’t leave her aunts in a panic. Maybe after they met Howard, they would realize he was all right. They would see how sweet and gentle he was. “I . . . won’t see him.” For a day or two.

“Good. Now get some rest, and we’ll see you tomorrow night.” Greta hung up.

Get some rest? Elsa dropped the phone on the desk. Did Greta seriously think she could sleep now?

She paced across the room. Berserkers? She checked the lock on the door and paced some more. What the hell was a berserker?

She booted up her laptop and did a search. Berserkers were part of Scandinavian lore. Fierce Norse warriors who went into battle, wearing the pelt of a wolf or a bear. The term berserk could refer to a bear shirt. They worked themselves into an animal-like frenzy, killing indiscriminately.

She jumped to her feet and paced across the room. Animal-like frenzy? She halted suddenly, recalling the loud roar she’d heard that afternoon. When Howard was doing battle with the pigs.

Her skin prickled with gooseflesh. Was that why she’d felt like those ladies knew something she didn’t know? They knew Howard could roar like an animal?

“No.” She sat on the bed. Howard was normal. He didn’t go into an animal-like frenzy. He certainly couldn’t think he was an animal. That would be crazy.

Wild and crazy. Greta had said the berserkers were like wild beasts, killing