Chapter Ten
A berserker, Tam had said. Hazel turned the word over in her head and worried at it like a squirrel worrying a nut. Me? A berserker?
Her memory of the fight was vague. She’d lost control, that she knew. Lost her temper, lost control. Maybe that was what it meant to be a berserker?
Yesterday, when she’d been attacked, it hadn’t been anger that had consumed her, but terror. The outlaws had overcome her easily. Today, rage had obliterated fear and she had seriously injured—perhaps even killed—two men. That was sobering. Very sobering. But she wasn’t sorry for it. Not if it meant that Tam was alive.
She glanced at Tam, sauntering alongside her, whistling under his breath. The cut made a thin, red s***h along his cheekbone.
Tam caught her glance, and grinned. “I have time for t
