Chapter 56
The Idavoll breakfast table held little warmth—the only sign of comradery was between Viggo and Conalle, who sat at the far end, whispering and giggling together. Viggo placed his hand on Conalle’s knee, sending a flush through the lord’s cheeks.
Vali and Steffen spoke in hushed tones, casting nervous glances at the doorway. A bruise bloomed on Steffen’s face where Westley had punched him yesterday.
Gerrie and Noren sat on either side of the table, glaring daggers at each other while they sipped their tea, not breaking eye contact.
Solveig stood in the shadows of the doorway watching the scene play out before her. Her mothers were nowhere to be seen, but North and Easta sat at the head, quiet and thoughtful.
The table was spread with fruits and juices, the smell of the freshly baked pastries wafting into the narrow hallway. Solveig was famished.
Though they hadn’t had a long night of vigorous lovemaking, Solveig had spent plenty of time torturing Westley. It was quickly becoming her new favourite pastime. But eventually, their lust had cooled and they’d begun to heal.
Fear had driven a wedge between them, and only time together could remove it. Talking about it was difficult, but Westley had listened, had held her when she needed and had given her space when his presence in the dark had overwhelmed her.
Eventually her emotions had settled, and they’d lain in bed, talking deep into the night, trading battle stories and strategies for the upcoming war.
Something was coming soon, and they needed to be prepared for it.
“Do we have to go in?” Westley said, pulling her back against him. He leaned down to nip the rounded tip of her ear. “I can think of much better things than eating breakfast with this nosey lot.”
He sent a picture into her mind—of them in bed together, his hands undoing his pants. Just before they dropped, Solveig shoved the image away. She would stick to her eighty-nine-day rule, but that didn’t mean she had to make it harder for herself.
Eighty-eight days.
Westley laughed with a sigh. He took her hand, and they entered the breakfast room. The mood immediately shifted to hoots and hollers until their scent reached the table.
“Has it been so long, Aegir, that you forgot how to bed a female?” Viggo called. Conalle cuffed him upside the head.
“He tortured me, so now I’m torturing him,” Solveig said simply, catching the chocolate-filled crescent Gerrie tossed her way.
“Ooooh, dark, Sol,” Gerrie said with a grin.
“Technically I never tortured you,” Westley countered, dodging the elbow Solveig jabbed into his side with a smile.
“You torture me with your presence every day,” she shot back. He kissed the top of her head in answer before he sat down and began filling a plate.
“Are you two going to be gross now?” Noren asked, no trace of humour on his face.
“Still got that stick up your ass, I see,” Solveig mumbled around a mouthful of buttery pastry. She moaned at the taste, and Westley shot her a warning look. Oh yes, this was going to be fun.
“I’m going to miss the heated gazes of hate and lust,” Conalle said with a remorseful sigh.
“I’m sure there will still be plenty of that,” Solveig assured him, laughing.
Oh really? Lustful glances? Westley quirked a brow.
Only if you’re really good.
What do I get if I’m really bad? There was a feral look in his eyes, and Solveig’s core was slick already. She couldn’t answer him and his chuckle filled her mind.
“Oooh, it’s happening already. Though it does make me jealous.” Conalle sighed again.
“I can lust after you, Con. I already know what it’s like to sleep with you, so it won’t be hard,” Viggo teased, winking. Conalle’s ears turned pink.
“You sure you want to wait?” Conalle said, turning back to her, his cheeks decidedly redder. “Remember how I said Fae lovers were to die for?” He jerked his head at Viggo and nodded vigorously.
“Hopefully this one isn’t as disappointing as the last,” Solveig said mischievously. Westley growled and she laughed, turning to him. “What, you don’t like me talking about past lovers?”
“Not if you’d like them to keep their heads,” Westley said through gritted teeth.
“We’d like to keep our heads, please,” Vali chimed in, lifting his hand in the air. Westley’s gaze snapped to the two Elven brothers.
Conalle laughed and shot a thumbs-up to Solveig, mouthing “brothers” and nodding in approval. Solveig had to stifle her laugh with a mouthful of fruit.
Westley stood abruptly. “You two. Training ring. Now,” he ordered. The violence in his voice made the bond between them purr. It was too easy.
The brothers looked at each other and smiled, clinking their glasses together before downing the contents. The scraping of their chairs rang through the hall as they stood to follow Westley from the room.
Solveig hung back so she could walk with Gerrie and Conalle, the two of them giggling like school younglings.
“So . . . how was it? I mean, despite the fact that you didn’t actually get some, I assume you got a little?” Gerrie tried to whisper, but her voice carried. Easta turned to shoot her a smile, and Solveig clamped her mouth shut.
“Oh, come on, Sol, give us the dirty details!” Conalle cried.
If I had known Conalle was going to ask you for details, I would’ve been far more giving, Westley said to her.
“It was fine. Nothing to tell,” Solveig told Conalle.
I loathe you, Westley said.
No you don’t.
At least tell him it was the best orgasm you’ve ever had.
But I didn’t have any orgasms, she teased.
And whose fault is that?
Definitely yours.
“Fine?” Easta called back. “I taught my brother better than that!”
“I’m pretty sure there’s a way you could have phrased that so it didn’t sound incestuous,” Westley huffed.
Solveig laughed, more lighthearted than she’d been in a while.
Just think of what a mind-blowing orgasm we could accomplish, he insisted, catching on to her growing happiness.
It’s a theory we could probably test, she said, the voice of her mind turning sultry. In eighty-eight days.
He looked back, hunger in his expression. Lustful glances indeed.
Don’t tempt me, Sol. The only reason I’m holding out is because I respect you so gods damned much. But if you tease me . . .
Solveig laughed, though her core clenched at the thought. She had no doubt it would be a fantastic orgasm.
“You’ll be happy to know, Easta, that if I had let him, he would have given me the best orgasm of my life,” she said simply. Westley choked, and Viggo pounded him on the back as the group laughed.
“Oh, everyone list your top ten orgasms!” Conalle called.
“Well since West hasn’t had the chance yet, then probably—” Solveig began. Westley turned on his heel and marched right up to her, slamming his mouth to hers.
Don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence, he threatened as he claimed her mouth.
She melted at the first sweep of his tongue. This bond was making her soft.
Are you always going to be this jealous?
No, as much as you seem to believe it, I’m not an asshole. It’s the incomplete bond, and you know that. Now shut up and kiss me, witch.
Solveig couldn’t argue with that, so she threw herself into the kiss, moving her mouth against his, claiming him right back.
Noren coughed. “This is so much worse than the heated looks.”
“Speak for yourself,” Conalle said, a huge smile spreading across his face as Solveig wrenched herself away from Westley.
“Do you still need us here for this?” Steffen called.
Westley tore himself from Solveig, back to the front of the group, leading the way outside.
Eighty-eight days.