Chapter 54
“Not this again,” Westley grumbled as he flopped onto his back. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he might die. That, or his cock would explode—he didn’t know which was worse.
Solveig laughed, and it did nothing to subdue his need for her. The sound of her joy was a calm sea after a storm.
She moved to sit on him, straddling his hips.
He pushed up, letting her feel how hard he was, how much he wanted her.
Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and he watched her neck as she swallowed.
It was good to know she was struggling, that he was affecting her almost as much as she was affecting him.
“Then there’s the matter of my revenge,” she said. The sudden change in her tone told him everything he needed to know.
This wasn’t going to be a battle he won easily, but that was okay. He was used to fighting for the people he loved. And he would fight for her until his dying breath. Even if that included fighting against her sometimes.
“Oh?” Wary of that glint in her eyes, he moved to the edge of the bed, preparing himself.
“I’ve come up with the perfect way to make you pay,” she said as she knelt between his knees, sliding her hands up his thighs. She cupped him through his pants.
He swallowed. “And what’s that?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Eighty-nine days,” she whispered as she leaned in to kiss his chest and over to his shoulder.
“Eighty-nine days?” he whispered, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he savoured the drag of her tongue on his skin. Then he realized what she meant.
He gripped her by her shaking shoulders and glared down at her. “Eighty-nine days?!” he repeated as she laughed. Diabolical.
“Seems fitting, doesn’t it?”
There was no point in arguing, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try.
“No.”
“You don’t think that making you wait for the same length of time you held me hostage in a cave and allowed a sadist to torture me is sufficient? You’re probably right . . .”
His heart leapt, and the hope must have shown on his face, because she laughed.
“You actually are a witch. I loathe you.”
She laughed again as he grabbed her and sat her on his lap.
“You don’t loathe me.”
He leaned into her caress as she stroked his face, enjoying the feel of her hands in his beard. It was the longest he’d gone without in a while, thanks to his travels.
Bracing his forehead on her arm, he mumbled, “I hate it when you’re right. You’re quite pleased with yourself, aren’t you?” Her smugness filtered through their bond.
“I am.” She placed her hands on the sides of his face, the humour receding from her eyes. “And as much fun as it is going to be to torture you, I want to keep you safe for as long as I possibly can.”
His throat constricted with emotion so heavy he couldn’t speak.
Even though he was holding her in his arms and she wasn’t marrying Steffen, she still hadn’t said the words he desperately needed to hear. Does this mean you accept our bond?
Her gaze was piercing. As soon as I figured it out, there was no going back for me.
Do you . . . Are you . . . Insecurity flooded him, the tips of his ears heating. He couldn’t look at her.
“West.” She tugged on his face, but he closed his eyes, needing to brace for whatever she was about to say. She may want him, want his body, and they had this connection. But that didn’t mean she wanted him. Not in the way he loved her.
“Westley Ulvar Erikson.” At the sound of his full name—he hadn’t realized she knew it—on her lips, he looked up. Her eyes were glassy. It was instinct to swipe away the escaped tear with his thumb.
“You were mine long before we ever chose each other. And I do. I choose you. Even without the bond.” He’d never heard her speak so gently. His eyes stung, and despite his efforts, he couldn’t hold the tears back. She kissed them away.
And for once, the bond didn’t present as something outside of themselves, as the thing that pulled them together. No, he felt her—her heart, her soul. He was hers as much as she was his.
“If you choose me, why must you have revenge?” He was only partly teasing, but that small seed of doubt still lingered.
She surprised him by placing a kiss on his lips, one that started gentle but turned hard and fierce as passion took over.
“I’m scared,” she admitted when they resurfaced.
“Of what?”
“The prophecy . . .”
“The prophecy could change.”
“Here’s the thing,” she said, forcing him to tear his gaze away from her gloriously irresistible body. He sat up as her swell of emotion rocked into him. “I will not allow my heart’s promise to die.”
Westley slid his hands to either side of her face and into the hair at the back of her neck, pulling her close.
“I am not going to die,” he swore.
“You can’t promise that,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his.
He sat back to look her in the eye. “You think that if we complete the mating bond, that it will trigger this chain of events?”
“Yes, and I would rather be unmated than see this prophecy fulfilled.”
“Solveig, love, you’re giving too much power to these words. Whether or not we are mated, I am already yours.”
“And you underestimate it. This is not some prophecy to be taken lightly, it’s . . .” Solveig struggled to find the words.
“What?”
“I can’t.” She took a deep breath in. She sagged into him, her chest heaving.
Alarm rang through him when a tug yanked on her lifeforce. “What’s happening?”
“I can’t . . . The prophecy is strong and there are things that I am not . . .”
Westley understood then. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything else. You are forbidden to speak of it.”
Solveig let out a breath of relief and nodded. A dark weight settled onto his shoulders. A prophecy that held this much power did indeed have to be taken seriously.
“So what do we do? Because I’ll tell you something, my heart’s promise.” He looked her square in the eye. “You will not be able to resist me forever.”
He grinned as her eyes darkened, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
Nothing could hold him back from closing the distance and capturing her mouth with his.
It was all so new, but he’d never get enough of this.
Of her. Angling her head so his tongue could claim hers, she moved with him, hungry and urgent.
Solveig ripped her mouth away, their breathing heavy.
“You’re right,” she said.
“That’s a first,” he said, and they shared a laugh. “What am I right about?”
“I won’t be able to hold off forever. It’s inevitable,” she said with a sigh.
“Way to make a male feel special.”
She smacked him. “You’re an ass.”
“Says the one withholding our mating bond.” He raised his eyebrows, grinding his cock, still trapped in his pants, into her core. The effect was the opposite of what he was looking for. Instead of teasing her, he was torturing himself.
A moan escaped her and he swore. “Fuck.”
“Well stop doing that,” she ordered.
“Never.” He kissed her again, swallowing whatever she was about to say, knowing he wouldn’t like it and wanting to delay it as much as possible.
She wasn’t letting him. When she attempted to move off him, he held her firmly, not letting her get away. Even if he couldn’t have her yet, he was going to remain as close as possible until he proved himself to her.
As much as he was teasing and taunting her, when it came down to it, he respected her desire to wait, to sort things out between them.
“West,” she said through kisses. “You cannot die.”
“As you wish, General,” he said with a bite at her demanding mouth.
“And I want to prevent that for as long as possible,” she said, biting him back, drawing a small drop of blood into her mouth. They froze. Her action had been instinctual—she’d been caught up in the moment and hadn’t thought.
A wave of overwhelming urgency overcame them.
His magic became frenzied, desperate to get to her, practically crawling out of his skin to do so. His blood was on her tongue and his essence was sinking into her. His canines extended, and he pushed her away before his instincts kicked in.
She tore herself away, leaping off the bed, eyes wild, hair messy from where his hands had been. She was a goddess, and he would bow and worship her.
“Sol,” he started, but she held up her hand.
Solveig swallowed a shudder. The pull towards her was maddening. He could feel where that drop of blood had met the bond. Not enough to solidify it, but it was strengthened.
Westley felt the fatigue settle onto her shoulders, and he pulled her in close, bringing them down onto the bed and tucking her body against his. He pulled her back against his chest, where she fit perfectly.
“You’re the only thing that could break me, love,” he whispered into her ear.
He held her close as sleep took them under. The last thing he remembered was a line of the prophecy.
A heart’s promise lost, sacrificed to the sea.
The prophecy did not specify which mate would be lost.