Chapter 57
Westley led them to the training ring. His body was alight with too much energy. He needed to burn off some steam, and since he couldn’t take Solveig into their room and claim her over and over again, beating the Elven brothers would have to do.
He didn’t hesitate when he got to the ring, leaping over the ropes before turning to face Vali and Steffen.
They came in after him and assumed a fighting stance, taunting expressions on their faces.
This may have been a joke to them, but Westley hadn’t come to play.
And he didn’t need the rituals of the Vanir camp.
He gripped the brothers by the throat, one in each hand, and threw them across the ring.
They slammed into the posts with a loud crack and scrambled to their feet, all traces of humour vanished.
Though he’d like to syphon some of his magic off, he’d fight fairly, without it. For now.
It was only two against one—he’d need far more opponents to feel outnumbered. And though Steffen had bested Solveig, they’d cheated. Or at least, their mother had. There was no way the Elven prince would have beaten her without her injury.
Their attacks weren’t half bad, but they weren’t polished or precise, meaning they were not used to working together. Solveig cheered loudly, though he couldn’t quite tell if she was cheering for him or the brothers. Knowing her, she was cheering for them just to piss him off.
He wasn’t proud of the fact that it was working.
Damn unfulfilled bond.
The fight went on until Westley’s energy settled and his mind cleared. He hated to recognize the brothers’ efforts, helping some of his aggression ebb, and he was appreciative of that—but not enough to let them win.
With a kick to Vali’s chest, he whirled around to pin Steffen down, water snaking around his limbs.
Fine, he was going to finish it unfairly. His magic urged him to kill the suitor who had planned to marry Solveig—planned to take her away from him.
The water slithered around Steffen’s limbs and up to his neck, hovering on the edge of Steffen’s mouth. Westley sent it inside, revelling in his power to end the Elven’s life.
“Westley!” Vali yelled, barrelling towards him. Westley sent a wave of water to knock the other Elven prince back.
Steffen thrashed uselessly against his restraints. Westley’s magic purred at the violence of his revenge.
“This is for thinking you could take what’s mine.” His voice didn’t sound like his own when he doubled down on his efforts to drown the Elven prince on dry land.
His ears pricked as he picked up the sound of someone coming at him from behind. The scent of her enveloped him, lowering his guard. His mate wouldn’t attack him.
He should have known better.
Her dagger found its favourite spot on his neck as she pressed her lithe body against his, her chest flush with his back.
Let him go, she ordered.
He only growled. She dug the knife in, spilling some of his blood in warning.
“Let him go, Prince,” she said out loud. He couldn’t resist her commanding words.
Westley dropped his magic and Steffen curled onto his side, coughing up water, gasping for air. His brother came and thumped his back, helping him force the liquid from his lungs. Westley watched the scene smugly.
Solveig’s dagger was still pressed to his throat, but he caught her by surprise, grabbing her wrist and whipping her around with her arm twisted behind her back. In one fell swoop, he’d switched their positions.
“You spill my blood to save another male?” he snapped.
“I’ll spill your blood any time I damn well please,” she hissed back, throwing her hips and knocking him off balance. He stumbled back, not quick enough to trap her again before she whirled on him.
“And what of your blood, witch? Am I allowed to spill yours when I deem necessary?”
“If I’m about to make a mistake, blinded by my animalistic instincts, then yes.” She stood straight and turned her back in a blatant affront.
Westley instinctively charged, sinking his canines into her neck. She gasped as her blood met his tongue.
The bond flared to life—his water and her light burst out of them, wrapping around them in a cocoon of shimmering magic. It swirled, Solveig’s light flickering as if dancing on the waves before diving deep into the depths of a dark ocean.
Take, take, take, the bond urged them.
In one brief moment of clarity, Westley was able to rip his mouth away, but the taste of her blood, of their bond, of her, would be forever imprinted in his body.
He swallowed, and his magic expanded beyond the bounds confining it as it absorbed her essence.
Solveig turned to stare, her eyes wide with need, with understanding. He lowered his forehead to hers and slowly brought his mouth to the wound on her neck, licking one more drop before sending his magic to soothe and heal.
Only the scars of his bite remained, and the bond settled—though still incomplete—satisfied that she was marked. When he met her gaze, she smirked knowingly.
You did that on purpose, he said, surprised.
If you didn’t claim me in some way, you’d kill everyone who looked at me wrong, and while I’m insanely turned on by that, I don’t think our allies would be very happy.
How noble of you. He licked a drop of blood off his lips. Solveig’s eyes followed the movement, her gaze darkening.
I do what I can. She reached up to grasp his face with both of her hands. Are you okay?
Yes, I am better. Thank you, he said sincerely, kissing her gently. She noted his hesitation.
Something else on your mind? she asked.
You let me bite you.
Solveig raised a brow. And?
What made you decide to allow me that honour?
My heart.
Fuck, he was a puddle at her feet. She had so much control over him and she damn well knew it.
Now keep your asshole behaviour to a minimum from now on, she said, lightening the mood.
No promises. He laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders, craving the contact. They walked over to where Steffen and Vali still sat on the ground, recovering from Westley’s attack.
He reached a hand out to Steffen and helped him to his feet. He didn’t let go of the Elven’s hand right away, squeezing it a bit too hard. The Elven didn’t flinch, and Westley’s respect for him grew.
Westley pulled him in so they were almost nose to nose. “The wedding is off.”
Though Solveig had confirmed it, he had to make sure the Elven knew as well.
Steffen grinned. “The wedding is off. She belongs to you.”
Westley shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. She may be my mate, but it is I who belongs to her.”
The bond hummed with satisfaction, settling even deeper into their souls.