Chapter 86
“This is not the right way!” Westley tried to tell her for the millionth time, hitting his limit of frustration with the female in front of him. His mate was driving him crazy.
“Yes, it is,” she insisted.
“The vision showed us going around this rock to the left and then another left at the fork in the path—the fork we just turned right at.” He flung his arms out wildly.
“We already passed that part,” she said, gesturing to the path behind them. “This is where we choose this path that leads to the doors.” She swung her arm around and pointed the way she wanted to go.
“Gods, Solveig,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “We’re not there yet.”
Though time worked differently in Hel, with no day or night, exhaustion tugged at him, like coming to the end of a long day. He wanted to rest, but with their path having been shown to them, there was no slowing Solveig down.
“You’ve never been here before. I know where we’re going.”
“You didn’t know when we first got here!”
“Maybe it’s because I got all turned around saving your sorry ass from the fucking lake!”
“Bullshit. You had no idea where you were going, even before that.”
“And then we saw the path in the vision, and now I know,” she said, her anger rising to meet his.
“I watched the same fucking vision, Solveig, and this,” he said, gesturing to the path in front of them, “is not the right way.”
“Yes, it is,” she said, turning on her heel without waiting for him, clearly done with their argument.
He didn’t let her get far—he reached out and grabbed the back of her neck, spinning her around to bring her body into his, holding her firmly though she tried to free herself.
“You stubborn fucking female,” he growled, slamming his mouth down to hers. She met his ferocity, gripping his clothes and yanking him closer. He moved his hands from her neck as their mouths battled for control.
The animal instincts inside him demanded domination, but she wouldn’t submit freely. He purred at the thought.
He hoisted her legs around his waist and slammed her back against a rock, pushing his hips into hers.
Ignoring her protests and her attempt to bring him back, he moved his mouth from hers.
Westley was done waiting, and with how her body began to move against him, so was she. He smiled into her neck, his canines aching, and without warning, they sank into her, getting more of her blood on his tongue.
Everything he’d been searching for his entire life made sense at that moment. It was all to get here, to get to her.
He would do it all again for this moment.
“Fuck,” she hissed.
Her blood filled him, her storm sailed through his ocean of magic, stirring it, awakening it from its slumber.
He’d never bitten anyone before that day in Idavoll when she’d goaded him.
Females had tried to get him to, but he’d never even wanted it. He hadn’t been able to imagine wanting to drink someone’s blood, even in the throes of passion when his instincts were most prominent. But with Solveig’s blood on his tongue, he never wanted anything else again.
Except maybe the other parts of her body.
His hands cupped her ass as she moved against his thick length—it was straining painfully against his pants.
Westley pulled his mouth from her neck, licking the wound but growling in pleasure at the fresh marks—his marks. She was his, his inner animal growled.
“You know what’s good about you taking us the wrong way,” he muttered into her mouth, barely out of reach when she tried to nip at him.
Her jaw snapped shut with an audible sound, her teeth grinding. She squeezed her legs around him, her fingers gripping his hair.
“We are not going the wrong way,” she said through clenched teeth, her eyes darkening with lust and anger.
His growl turned into a moan as she surged forward to capture his mouth again, pulling him in, controlling every part of this kiss.
He managed to pull back enough to say, “I noticed a spot a little ways back that could provide us with some shelter.” He left the idea floating between them. She went preternaturally still.
“Is this your way of trying to get me to go back the other way?” she hissed, narrowing her eyes.
He laughed darkly. “If I was going to use my powers of persuasion, don’t you think I would have done so already?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“You’re a witch.”
He stole her mouth again, bracing her in his arms and turning to walk back the way they’d just come. The head between his thighs now called the shots as her blood infiltrated his cells.
Completed bond or not, she was a part of him.
“I can walk myself,” she muttered into his mouth.
“But I’m so much better at it than you.”
“Prick.”
He bit her lip but then stumbled. She was right. He hated it when she was right.
Her smug smile when he lowered her to her feet was enough to make him launch himself, throwing her over his shoulder. She squirmed against him, and he laughed as he jogged back up the path. If this got them going back the correct way, that was just a bonus.
“Did you not learn your lesson the first time you had me like this?” she hissed, giving up her struggle. She was strong and powerful, but she could not fight him from this position.
“I’m counting on the fact that you want my cock inside you more than you want to stab me,” he said, giving her waist a squeeze.
“Debatable,” she mumbled. She jostled until a sharp pinprick hit the spot, exactly where she had stabbed him before.
She didn’t press hard enough to wound him, just to let him know it was there.
“Don’t you dare,” he warned.
“Put me down,” she ordered. His cock hardened. Was there anything about her he didn’t find arousing?
“I’ll put you down when I’m ready to, General.”
“I thought you enjoyed breathing,” she said with a sigh, digging the knife deeper.
“If you think your threats deter me, you are wrong yet again.”
They finally reached the little outcrop of rocks. Westley barely had time to throw her off his shoulder before she had a chance to strike him. He kept her in his arms, though, raising a brow at the dagger poised in the air.
“I do learn from my lessons, witch,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. “And this time, I don’t plan on being the one out of breath.”
He didn’t give her a chance to protest, taking her through the hole in the rock and laying her down, perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary. She glared, but he was too busy to care.
Kneeling between her legs, he took his time running his hands down her body. He undid his leathers and took off his shirt, enjoying the feral look in her eye as she raked her gaze over him.
He grinned as he worked to remove her clothing next, gripping her by the ankles and pulling her down so she was flat on her back. When he stood to undo his pants, her body froze and the scent of fear washed over him, dousing his arousal.
“What’s wrong?” he said, halting his movements and kneeling again, bracing his large hands on her thighs as she scrambled to sit up, her eyes wide and chest heaving.
She swallowed and tried to speak but couldn’t. Alarm went through his body and he whipped his head around, looking for the threat. When he turned back to her, she was staring with a mixture of apology and fear.
Fear.
It was him. In this place.
She was scared of him.
He removed his hands and backed away.
“I am so sorry, Solveig,” he said, shame filling him. If he hadn’t been thinking with his cock, he would have realized that a cave wasn’t the right place for this—that she might have this reaction. Fuck.
He watched her collect herself as she closed her eyes and took three deep breaths.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked. Helplessness was not something he was used to. He didn’t want to make it worse. She hesitated only a moment before reaching a hand out to him, her eyes still closed.
“Just hold me,” she whispered.
The rocks scraped his knees as he crawled over to her, not hesitating to wrap her in his arms, and brought her into his lap. He listened to the pounding of her heart and his stomach clenched.
He did this to her.
And thanks to Lake Nastrond, he knew exactly how deep the pain went.
Westley held her tightly, and to his undeserving thankfulness, she held him back as the scent of her fear dissipated.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair.
“I know,” she said softly. “West, I—”
Their heads whipped to the back of the cave at the sound of crumbling rock.
“What was that?”
“I have no idea,” she whispered. She handed Westley his shirt and they slowly began to dress, never taking their eyes off the back of the cave.
They began backing out, not wanting to disturb whatever beast lay in its depths. They’d almost made it to the opening when four brilliant red eyes shone through the shadows and terror struck Westley’s heart.
Good thing we didn’t get caught with our pants down, Solveig said.
A paw stepped from the darkness, then another.
Really? Is this your way of saying, “I told you so?”
If this is what I think it is, then yes, I told you so. This is definitely the right path. Solveig lunged but not away—she lunged towards the giant hound that leapt out of the darkness at them.
Garmr, the hound that guarded Hel, pounced towards them, its enormous jaw filled with snapping rows of teeth, his blood-soaked coat of fur a horrible sight to behold.
Do we need to slay this mythical creature too, or can we just run? Westley asked, dodging a snap of rotting teeth.
You don’t think we can kill it, even after the Jormungandr? she asked, brow scrunching.
Considering the sea monster almost killed us both, I don’t want to chance it.
Her smile was feral. Where’s the fun in that? She took another step towards the beast, her dagger humming with electricity.
The fun will be in living to tell the tale, Sol.
She rolled her eyes. If you think we can outrun it, I’ll have to question your intelligence.
What other option do we have?
Solveig looked around the cave and an idea sparked in her eyes.
I don’t like that look. He really, really didn’t like that look.
Yes you do.
They jumped apart as Garmr’s paw swung between them.
No, that look had me swinging off a cliff over a chasm and smashing into a wall.
She pinned him with a glare. That was your bad idea, not mine.
Alright, smartass, what is it this time?
I’m going to distract it while you get to the top of the cave, and then we’ll collapse it. Just give me a shout and I’ll book it to the exit.
Westley gaped. Are you fucking kidding me?
Do you have a better idea?
He didn’t like when she asked him that. No, but that doesn’t mean we’re doing this one!
You’re welcome to run. I’m sure you’ll be a nice little treat for the monster from Hel.
I loathe you.
Solveig laughed, and her racing adrenaline seeped through the bond.
Fine, we’ll do it your way, but I’ll be the bait and you go collapse the cave, he surrendered, dodging the very sharp teeth still snapping at them. Solveig ducked and rolled right under the belly of the beast, dragging her sword through the coarse fur. It roared with pain.
Too late, she said. Get to the entrance.
Is that an order, General?
You bet your ass it is.
You love my ass.
I do, so don’t get it killed.
Would he ever win any kind of argument with this female?
He doubted it but went to do as he was told. She was going to find out very soon how demanding he could be, and then she’d be begging to follow his command. He wished he had the full force of his magic—it would make this so much easier.
It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on anything else, but there was a Helhound after his mate and it was not the right time for those thoughts, so he worked quickly, climbing up the side of the cave.
He worked his way from back to front, ensuring the cave didn’t collapse prematurely. He hammered fissures in the rock with his sword and worked on the weak spots, slashing and loosening the pieces.
The sounds of Solveig fighting the beast below urged him on.
Almost done? she called. He grunted with the effort of loosening a boulder, the ground shifting beneath him.
Yeah, start making your way to the front. And so help me, Solveig, if you die because of this hair-brained idea of yours, I will never let you live it down. I’ll spend our eternity here in Hel reminding you every day that it was your fault that we ended up trapped here, that you—
I got it, thanks for the vote of confidence. She sent him a picture of her raising her middle finger.
He prayed to the gods out of habit and slammed the hilt of his sword into the weakest spot on the ceiling of the cave.
The ground rumbled beneath him as rocks began to crumble, slowly at first. He only had a moment to jump out of the way, landing on solid rock next to the cave, watching the entrance and praying he’d see his mate come through.
Where the fuck are you?
No answer.
Solveig!
The last of the rocks came crashing down, a cloud of grey and black dust puffing up. The Hel beast roared, trapped inside the cavern. It most likely had other ways to escape—tunnels that led around the realm—but he couldn’t get out here anymore.
“Solveig!” Westley yelled, jumping down, fear trickling through his veins when she still didn’t reply. Dust clouded the air, and he covered his mouth as he continued his search.
Fuck, Sol, where are you?