59. Willow
Chapter 59
Willow
P redawn light filters through arched windows in Bodin’s room. The sun’s not up yet, but soon. One or two turns of the hourglass, perhaps. My body still hums with residual heat—its needs woke me. Beside me, Bodin’s bare chest rises and falls in shallow breaths, his smooth, muscular body twisted in rumpled silk sheets.
I prop myself up on an elbow and take in the room. Dark, polished wood panels line the walls, inlaid with intricate filigree that seems to writhe in the dim light. Weapons of various designs hang on the walls—swords, daggers, and things I can’t name—their blades gleaming with a sinister beauty. A whetstone rests on a nearby table, its surface worn smooth from countless blades honed.
The air is thick with the mingled scents of leather, spice, and sex. Our torn clothes lie scattered across the floor. The massive bed has four posters. I never noticed that last night. Its dark wooden frame is carved with arcane symbols. Torn silk hangings drape limply from the canopy, bearing the brunt of our lovemaking. I remember clutching them at some point.
As I turn, another wave of heat ripples through me, igniting a fresh surge of desire. I bite my lip, suppressing a groan. “Well-damn it,” I whisper, “how long will this last?”
I give Bodin a needy look, my gaze tracing the sharp lines of his face, softened in sleep. I resist the urge to run my fingers through his braids. The sight of this brutal warrior, vulnerable and at peace, stirs something profound within me. Shaking my head, I roll away, but his arm snakes around my waist, tugging me back. I feel his muscles contract and flex as he fits his body flush to mine.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he grumbles, breath hot against my ear.
“I should clean up,” I manage to say, my voice breathy. “We can’t stay in bed forever.”
“Why not?” Bodin licks my new mating mark, and I shiver. His hand glides down my stomach. “You’re still burning up. Let me take care of your needs.”
“I’m fine.” A wiggle of anticipation. A groan.
His fingers curl between my legs and swipe through my slick folds.
“Fucking liar,” he nips my ear and I shiver. “So wet for me.”
The head of his cock is pushing between my thighs, nudging closer to my entrance. He raises my leg to accommodate a quick thrust. I gasp at the sudden fullness. Groan as he pulls out and drives back in. Pleasure scores my insides. Each punishing thrust hits me hard, deep. He locks me in against him with one arm, fondling my breast, while the other braces my thigh, lifting it higher.
“Touch yourself,” he growls. “My hands are occupied.”
I let go of embarrassment over my insatiable desire sometime last night. He doesn’t care how badly I need this. Watching me touch myself makes him harder. I slide my fingers down, groan when I connect with my clit. He watches over my shoulder, fucks me harder. When his teeth clamp down on my neck, adding to the sense of being owned, my orgasm hits. Hard. I lose all sense of time, my body, my life—except where he connects with me, grounding against me, filling me with his release.
We lie there wasted—gathering our breaths and feeling so good.
“What a fun way to wake up,” I mutter, smiling at the delicious ache.
“Get used to it,” he replies, lips against my upper spine. “I am devoting myself to exploring this . . . fun with you.”
His words bring a flurry of memories from last night. His brother, the Seventh. His shame. His heartache. Theirs. I roll to face him and find raw anguish on his face. I cup his jaw, and he leans into my touch.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur, rubbing my thumb over his Guardian teardrop. “That was so cruel of Maebh to do.”
His brows meet in the middle, but he doesn’t speak. He is tense and still.
“Are you okay, Bodin?”
I don’t think he’s even breathing. He won’t open his eyes. Maybe he can’t with me staring at his face. I duck my head beneath his jaw and kiss his neck.
“It’s okay if you’re not,” I whisper. “I’ll hold you until you are.” And then, because I haven’t said it, I add, “I love you.”
His harsh exhale tickles my hair. Strong arms wrap around my shoulders and squeeze. I hear his sharp inhale a few times as if he’s trying to say something.
“You don’t have to say it back.” I pat his abs. “I just want you to know how I feel.”
“It’s not that I can’t say it. Love is not the right word for us. Love is . . . a single muscle pumping in the body, tiny and insignificant at its core.”
I snort. “Thanks for shitting on my?—”
He growls and rolls on top of me, cupping my face with his large hands so I look directly into his wild, dark, and expressive eyes. “We spent eons trying to understand love. We ripped bodies apart, flayed them to pieces, devoured hearts, and were so disappointed. This was the apparent home of love—yet it was . . . nothing. I would keep trophies of those parts, pieces of my obsessions, and hang them in my room to remind myself that love does not exist.” A sharp, incredulous laugh huffs out of him. “And it doesn’t. Not amongst the pieces, but . . .” His gaze hardens on me. “It comes to the pieces. From the feeling of being surrounded, contained, safe, accepted, and wanted. It comes from the thing stopping those pieces from falling apart. You are our skin , Willow. And if we ever lose you, we?—”
I press my lips to his, stopping his train of words. I don’t want to talk about maybes. I don’t want to talk about loss. Not now. He tenses at first but then melts into me. Our kiss is tender, sweet, and all those things he explained. In his weird Sluagh way.
A throat clears, and we both freeze. I turn to find Legion standing in the doorway, his imposing figure silhouetted against the dim hall light. I scramble out from Bodin and find a sheet to cover my naked body. It’s not fair he sees this when he can’t partake. His vow means so much more now I know why he made it. His dark eyes flick between us, a fleeting look of longing, and then his usual mask of stoic control.
“I hate to interrupt,” he says, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. “We have a situation.”
“What’s happened?” Bodin sits up, tensing.
Legion steps further into the room, the shadows seeming to cling to him. “Puck has triggered the countdown to the trials. Willow will forfeit her place if she doesn’t arrive at the arena before sunrise.”
The words hit me like a bucket of water, temporarily dousing the heat. Bodin leaps from the bed, his naked form rippling with barely contained energy as he strides towards Legion. Well-damn, his butt is fine. Two perfect, muscular globes of—I need to nibble.
No . I blink, shaking off my train of thought. It’s time to focus.
Not fuck-us.
Focus, Willow. Focus . This is serious. I fan my face.
“This ends now.” Bodin’s growl takes on an inhuman quality that sends shivers down my spine. “We take out Puck.”
Legion holds up a hand, his expression grim. “It’s not that simple. The signal’s been sent. All of Avorlorna knows. The fort stadium is filling, and the magical timeline has been triggered. You know as well as I do once it starts; it can’t be stopped until the final trial is complete—or time runs out.”
Bodin begins to pace, his movements fluid and predatory. The floorboards creak ominously beneath his feet, and the weapons tremble on the walls. He shoots rapid-fire alternatives, each cut down by Legion’s calm logic.
As they argue, my mind races. The trials. Emrys. My friends. Fox. The heat still simmers beneath my skin, demanding attention. It’s all too much, yet I know I must face it head-on.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself.
“Geraldine and Max?” I ask, my voice more assertive than I feel. “The final leg of the pilgrimage went okay?”
“Well enough.” Legion’s eyes soften almost imperceptibly on me. “Cricket is rousing them. They will eat and prepare in their quarters. Prepare and meet us in the upper-level dining room. We will have sustenance ready for you. A little over one turn of the hourglass remains before you present yourself at the fort.”
I nod, throwing off the sheet the moment he leaves.
I wash and dress quickly, but my skin burns with residual heat. My thoughts keep derailing to places they shouldn’t go. Bodin paces the room like a caged beast, his muscular form taut with tension. He rattles off information he thinks will aid me in the trials, his deep voice a constant rumble in the background.
“Remember, the first trial is always about facing your fears. Don’t let their illusions trick you,” he says, then abruptly stops, growling, “I’m going to tear Emrys apart for this.” His eyes flash dangerously before he resumes his lecture.
After securing my belt and fitting my sword, I flick my silver hair out of the way and stop his ramblings with another kiss. The tactic seems to work quite well.
“I won’t retain this information,” I murmur against his mouth. “There’s no point wearing yourself out. If I don’t know by now, I don’t know.”
He pulls back, his brow furrowed. “You’re underprepared.”
“So is everyone else.”
Bodin grips my hips hard enough to hurt. “You could forfeit. You could withdraw from the trials.”
“Is Peggy even officially out yet?” I meet his gaze. “We could also win, right? And then I can bring Fox back earlier than planned. We can all be together.”
As long as we remain alive.
Having clothes on now is stifling, trapping my heat. But at least I don’t feel so unsatisfied. I fan my face to cool down. His nostrils flare, picking up my scent.
“Fox wouldn’t want you to go in like this,” he grumbles.
“I can’t not turn up because I smell like a sex-meal. There will be consequences, surely.”
His flash of annoyance means I’m right. He doesn’t elaborate; he just moves on to the next idea. “Cait could still find the mirror.”
“Do we want to take that risk?”
Then he hits me in the heart. “What about your parents? You said you wanted to talk to them. We can activate your portal stone and go.”
“You bastard.” I take a deep, shuddering breath. “I can’t—not before the trials. It will feel like I’m saying goodbye.”
“Willow,” he sighs, gathering me into his arms. “I just want you to be sure.”
His question is loaded with more meaning. I search his eyes and see the anguish and fear. His identity revolves around his need to protect, and he can’t be with me during the trials.
“I will have my team with me—we have each other.” I pat his shoulder. “Come on, I’m starving. This wolf can’t start slaying without food in her belly.”