“I’m not saying you didn’t go through Hel. I know the look of horror in a person’s eyes. You’re not ready to talk about it yet, and you might never be.” Solveig waited for him to continue, but he only sat there holding her hand. Comforting her.
Giving him the only gesture she could manage, she squeezed his hand. He gave her a small smile that was probably as foreign to him as speaking was to her. She thought he would leave, but instead, he closed his eyes and sat there with her. Never letting go, nor did she pull away.
She drifted off into an easy sleep for the first time in ninety-five days.
ThegrassoutsideSolveig’stent would likely not grow back as Latham stomped back and forth, patience dwindling. It had been a week since her return and Laeknir still hadn’t let anyone else in to see her.
Every day he paced outside until the crotchety healer barked at him to “go be useless somewhere else.”
Like he had every day, he peeked his head in when he first arrived that morning, but this time, no bearded face and bald head blocked his view. He was surprised to see Laeknir passed out in a chair beside Solveig’s bed, one hand stretched out, holding hers.
Solveig’s face was peaceful as she slept and he hadn’t wanted to interrupt them. He could wait a bit longer, but he would insist on seeing her today. But an hour had passed, and he was getting impatient.
Gerrie sat on the ground near the entrance, reading one of the mortal books Solveig loved so much.
“You’re making it hard for me to concentrate,” she whispered.
“I don’t really care,” he said without looking at her.
“Have you read these books? I used to make fun of Sol for reading them, but they’re so addictive. I read at least ten while she was gone.”
“Yeah, I’ve read a couple. Just for the sex though,” he said absentmindedly.
Gerrie snorted. “Of course. I never know what I’m going to get when I start reading a new one. It could be full of adventure, magic, or the most innocent romance, and then the next book has me clutching my pearls.”
“Yeah right. I’ve heard your bedroom tales.” Latham grinned at her. He was enjoying the unspoken truce they’d formed since Solveig’s return. “Where’s that one on the scale?” he asked, nodding to the book in her hands.
“Definitely a pearl clutcher,” she said with a sly grin.
“Read some out loud.”
“No way. Come read this scene. I bet it’ll make you blush.”
Unable to resist the urge to prove her wrong, Latham took a seat beside her and Gerrie held the book out so they could read together.
It started out tame with a woman and a man on a bed. But Latham’s cheeks heated as a second and third man joined them. He tilted his head, trying to figure out exactly how what they were doing was possible. Gerrie laughed as he cleared his throat in discomfort before chuckling with her.
At that moment, Laeknir exited the tent catching them giggling like school witchlings over anatomy pictures in lesson books. He peered over their shoulders, and before Gerrie could snap the book closed, Laeknir read aloud in a whisper, “She was filled to the brim with cocks ...” Latham’s face burned brighter. Even Gerrie’s dark cheeks flushed.
“If you two are done acting like wanton youths who’ve just hit their maturity, Solveig is awake.” He turned on his heel and walked back intothe tent. Since he usually told them to leave, Latham assumed this meant they were finally allowed in.
He scrambled to his feet with Gerrie right at his back. They pulled the flap open and walked in to find Solveig propped up on pillows, chugging down another cup of the nasty drink.
It was just called the Drink. Any Vanir would know exactly what you were referring to, so it never needed a proper name.
“You look better,” Gerrie said cheerfully as she took the chair Laeknir had vacated beside Solveig’s bed. Solveig gave her a little smile.
“I brought you a book,” Gerrie continued, handing Solveig the paperback. “I picked the dirtiest one I could find.” She winked.
Solveig took the book carefully, almost reverently, and flipped through the pages. Her eyes caught on some of the words and snapped the pages shut immediately, passing it back to Gerrie with a head shake. Solveig’s brow broke into a sweat, her eyes darting back and forth.
Latham took the book from Gerrie and flipped through it.
“What’s wrong with it, Sol?” Gerrie asked gently. Solveig swallowed and opened her mouth but closed it again when no sound came out. Gerrie glanced at Laeknir with an unspoken question, and he shook his head in silent answer. She still hadn’t spoken.
Latham scanned the book for any clue as to why it had upset her so much. His insides turned to ice.
So quietly he wasn’t sure anyone could hear him, he asked, “Did they rap—erm, touch you?” Though he spoke softly, his voice was vicious. Even he could hear his anger. Solveig blinked rapidly and slowly shook her head. He let out a relieved breath and studied the book again.
