“No, West, I said that he died for a cause based on lies and falsehoods,” she corrected.
“That’s the same thing,” Westley exclaimed.
“No, it’s not.” She laid a hand on his arm, and he fought the urge to shake it off. “Our brother was many things but most of all he was loyal. To you, to us, to Idavoll. That is as good as any reason to die, but I did not want you following in his footsteps,” she said firmly.
“You were too stubborn to see, so I had to change tactics. I softened you byshowingyou what was best for Idavoll, giving you the same fight as Souther—the fight for your people. You just didn’t realize Asgard was fighting it too.”
Westley ran his hands through his hair, which now reached past his shoulders. This was a lot to take in. When he’d thought he was a leader, he had only been a pawn in other’s games. He would not let it happen again. He would not let it happen to them.
A small knock came at the door and North gave Westley a look of warning.
As she let Steffen and Vali into the room, the tension in Westley’s shoulders strained against his shirt. Though he was finally cleaned and changed from his travel attire, he was still uncomfortable—would be uncomfortable until he could speak with Solveig.
Westley bared his teeth at Steffen, who just grinned right back like he wasn’t on the top of his kill list. He may be a pawn, but he was a pawnthat struck hard, killed ruthlessly, and most importantly, protected his mate at all costs.
He was about to lurch across the room when he felt Solveig’s hand press against the walls of his mind. It was an unconscious decision to let her in.
Listen to what they have to say.
Is that an order?
Always.
And then she was gone again.
“You’re lucky Solveig is fond of you, otherwise you would’ve taken your last breath upon entering this room,” Westley said through gritted teeth.
“I’ll have to make sure I thank her properly later,” Steffen said suggestively.
Westley growled, and North punched Steffen hard in the stomach. The Elven prince hadn’t expected it so he buckled over in pain. Westley grinned at his sister, but she was glaring at him.
“What?”
“Behave,” she ordered.
Goddess, he was letting the females in his life lead him around by the balls. North rounded on Steffen and Vali. “And you two. If you continue with your idiotic plan to rile him up, I won’t stop him the next time he goes for your throat. You should know better than to antagonise an unmated Fae.”
She spoke of him like he was a feral animal, and he hated to admit when she was right. His sister was always right. It was infuriating sometimes.
He was a wild, savage animal. The need to claim Solveig was strong now that she was aware of the bond. He was overwhelmed with it and needed to sink his teeth into her, his tongue, his co—
Focus, Solveig ordered.
Kind of hard to do right now.It was true—his mind played images for him, images from his deep imaginings inspired by their kiss and Sol’s dreams from the Southern Wilds. From when he’d helped her pleasure herself.
Am I supposed to apologize?Her voice was sharp. She was clearly still pissed.
That would be a nice change of pace.
She stuck her middle finger up and he laughed, thoroughly distracted.
“Has Solveig calmed you down?” Vali asked, now lounging on the couch in the sitting room. North sighed.
“Why are you two here?” Westley ground out, trying to be civil, though his thoughts alternated between violence and passion.
“We came to let you in on our secret.”
“Yes, you knew we were mates, and it was all a ploy to get us to admit it to each other. Bravo, you did it.” Westley’s patience with the Elven was wearing thin.
