“No, but I can tell you a part of it,” she said carefully.
“A soul of formidable power joins one cloaked in light and shadow.
A war primed and ready to wage. A battle of blood may turn the tide.
A heart’s promise lost, sacrificed to the sea, where fogs and mists surround.
The suns shall fall, ne’er to rise again, if the spell remains unbound.”
Silence filled their room as Solveig completed the prophecy, the words hanging in the air. She propped herself up to look at his face. His brows were furrowed, eyes far away. She wished she could tell him more, wished she could give him the rest, nonsense though it still seemed to her.
His lips moved silently, as if tracing the lines of the prophecy, testing them out on his tongue.
That tongue. She’d been so close to finding out what that tongue could do.
An ache grew between her legs, and Westley’s attention snapped back to her. Her abrupt shift in thought yanked him from the seriousness of their conversation.
“And just what are you thinking about?”
“Nothing really,” she said slyly, prepared to lay her next trap.
“Nothing?”
Westley’s hand, which had been lazily drawing circles on the skin at her side, moved to stroke down her leg. He gripped her thigh, sinking his fingers into the muscles, and hitched her leg higher, pressing her sensitive centre against him.
“Was it something like this?” He dragged his broad hand up her back as he brought her closer. They shared the same breath, and she inhaled his scent of rain and salty seas.
Her core throbbed, and their arousal filled the air as it became charged with need, crackling with the force of it. Westley groaned, and in a swift movement, flipped her onto her back.
“I have to be inside you,” he begged, kissing down her chest, lingering on her breasts. “We can sort everything out later, and I don’t care what a fucking nonsense prophecy says—nothing and no one could take me from you.”
Goddess, she wanted that too. Despite her reservations, despite her logic, she almost gave in.
“Spread those pretty legs for me, witch,” he hissed as he dragged his hands up the insides of her thighs. “Be my mate.”
Before Solveig could lose her resolve, she clamped her legs tight.
“Not yet.”
“Notthisagain,”Westleygrumbled as he flopped onto his back. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he might die. That, or his cock would explode—he didn’t know which was worse.
Solveig laughed, and it did nothing to subdue his need for her. The sound of her joy was a calm sea after a storm.
She moved to sit on him, straddling his hips. He pushed up, letting her feel how hard he was, how much he wanted her. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and he watched her neck as she swallowed. It was good to know she was struggling, that he was affecting her almost as much as she was affecting him.
“Then there’s the matter of my revenge,” she said. The sudden change in her tone told him everything he needed to know.
This wasn’t going to be a battle he won easily, but that was okay. He was used to fighting for the people he loved. And he would fight for her until his dying breath. Even if that included fighting against her sometimes.
“Oh?” Wary of that glint in her eyes, he moved to the edge of the bed, preparing himself.
“I’ve come up with the perfect way to make you pay,” she said as she knelt between his knees, sliding her hands up his thighs. She cupped him through his pants.
He swallowed. “And what’s that?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Eighty-nine days,” she whispered as she leaned in to kiss his chest and over to his shoulder.
“Eighty-nine days?” he whispered, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he savoured the drag of her tongue on his skin. Then he realized what she meant.
