Fear had driven a wedge between them, and only time together could remove it. Talking about it was difficult, but Westley had listened, had held her when she needed and had given her space when his presence in the dark had overwhelmed her.
Eventually her emotions had settled, and they’d lain in bed, talking deep into the night, trading battle stories and strategies for the upcoming war.
Something was coming soon, and they needed to be prepared for it.
“Do we have to go in?” Westley said, pulling her back against him. He leaned down to nip the rounded tip of her ear. “I can think of much better things than eating breakfast with this nosey lot.”
He sent a picture into her mind—of them in bed together, his hands undoing his pants. Just before they dropped, Solveig shoved the image away. She would stick to her eighty-nine-day rule, but that didn’t mean she had to make it harder for herself.
Eighty-eight days.
Westley laughed with a sigh. He took her hand, and they entered the breakfast room. The mood immediately shifted to hoots and hollers until their scent reached the table.
“Has it been so long, Aegir, that you forgot how to bed a female?” Viggo called. Conalle cuffed him upside the head.
“He tortured me, so now I’m torturing him,” Solveig said simply, catching the chocolate-filled crescent Gerrie tossed her way.
“Ooooh, dark, Sol,” Gerrie said with a grin.
“TechnicallyInever tortured you,” Westley countered, dodging the elbow Solveig jabbed into his side with a smile.
“You torture me with your presence every day,” she shot back. He kissed the top of her head in answer before he sat down and began filling a plate.
“Are you two going to be gross now?” Noren asked, no trace of humour on his face.
“Still got that stick up your ass, I see,” Solveig mumbled around a mouthful of buttery pastry. She moaned at the taste, and Westley shot her a warning look. Oh yes, this was going to be fun.
“I’m going to miss the heated gazes of hate and lust,” Conalle said with a remorseful sigh.
“I’m sure there will still be plenty of that,” Solveig assured him, laughing.
Oh really? Lustful glances?Westley quirked a brow.
Only if you’re really good.
What do I get if I’m really bad?There was a feral look in his eyes, and Solveig’s core was slick already. She couldn’t answer him and his chuckle filled her mind.
“Oooh, it’s happening already. Though it does make me jealous.” Conalle sighed again.
“I can lust after you, Con. I already know what it’s like to sleep with you, so it won’t be hard,” Viggo teased, winking. Conalle’s ears turned pink.
“You sure you want to wait?” Conalle said, turning back to her, his cheeks decidedly redder. “Remember how I said Fae lovers were to die for?” He jerked his head at Viggo and nodded vigorously.
“Hopefully this one isn’t as disappointing as the last,” Solveig said mischievously. Westley growled and she laughed, turning to him. “What, you don’t like me talking about past lovers?”
“Not if you’d like them to keep their heads,” Westley said through gritted teeth.
“We’d like to keep our heads, please,” Vali chimed in, lifting his hand in the air. Westley’s gaze snapped to the two Elven brothers.
Conalle laughed and shot a thumbs-up to Solveig, mouthing “brothers” and nodding in approval. Solveig had to stifle her laugh with a mouthful of fruit.
Westley stood abruptly. “You two. Training ring. Now,” he ordered. The violence in his voice made the bond between them purr. It was too easy.
The brothers looked at each other and smiled, clinking their glasses together before downing the contents. The scraping of their chairs rang through the hall as they stood to follow Westley from the room.
Solveig hung back so she could walk with Gerrie and Conalle, the two of them giggling like school younglings.
“So ... how was it? I mean, despite the fact that you didn’t actually get some, I assume you got a little?” Gerrie tried to whisper, but her voice carried. Easta turned to shoot her a smile, and Solveig clamped her mouth shut.
