“That was pathetic,” he said, placing a kiss on the top of her sweaty head.
“You’re insufferable,” she mumbled and leaned into him for more support. “Tell me more.”
“I love the ocean. I love the rocking of the ship, the way it rolls and dips with the movement of thewaves—”
Solveig groaned, interrupting him. “That is not helping,” she whined.
He chuckled. “Sorry. What I meant was, I feel comforted by it. Safe. The sea is teeming with life below, and of course, the water fuels my magic so I feel strong and powerful all the time. I get very ... excited.”
Solveig lifted her pale face, her eyes flashing with a bit of light.
“I bet seeing me vomit all over the ship is the most arousing thing you’ve ever witnessed,” she joked weakly.
He laughed again as she laid her head on his shoulder. “I would’ve said that everything you do turns me on, but after this I don’t think I can say that anymore.”
They were quiet for a time until Solveig’s strained voice broke the silence. “Sorry I ruined all your sex plans.”
“Not to worry. I have hope for us yet.”
“How do you suppose?”
“I’m assuming you avoid being on a ship for any reason?” Silent confirmation. “I’ve known sailors who have had this reaction, and it just takes time and practice to get their sea legs.”
Solveig groaned at the idea.
“It doesn’t last the whole time, does it?” he asked.
“It gets better after a few days but never entirely goes away.”
“So there is hope. Plus, once magic is back, you can take a tonic.”
“The tonics don’t work for me.”
He tried not to jostle her as he manoeuvred her so she was more or less sitting in his lap. “That’s strange. I wonder why?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“As in, you don’t know?”
“As in Ican’ttell you.”
Westley sighed. There were so many things she couldn’t say, and though he knew she wanted to, it still frustrated him. What kind of vow had she made that kept her silent, even from her mate?
Not to mention the strength of magic it would take to bind someone like Solveig. She was more powerful than anyone he’d ever met.
“Do you think if we were fully mated you’d be able to tell me?” he wondered aloud.
“I don’t know,” she said after a pause. “I suppose we’ll find out in forty-five days.”
“Forty-four days,” Westley corrected immediately. She chuckled softly.
“Forty-four days,” she confirmed.
“Come on, let’s get you into bed,” he said, helping her stand.
He’d learned his lesson and placed her on her feet instead of carrying her like he wanted to. Apparently it made everything worse if her feet weren’t on the floor. So instead, he supported as much of her weight as she’d allow and half dragged her over to their cot.
They’d moved the mattress from the captain’s quarters out onto the deck. Westley had to admit, sleeping under the stars, out on the open ocean with his mate—albeit his sick mate—tucked into his side was the most peaceful he’d ever felt.
