“You want to die?”
Light flared in her eyes. “No, but I’d settle for your death right now, Prince, so you’d leave me alone.”
“I thought we were past those lies,” he said with a smile, kneeling beside her.
He pushed his magic into her, helping heal her wounds and settle her stomach. She took a steadying breath, and relief washed over him as colour returned to her cheeks.
“What do you need?” he asked as she continued to suck in deep breaths. His body itched with the need to help her, but there was very little he could do.
“Just hold me.” Her voice was so low he almost didn’t hear her.
His arms were around her in half a second, wrapping her trembling body up as tightly as he could.
“I have you,” he whispered, kissing the top of her hair.
The wave of emotion that filtered through their bond at the words brought moisture to his eyes.
Those words were bittersweet, he knew that. But she felt them, and that’s all that mattered right now. That swell of emotion helped strengthen her magic, and when her trembling stopped, he released the tension in his shoulders.
They sat like that, a moment’s peace in what had to be the most unbelievable fight of his life.
Fucking Jormungandr.
He was under no illusion that the serpent was defeated. Most likely swimming to the depths to lick its wounds, as they were, before round two. How were they going to defeat it?
As he suspected, their respite was short-lived.
Jormungandr’s head broke the surface yet again, its shrieking filling the darkening day. Solveig cringed.
“Here we go,” she said, getting to her feet, steadier than she’d been only moments before.
He gripped his sword, preparing for the next attack. “Remind me to kiss you when this is over.”
She laughed and shoved him playfully.
Despite the monster looming over their heads, Westley turned and took her face in his hands, brushing his thumb over her bottom lip, andforced his love for her into her body. He threw every feeling he’d ever had for her—the hate, the confusion, the respect, the desire, the love.
Everything he had was hers, and he made sure she knew it.
Solveig’s eyes widened as the emotion fused with her own, riling it up so her magic could recharge. He watched with fascination as strength grew within her.
Her eyes stared into his soul, into the very depth where he kept his own darkness. She saw it and did not flinch, for she had her own. Their souls were twin suns, mirrors of each other.
Their fight was to save their people, but they could just as easily destroy the world if they chose. There was also hope, a seed of it buried underneath the shadows. Hope of a better world, where the shadows were banished and light overcame the darkness.
He couldn’t resist—though Jormungandr flailed above them, preparing to attack, he slammed his mouth against hers like it was the last time he would ever get the chance.
As the serpent’s head dove down, the ship rocking on the waves and the monster’s tail moving beneath them, it could very well be the last time.
It won’t be, she said as she jumped away, slashing her sword, powering her strike with her magic. She connected with Jormungandr’s head, spilling blue blood over the wrecked deck.
Their fight raged on even as the storm blew across the sea. Despite their strength, it was a losing battle. They couldn’t keep up with its attacks, especially not from below.
He knew the legends—well, he thought he knew. Thor had supposedly killed the beast, but that was obviously just a story.
During Ragnarök, the god had finally defeated his enemy, striking the serpent down with the power of Mjolnir. There were drawings and artworks depicting the moment.
Jormungandr’s venom would kill Thor minutes later, but he was still able to deliver that killing blow—from above the serpent’s head. Though it was only a legend, as it was clear Jormungandr was very much alive, it sparked an idea.
