Westley stared down at the three of them. “None of you have any issues with this?”
“I’ll have an issue if there are any sexy times. I’m too tired for all that. So as long as you can keep your”—Conalle waved a hand at Westley’s pants—“all thatin your pants for a night, we should be fine.”
He still hesitated. The only spot remaining was on her other side.
“You’re okay if I . . .”
“Get in the gods damned bed, Prince,” Solveig ordered, on the verge of stabbing someone if that meant she’d get to sleep faster.
The bed dipped as he slid in beside her, careful not to touch her. Conalle’s breathing deepened almost immediately, and soon after, Noren’s snoring rattled the fabric of the tent. Solveig groaned.
She’d just wanted a quiet, peaceful rest and was now stuck with the oddest combination of people in her bed.
Three Fae males: one of whom had just tried to kill her, the other like a pesky brother, and the Prince, whoshe’dalmost killed.
It would not be a peaceful night.
Westley lay on his back listening to his bedfellows sleeping.
He’d been exhausted but now he was wide awake, his body humming with energy. He was unsure of what to do. Solveig had slipped into a fitful sleep. Judging by her increasingly agitated movements, she was having a nightmare.
He nudged her with his foot. When she didn’t wake, he nudged her again, more forcefully, immediately jerking his hips back when something sharp poked his dick.
“Why do you always have a dagger?” he asked.
“Why the fuck are you waking me up?” she retorted without opening her eyes.
“I didn’t think you’d want to start screaming now that you don’t have your Sound Stone.”
She was quiet for a moment. Westley sagged back into the furs when the tip of her dagger disappeared.
“I don’t know how to not have nightmares.”
He paused, giving her time to elaborate. She didn’t.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” Her tone did not invite further discussion of the matter.
Changing the subject, he asked, “What’s the plan for tomorrow?”
“We’re leaving for Asgard at first light.”
She saidwe. “I’m glad to see you’re coming to your senses.”
“Don’t think this means I want you accompanying us, Prince.”
A long pause stretched between them, the air charging. Her breath fell in even waves on the side of his cheek, mint and rain enveloping his senses, sending shivers down his spine. His hands stayed locked into fists beneath the furs, the urge to reach out clouding his judgement.
“Were you really going to kill me?” The question fell from him before he could stop it. He’d been dying to ask.
“Yes.”
Part of him knew that would be her answer, but it still stung.
“Would you have regretted it?” He held his breath waiting for her answer.
“Yes.”
