“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I have you,” he said simply.
His body ignited when she allowed him to hold her up.
“I am not enough to fix a broken world,” she said into his chest.
“Not alone, but you’re not alone. Our people are working to help you right now, and you cannot give up.”
Solveig sighed and closed her eyes. “I won’t give up.”
He took in the long column of her throat and ran his nose along it, earning a shudder from his mate beneath him. Her scent drove him wild.
The storm of her blood, her emotions was a promise to his soul. He placed a trail of kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. Then he sighed and lifted himself up, her furrowed brow making him smile.
“Let’s keep going,” he said, helping her to her feet.
“Thisisnottheright way!” Westley tried to tell her for the millionth time, hitting his limit of frustration with the female in front of him. His mate was driving him crazy.
“Yes, it is,” she insisted.
“The vision showed us going around this rock to the left and then another left at the fork in the path—the fork we just turned right at.” He flung his arms out wildly.
“We already passed that part,” she said, gesturing to the path behind them. “This is where we choose this path that leads to the doors.” She swung her arm around and pointed the way she wanted to go.
“Gods, Solveig,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “We’re not there yet.”
Though time worked differently in Hel, with no day or night, exhaustion tugged at him, like coming to the end of a long day. He wanted to rest, but with their path having been shown to them, there was no slowing Solveig down.
“You’ve never been here before. I know where we’re going.”
“You didn’t know when we first got here!”
“Maybe it’s because I got all turned around saving your sorry ass from the fucking lake!”
“Bullshit. You had no idea where you were going, even before that.”
“And then we saw the path in the vision, and now I know,” she said, her anger rising to meet his.
“I watched the same fucking vision, Solveig, and this,” he said, gesturing to the path in front of them, “is not the right way.”
“Yes, it is,” she said, turning on her heel without waiting for him, clearly done with their argument.
He didn’t let her get far—he reached out and grabbed the back of her neck, spinning her around to bring her body into his, holding her firmly though she tried to free herself.
“You stubborn fucking female,” he growled, slamming his mouth down to hers. She met his ferocity, gripping his clothes and yanking him closer. He moved his hands from her neck as their mouths battled for control.
The animal instincts inside him demanded domination, but she wouldn’t submit freely. He purred at the thought.
He hoisted her legs around his waist and slammed her back against a rock, pushing his hips into hers.
Ignoring her protests and her attempt to bring him back, he moved his mouth from hers.
Westley was done waiting, and with how her body began to move against him, so was she. He smiled into her neck, his canines aching, and without warning, they sank into her, getting more of her blood on his tongue.
Everything he’d been searching for his entire life made sense at that moment. It was all to get here, to get to her.
He would do it all again for this moment.
