“I thought you enjoyed breathing,” she said with a sigh, digging the knife deeper.
“If you think your threats deter me, you are wrong yet again.”
They finally reached the little outcrop of rocks. Westley barely had time to throw her off his shoulder before she had a chance to strike him. He kept her in his arms, though, raising a brow at the dagger poised in the air.
“I do learn from my lessons, witch,” he said, leaning his forehead against hers. “And this time, I don’t plan on being the one out of breath.”
He didn’t give her a chance to protest, taking her through the hole in the rock and laying her down, perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary. She glared, but he was too busy to care.
Kneeling between her legs, he took his time running his hands down her body. He undid his leathers and took off his shirt, enjoying the feral look in her eye as she raked her gaze over him.
He grinned as he worked to remove her clothing next, gripping her by the ankles and pulling her down so she was flat on her back. When he stood to undo his pants, her body froze and the scent of fear washed over him, dousing his arousal.
“What’s wrong?” he said, halting his movements and kneeling again, bracing his large hands on her thighs as she scrambled to sit up, her eyes wide and chest heaving.
She swallowed and tried to speak but couldn’t. Alarm went through his body and he whipped his head around, looking for the threat. When he turned back to her, she was staring with a mixture of apology and fear.
Fear.
It was him. In this place.
She was scared of him.
He removed his hands and backed away.
“I am so sorry, Solveig,” he said, shame filling him. If he hadn’t been thinking with his cock, he would have realized that a cave wasn’t the right place for this—that she might have thisreaction. Fuck.
He watched her collect herself as she closed her eyes and took three deep breaths.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked. Helplessness was not something he was used to. He didn’t want to make it worse. She hesitated only a moment before reaching a hand out to him, her eyes still closed.
“Just hold me,” she whispered.
The rocks scraped his knees as he crawled over to her, not hesitating to wrap her in his arms, and brought her into his lap. He listened to the pounding of her heart and his stomach clenched.
He did this to her.
And thanks to Lake Nastrond, he knew exactly how deep the pain went.
Westley held her tightly, and to his undeserving thankfulness, she held him back as the scent of her fear dissipated.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured into her hair.
“I know,” she said softly. “West, I—”
Their heads whipped to the back of the cave at the sound of crumbling rock.
“What was that?”
“I have no idea,” she whispered. She handed Westley his shirt and they slowly began to dress, never taking their eyes off the back of the cave.
They began backing out, not wanting to disturb whatever beast lay in its depths. They’d almost made it to the opening when four brilliant red eyes shone through the shadows and terror struck Westley’s heart.
Good thing we didn’t get caught with our pants down, Solveig said.
A paw stepped from the darkness, then another.
Really? Is this your way of saying, “I told you so?”
