Page 47 of Woven Souls

She counted the times I complimented her?

“You know, I’m going to have to tell Kwil what happened here, and you should probably talk to him, too. He’s pretty sure we’re mates… and I don’t disagree.”

I don’t either. Not after witnessing how upset he’s been this past week.

“I’ll talk to him.” How I’ll broachthiswith him, I have no idea, but I’ll figure it out if that means I can hold Willow in my arms again. Her brows fly up at my promise.

“Can I ask you something?” At my nod, she presses on, “What did you call me while we… Well, you know.” She waves her hand flippantly to describe what transpired between us.

“’Soiel Ywab’translates from our Fae language to ‘angel of death,’” Kwil says from the doorway.

His voice causes me to stiffen while Willow nearly jumps a whole foot off the ground. We both turn to find him leaning against the threshold of the kitchen with his arms crossed, watching the two of us closely.

There is zero doubt in my mind he probably heard, or even witnessed, my moment with Willow. I wonder if I should be ashamed. He did claim she was his mate after all. But aren’t we all? With how our souls are bound, it’s not too far off from how mates are described as tied to one another. I decide not to feel too bad.

Willow takes a step towards the Fae-turned-monster. “Kwil, I—”

“It’s fine.” Kwil straightens as he regards the two of us. “Willow, you have the unique ability to truly see someone both inside and out. I don’t think you would even entertain the idea of being intimate with someone who didn’t have some good in them.” He turns his attention to me. “Viktor, you’ve been my brother for nearly eighty years now. I have seen you at your best, and at your worst. Unfortunately, your worst wasn’t all that long ago. If I’m to share my woman with my brothers, you better make sure she never sees your worst again. Do you understand?”

This time shame does come. Kwil’s not wrong. Willow has seen the most awful parts of me.

“Understood.”

Willow looks between us before darting out of the room without another word. Kwil turns to watch her rush up the stairs. When the sound of her footsteps disappear, his attention returns to me.

“What were you thinking?” he hisses quietly, his brows coming together. “You don’t even like her.”

I bite back an insult before spitting out, “You don’t know what I like.”

“You’re in love with Eleanor.”

I wait for the name to cut through and tear me to shreds as it would have in the past. The heart wrenching agony of her betrayal cut so deep, I was sure I’d never be able to speak or think her name ever again without the painful reminder of what she did. Yet, I’ve done both within the past twelve hours without the pain.

And none comes now.

“Just because Willow is willing to entertain this doesn’t mean you should get yourself involved if you’re not over your ex.”

“Eleanor is the past.” The confidence with which I speak these words is mind blowing. I was sure that I would love that woman with all of my heart for all eternity. I’d been sure we were mates. “I’ve clung on to that pain for far too long.”

I don’t know if Kwil believes me or not. He nods once. Moving into the kitchen quietly, I wonder if I should be more worried that his monster is about to lash out.

“One more thing.” Kwil comes to a stop beside me. Our eyes meet. “If you let her believe this is more than just physical and hurt her, I’ll gut you.”

I think about how I’ve been feeling this past week and how I felt holding Willow in my arms. I’m supposed to be by her side. I know it. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. Not in the Brotherhood, not following Theodon, not with my ex. Willow is my future.

“Trust me. I will love her as passionately as I will fuck her.”

The words take us both by surprise. But despite the unusual amount of vigor in my words, there’s no lie in them.

Kwil’s eyebrows skyrocket to his hairline. Pleased that I’ve caught him off guard, I leave him in the kitchen and head upstairs to change.

Chapter11

KWIL

Knowing Willow as well as I do, I wait her out. Breakfast is her favorite meal of the day. There’s no way she’s going to skip it.

As expected, she comes back down the stairs thirty minutes later dressed in high waisted jeans and a cropped tee shirt. Her hair swings in its ponytail as she enters the kitchen. She pauses when she sees me.

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