Chapter 36

SWYN

I wait for the front door to close and the four of them to exit through the garden gate before turning back to Oland. He looks so much better than when we found him, and I have to wonder at what kind of miracle healing magic Mavis must have weaved on him, because I was honestly worried he was dead.

Forcing myself to push that thought - and the accompanying panic - from my mind, I take a deep breath.

Be brave, Swyn, you can do this.

"How are you feeling?" I ask Oland tentatively.

"I'm fine. Honestly, I could have gone with them. Don't know why the old bat insisted on me staying here when she knows she did a damn fine job of healing me."

I smile at the affectionate lilt to his voice when he talks about Mavis. The pair of them have banter like she does with Ri. Actually, Ri and Oland seem similar in a lot of ways. Being a bit gruff being the main one.

"So you're from Spells Hollow originally?" I ask, trying to fill the silence.

Oland relaxes back onto the pillows and pats the bed beside him. Weirdly, it doesn't feel strange to lie next to him and roll onto my side, so that we're facing one another. It feels right.

"You know I come from a long line of Watchers. We've always been assigned to the Galdurs. When your family moved from Spells Hollow, my ancestors followed. There was a short spell when we were back here for a while, but I didn't recognise the place until the other day. We were kids, but I'm guessing it was your parents or grandparents who came here looking for a way to break the curse. They left when your mum found out she was pregnant."

"With me," I whisper.

He nods. "Yeah, so we left with your family. But my brothers got kept behind."

"Alone?"

"With Mavis."

"But why?"

He hesitates, his eyes searching mine. I nod, "I know about them shifting."

"Into dogs?"

I grimace. "And the other thing."

"Yeah, well, that's a pretty unique kind of magic. Mind you, so are triplets in Watcher families, which is why they were needed to stay here. To guard the gateway."

"To Hell."

"Hell. The Underworld. Other world. It goes by lots of names."

"But they were children," I protest, unable to get my head around that.

He shrugs, "It's just the way of our people, Swyn. Duty first, always. The gateway in Spells Hollow trapped a particularly strong kind of evil and leaving it unprotected was not an option."

"Morfran, right? But I don't understand why your family didn't stay with them," I protest. As awful as my family can be about this damn curse, I know deep down that they love me and want what's best for me.

"Because your family was leaving. And where you go, we follow."

I frown. I hate that. It's like our family has held his prisoner for generations and it's awful. Is that the only way he feels bonded to me? Because he has to stick around to protect me? If we fail to break the curse and my family perishes, what will happen to his? Are our fates so tightly bound that the Lambert-Accardis will cease to exist too? That thought doesn't sit well with me.

My stomach twists. I feel awful.

"Stop that, lucky charm. I can hear your thoughts a mile away and they'll be none of that self doubt, you hear me? None of our families have ever been mated before, we're unique. This is real."

I blink at the nickname, pondering the rest of what he's saying. If only it was that easy to let go of my doubts. "My Gramps called me that."

He smiles. "I know. Who do you think guided me here?"

"I don't understand." I shake my head. "He warned me away from marrying you. Why would he do that if we're fated mates?"

"Because he knew that in order to break the curse, you needed to find all of your mates. As soon as we said our vows, our bond was ignited - however weak. You may not have felt it, but it was there."

"I felt something," I whisper.

A flash of satisfaction crosses his face. "Me too. So, Elias knew I'd be able to find you with his help, because we had a faint bond already. And he warned you away, because he needed you to come to Spells Hollow to find my brothers. If we'd married and gone on our honeymoon, that might never have happened and we wouldn't have stood a chance of breaking the curse."

It makes sense. I guess. But why couldn't Gramps just say that? And why are the guys so hell bent on helping me destroy this curse? You'd think they'd want to knock me up and be done with the whole thing.

The thought of passing this curse on to a new generation though…

Fuck.

I can't. We can't.

"Listen, Swyn," Oland says, reaching across the small space of blanket between us, to capture my hand in his.

My heart thumps double time at the electricity his touch ignites.

"I want you to know that there's no pressure to?—"

I don't wait for him to finish. I blurt out, "I think we should break the curse."

"You do?" He blinks at me, astonished.

"Yeah." I nod. "Now…No time like the present, right?"

Oland's astonishment lingers for a beat too long. It makes my pulse race, uncertainty creeping in. But then his eyes soften, a slow, reassuring smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

His hand tightens gently around mine, grounding me like he's done before—like at our wedding when I was a bundle of nerves, my thoughts spiralling.

He had simply taken my hand in his and whispered, "We've got this. Together."

That same calm certainty is there now, but it feels different. There's a weight behind it, one that reminds me of everything we've been through and everything we still need to face.

"Are you sure?" His voice is gentle, his thumb brushing circles over the back of my hand. "I don't want you to feel rushed into this."

I swallow, nerves bubbling up, but there's an underlying sense of resolve in me too. "I'm sure, Oland. If you're feeling up to it." My voice steadies. "This is what needs to happen, right? This is what we've been moving toward all along."

He studies me for a moment, his eyes searching mine as if he's looking for any hint of hesitation. I meet his gaze head-on, wanting him to see the certainty that's finally taken root inside me.

I've been running for so long, unsure of everything—of myself, of this curse, of him and his brothers—but now, for the first time, I feel like I'm where I need to be. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, with him.

Oland lets out a soft sigh, almost like he's been holding his breath, waiting for me to change my mind. His hand cups my cheek, the calluses on his fingers rough against my skin, but the touch is tender, full of care.

It's always been like this with him—rough edges, but underneath, a quiet kind of strength. A protector.

"When I made those vows," he says, his voice low, "I meant them. Every word. I would have waited as long as it took for you to come to me, Swyn. I still will."

His words wrap around me like a blanket, warm and reassuring, but I don't want to wait anymore. The curse is unravelling, like something is shifting inside me.

It's not just the curse that's ready to break—it's me, breaking free of all the doubt that's been holding me back.

I shift closer, the blanket rustling between us, and press my lips softly to his. The kiss is tentative at first, testing, like we're both feeling out this new reality between us. But it doesn't stay tentative for long.

The tension that's been building between us for so long—the distance, the uncertainty, the unspoken bond—crashes over us, pulling us together like a magnet.

Oland's grip on me tightens, his lips pressing harder, more urgent. He shifts, pulling me beneath him, his body covering mine in a way that feels both protective and possessive.

But his weight is grounding, reminding me of all the times on our wedding day that he was my anchor when everything else felt like it was slipping away.

I break the kiss just long enough to whisper, "I want this, Oland. Want us. I believe in the bond. Believe in us."

His silvery eyes darken to liquid mercury, a storm of emotions swirling in them—desire, yes, but also something deeper. Something that tells me this is more than just breaking the curse.

This is about us, about everything we've been through and everything we're about to face together.

He presses his forehead to mine, his breath ragged.

"You're sure? Because once we cross this line, I won't let you go. I know I said you could walk away if you wanted, Swyn. But I don't think I can. I can't. I won't ever let you go."

I nod, my voice steady despite the jerky rhythm of my pulse at his possessive words.

"I'm sure."

The kiss that follows is unlike any I've had before. There's no hesitation, no holding back. His lips move against mine with a hunger that matches my own, his hands roaming over my body like he's memorising every inch of me.

The heat between us builds fast, like a spark catching fire and consuming everything in its path. It's undeniable, a fierce and urgent pull that draws us closer with every heartbeat.

My skin tingles where his fingers graze mine, and it's as if the air around us is charged, thick with the weight of what's about to happen. The room, the world, everything else fades, leaving only the two of us caught in this magnetic force.

My pulse races, my breath coming faster, and I can feel the intensity of his gaze, the fire in his eyes reflecting the burn in my chest. We're on the edge of something explosive, something that we can't ignore or resist.

This moment feels monumental.

I arch against him, my body responding to every touch, every press of his lips, every whispered promise. His hands slide under my shirt, warm against my skin, and I shiver at the contact.

There's nothing hurried or frantic about the way he touches me. Every movement is deliberate, like he's savouring this, savouring me. And it makes my heart pound harder, because I know this isn't just about the physical—it's about trust, about surrendering to each other fully for the first time.

I close my eyes as he leans down to kiss my neck, his breath hot and teasing. The weight of him, the feel of him—it's everything I didn't know I needed.

My hands find their way into his light blond hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer.

Oland's lips glide slowly down my neck, each kiss like a gentle caress that ignites my skin. He lingers at my collarbone, his breath warm and tantalising against me, making my heart race with a heady mix of anticipation and desire.

His hands roam my body, fingers tracing the curves and contours with a reverence that makes my chest ache. It's a tender exploration, unexpected yet desperately craved.

Pulling back just enough to lock his gaze onto mine, I can see the restraint battling within him—an intoxicating mix of longing and control.

He's holding back, waiting for me to take the lead, as if he wants to memorise every detail of this moment, every flicker of my desire.

His thumb brushes across my cheek, igniting a shiver that cascades down my spine, lighting a flame deep within me.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion, not just desire but something deeper. "From the moment I saw you in that defiant black gown, even when I had no right wanting you."

There's a rawness to his confession that reverberates through me, reminding me that this has always been about us, a connection we've both yearned for.

"Why do you think you had no right wanting me?" I challenge softly, my breath hitching in my throat.

"Swyn," he groans, his voice a low rumble that sends tremors through me. "I'm sixteen years older than you. You'd be better suited to my brothers."

"Fate disagrees," I reply, my heart pounding as I lean in closer. "I wanted you too. You were the first guy who set my heart racing. Then I met your brothers, and it all makes sense now."

With a boldness I didn't know I possessed, I reach up, cupping his face in my hands, pulling him back down to me. Our lips meet again—this time softer, but laced with urgency.

Each press of our lips feels like a promise, like we're making up for every second we've been apart, every moment of uncertainty that's ever come between us.

Oland's hands slide lower, his touch firm yet gentle, and the heat between us builds, but it's not a desperate kind of heat. It's the slow burn of anticipation, the kind that makes my heart race and my body ache for more.

He's taking his time, and I let him. I want him to. I've waited forever for a love like this.

My eyes snap open.

Uh-oh. Did I just use the ‘L-word'?

His lips brush against my ear, his voice a low murmur that sends chills racing down my spine.

"You're everything, Swyn. You always have been."

A warmth blooms in my chest at his words, and a lump forms in my throat. It's the way he looks at me that makes me feel cherished, like I'm more than just a means to an end.

Like I'm his . And I realise that's what I want: to be his. To be theirs.

I tilt my head back, exposing more of my neck to him, and he takes the invitation. His lips find my skin again, slow and deliberate, igniting a thrill that races through my body.

His fingers curl around the hem of my shirt, pausing to meet my gaze, his eyes searching mine for permission. I nod, and he lifts it over my head, his gaze never leaving mine.

There's something intimate in the way he watches me, making me feel vulnerable but safe, as if I'm unveiling a part of myself just for him.

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to my bare shoulder, and I feel his hands on me again, exploring with a tenderness that leaves me breathless. I let myself get lost in him, surrendering to this moment, this connection.

There's no urgency, just the steady, patient rhythm of two people finally coming together in the way they were always meant to.

He shifts slightly, his body pressing closer to mine, the heat radiating off him is an inferno of desire that wraps around us.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. "Shall I continue?"

I nod, my throat too tight to speak. I don't need to say anything. He can feel it, just as I can sense everything he's trying to convey without words.

He moves slowly, his hands cradling me, his lips soft and searching. He savours every inch of me, as if I'm something precious, something to be treasured.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I am. I close my eyes, letting myself fall into him, into this. Into us.

His lips find mine again, igniting a fire between us. The kiss deepens, his tongue sliding against mine as I press my body against him, hungry for more.

Heat radiates from him, and it makes me ache with desire. Oland's hands roam my body, fingers trailing down my sides before gripping my waist tightly, pulling me against him. The hardness of his body sends a thrill through my veins.

"You drive me crazy," he growls, his lips trailing down my neck, his hot breath sending shivers across my skin. I arch my back, craving more of his touch, urging him to take me.

He kisses a path down to my collarbone, nipping at my skin, and I can't help but moan softly. I want him—want all of him.

Oland looks up at me, his eyes dark and stormy with desire, and in a swift motion, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my pants, pulling them down my legs.

The cool air hits my heated skin, heightening my senses.

"Damn, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his gaze drinking me in as if he can't get enough. I feel exposed but exhilarated, and the way he looks at me ignites something primal inside.

He leans down, kissing his way back up my thighs, his lips trailing dangerously close to where I want him most. I'm practically panting, my heart racing as I squirm beneath his touch.

"Please, Oland," I beg, desperation lacing my voice. "I need you."

He pulls back and I nearly wail with disappointment until he fixes me with a firm stare that has me swallowing nervously.

"Who am I?"

"Mine. My husband. Please."

With a low growl, he lifts my legs over his shoulders, his mouth finally finding me. The moment he kisses me, it's electric. I arch my back, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through my body.

He knows exactly what to do, teasing and exploring, driving me wild with every flick of his tongue. I can't help but writhe beneath him, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level.

"You taste incredible, wife," he murmurs against my skin, hunger in his voice. It pushes me over the edge, sending me spiralling into bliss, each wave washing over me like a tidal force. I'm lost in the pleasure, utterly consumed by him.

Just when I think I can't take any more, he pulls away, his eyes dark with need.

"I can't wait any longer," he says, urgency lacing his words. He positions himself between my legs, his body pressing against mine, hard and ready. It makes my heart race. "Are you ready for this?"

"Yes, please," I breathe, my voice shaky with desire. With one powerful thrust, he enters me, filling me completely. A gasp escapes my lips as he pushes deeper, and the feeling is mind-blowing.

He starts to move, each thrust deliberate and powerful, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through me. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, desperate for more.

"God, you feel amazing," he growls, his voice thick with lust. He picks up the pace, and tension builds between us, a pressure that's reaching its peak.

Every thrust ignites a fire within me, pushing me closer to the edge. I'm lost in the rhythm of our bodies, feeling the heat of him filling me, consuming me.

"Don't stop," I plead, my nails digging into his back as the waves of pleasure begin to crest. He responds with a low growl, driving into me harder, pushing me closer and closer to release.

"Please, don't stop."

His rhythm intensifies, each thrust hitting deeper, sending shocks of ecstasy coursing through my veins. My body tightens around him, a coil ready to snap. He leans down, capturing my lips with his as if to consume my moans, his tongue dancing with mine, igniting the fire even further. I'm lost in the sensation, drowning in the heat of him.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs against my lips, his breath ragged. The way he looks at me, full of desire and admiration, sends a jolt of pleasure through me.

The pressure builds inside me, an irresistible wave that threatens to wash me away. I'm teetering on the edge, desperate for him to push me over.

"I'm so close," I gasp, my voice trembling with need. I cling to him, my body arching in response to his every thrust, every caress. Oland's grip tightens around my waist as he picks up the pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room.

It's intoxicating, primal—everything I've ever craved.

"Then let go, lucky charm," he urges, his voice low and heated. "Let me feel you." His words send a shiver down my spine, and I can't hold back any longer. The tension within me spirals out of control, and with one final thrust, I'm undone.

"Oland!" I cry out, my body convulsing as waves of pleasure crash over me, each one more intense than the last. I'm lost in a haze of ecstasy, my vision blurring as I ride the waves, my body clenching around him.

The world fades away, leaving just the two of us, intertwined and consumed by the moment.

He groans my name, the sound reverberating through me, and I feel him shift, his movements becoming more erratic as he chases his own release.

With each thrust, he buries himself deeper, matching my rhythm until he finally spills into me, his body tensing as he releases a low, guttural sound.

We're both panting, lost in the aftermath of our passion, our bodies still connected, a warm bliss enveloping us. Oland collapses beside me, pulling me close, his heartbeat pounding against my skin.

I nestle into him, a content sigh escaping my lips.

"That was…" I start, but words escape me. I've never felt so alive, so complete. He chuckles softly, brushing a stray hair from my face, and the tenderness of the gesture makes my heart swell.

"Yeah, it was," he replies, his voice still thick with emotion.

We lie there, bodies intertwined, the bond between us now palpable. This is real. The bond between us is flaring, the connection we've always shared finally sparking into something tangible, something powerful.

I can feel it—like a thread of magic tying us together, stronger than before. It's more than just physical; it's a connection that transcends everything.

The curse is breaking. Unravelling. Loosening its grip on me, on us. It's dissipating, a weight lifting, a suffocating fog finally clearing under the heat of the sun.