The White Werewolf || Season One: Ties That Bind

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Temple of Melitele, 1261

Robin hovered over Geralt while he slept. He could feel the bed dip as she sat by him, and her hands gently stroking his hair back from his face.

She couldn't heal him herself, but he'd known she would follow his instructions and take him to someone who could. No matter what, she always took care of him.

It was a type of attention he had not only come to rely on, but to crave.

He felt something cool press against his lips. "Drink, Geralt," she whispered.

He obeyed. He would never ignore her voice.

Suddenly, he fell into a dream. He was lying naked in a large white bed, his silver hair fanned out over the pillow he rested on. Sheer curtains billowed in a warm breeze. He could hear the ocean and smell salt.

He watched Robin straddle his hips, his eyes lidded with desire. Her scars shone in the sunlight. He reached out to touch them, pulling her closer.

She leaned forward and her long, loose hair tumbled around him. He breathed in, intoxicated by her scent.

Her bare breasts caressed his chest as she lifted her hips. She sank down, slowly sheathing his cock inside her, then tossed all of her hair behind her and braced her hands against his chest as she started to rock.

He moaned, gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks as he moved with her.

He gasped as he woke, squinting since the sun was streaming into his room.

He sat up slowly and inhaled deeply. Robin's scent lingered in the air, but it wasn't fresh. He raised a hand to the back of his head, smiling as he realized that his hair had been bound back in a tidy braid that kept it off of his cheeks and neck.

"She put it up for you a day ago," the woman sitting at the end of his bed explained. "It made it easier to treat you, and she thought you'd be more comfortable that way."

"Hello, Nenneke," he greeted her.

She nodded at him. "Geralt."

"Where is Robin?" he wondered, looking around.

"She'll be back shortly. She asked me to sit with you while she was gone. She refuses to have you left alone, even for a moment."

Geralt chuckled. "That sounds like her," he agreed.

He tried to get up and Nenneke narrowed her eyes at him. "You're still weak, and will be for several more days. You were quite literally at death's door when she brought you to us."

"You're the most skilled healer I know," Geralt reminded the priestess. "I knew you could help me."

"How did you let yourself get hurt like that anyway, Geralt?" Nenneke scolded him. "It sounds like you were careless, based on what she told me."

"There were extenuating circumstances," he defended himself. "She was with me, as was her brother. I had to go in first."

Nenneke raised an eyebrow at him skeptically, but before she could inquire further, Robin returned.

He smiled in relief as she entered. Her feet were bare, and she was wearing a loose white dress that was tied into place around her neck, letting it hang down in two large folds over her front. Her hair was twined into a loose braid that hung over one of her shoulders, though many strands escaped to frame her face.

"Geralt," she breathed, immediately moving to his side, shaking her head at herself. "I knew you'd wake the moment I left."

He reached up and touched her cheek soothingly. "I'm fine, little mage," he assured her. "There's no need to trouble yourself."

Her eyes fluttered shut at his touch and she sighed. But when she opened them again, they were resolved.

"Nenneke?" she asked.

The woman laughed musically. "He still needs rest. We need to make sure the poison is entirely flushed from his system, and cleansing takes time."

"Of course," Geralt murmured indulgently.

"I also want to hypnotize you," the priestess revealed.

Robin's brow furrowed. She seemed disturbed by the notion. Geralt, however, just shrugged. "I can't be hypnotized," he pointed out.

"You can if you allow it," Nenneke countered. "Besides, strictly speaking, it's not hypnosis. More of an induced trance. It could tell us something about your fate."

Geralt tensed and his eyes flashed at her use of the word. "There's no reason," he brushed her off.

"You're sick, Geralt," she insisted.

"I was poisoned," he reminded her.

"Your soul can experience illness just like your body. Something's not right with you, Geralt. I can sense it."

"I'm a witcher. I'm not right to begin with, and I don't need your trance."

Robin reached out and touched his arm, clearly not pleased with his assessment of himself.

Nenneke stood. "Suit yourself, Geralt. I think you're making a mistake." She tilted her head and glanced at Robin. "What about you?"

"Me?" Robin feigned ignorance.

"Your soul needs healing too."

Robin flushed. "I don't doubt it," she admitted reluctantly. "May I speak to you about it later?"

Geralt looked at her in shock as Nenneke nodded. "Of course. I look forward to it."

As the priestess left the room, Geralt tilted his head at Robin. "Are you feeling all right?" he inquired incredulously.

Robin laughed. "She has spent the last two days saving your life, Geralt. The least I can do is indulge her."

"Two days?"

She nodded. At least that explained his disordered memories. He would have sworn his hair had been down only moments before Nenneke had told him Robin put it up a day ago.

When he looked at her again, he realized that she was crying. He pulled her into his arms and rocked her tenderly back and forth, pressing his lips to her ear.

"I'm fine, little mage. Really."

"I know this is really only the second time in so many years that you've frightened me like this, but don't do it again, please," she begged.

It was only the sheer force of her will that was keeping her true feelings back now. She wanted to tell him so badly, just in case something did happen that took him from her forever. But she also couldn't risk ending her time with him prematurely by confessing.

Nenneke was certainly right. Her soul was sick. If she was entirely honest, it was probably in tatters from holding a secret of such magnitude in for so long. But she didn't see how she had any other choice.

"I'll do my best, Robin," he insisted. "I promise."

He hated worrying her like this. But if it had been her or Jaskier, they wouldn't have survived the poison long enough to get to the temple.

It also made it even clearer to him why it was kinder to keep his love to himself and let her go eventually. She deserved someone who wasn't constantly putting themselves in danger. Someone she didn't have to worry about.

He held her for a few moments longer. She was the one who broke the embrace, though she kissed his forehead as she stood.

"We shouldn't keep Nenneke waiting."

"Of course not. Do I have any clothes?"

She handed him a pair of loose white pants that were draped over a nearby chair and he pulled them on, foregoing a shirt and shoes. He preferred to remain comfortable for the moment.

Then he took her arm and let her lead him out of the room and down the hallway.

He would do whatever he could to make Robin feel better after what he'd put her through. But his soul, he imagined, was a lost cause.