The White Werewolf || Season One: Ties That Bind

Chapter Thirty-Five

Hagge, 1243

Geralt's promise was fulfilled when they reached Hagge. He rented a room for Robin and himself at the inn. Jaskier went off on his own.

They had barely left their bed for three days now. He had taken her over and over, determined to drive her worries from her mind.

And it appeared to have worked. He was sprawled out on his back, drenched in sweat, and she was curled up at his side, her head resting on his chest, her damp hair cascading over her shoulders, still smelling sweet.

He was threading his fingers through that hair when one of the innkeeper's women entered the room. She was one they hadn't seen yet, and she stopped short when she saw the witcher.

"Geralt? You're here and you didn't ask for me?"

He raised an eyebrow at her as Robin rolled onto her back and looked the woman up and down.

Geralt was proud of her. She didn't cover herself with the blanket or attempt to hide her scars. She was growing more confident, and he enjoyed seeing it.

"Who are you?" Robin wondered.

"Danica," the woman replied shortly. "I've never seen you working here before."

"That's because I'm not a whore," Robin replied, sitting up. "No offense meant."

Danica blinked. "You're not?" Her eyes flicked to Geralt. "So, what? Are you in love now?"

Geralt chuckled. "Because I'm not sleeping with a whore?"

"Well, why else would you sleep with her? I recall you telling me you don't form attachments."

"I told you that because you were rather doe-eyed and clearly wanted to accompany me when you're not suited for it at all."

Robin glanced at him curiously. She found it strange that he hadn't affirmed the woman's assumption about him not forming attachments. Then again, he might have just been trying to create distance by implying that he and Robin were closer than they were.

"I didn't realize," Danica admitted, staring down at her feet, her brow furrowed.

"Shouldn't you know when someone's pretending?" Geralt rumbled.

Before Danica could say more, Robin looked at the woman as she pulled all of her own damp hair over one shoulder a tad impatiently. "You brought more food and drink?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes, of course."

Danica brought a cart in and retrieved the one that was piled with their old plates and flagons. Geralt sat up slowly, smiling to himself as Robin leaned over and kissed the scar on his back, then the one on his belly, then the one on his thigh.

The gesture was subtle, but effective. Danica's eyes darkened and she hurried out, muttering, "Blessed that prick with my fullest efforts, I did."

The door slammed behind her and they were alone again.

"Have you slept with every whore in the world?" Robin wondered idly.

"Are you jealous?" Geralt growled playfully, grabbing her and lifting her into his lap, letting her feel his cock growing between her thighs as he cupped her breasts.

"There may be no love between us," Robin observed quietly, "but I don't like it when other women look at me as if they know your body better than I do. They don't."

"And no one else ever will, I promise you," he assured her. "You are my one and only companion."

"Mmm. You're getting positively maudlin," she purred, reaching down and grasping him tightly.