These Twisted Bonds (These Hollow Vows, #2)(115)

Before I can consider it, Finn drags me forward, and we’re swimming back toward the dark mouth of the cave. Back toward those deathly white eyes and that massive maw. I wrap my numb fingers around my blade and swim harder, digging for energy I don’t have.

Finn leads the way into the murky water, knife in hand, and I follow, looking for those eyes.

There’s nothing but black ahead—not darkness, but a void, like the sky above us. Finn grabs my hand and points, and I follow as he turns to the left. Then I see it—another ridge and the surface of water— air within the cave. When we break the surface, we gasp in unison.

Finn wipes the water out of his eyes before scanning our surroundings. “I can barely tell which way is up,” he mutters.

“Deeper. Lark said we have to go deeper.” My teeth chatter. It’s all I can do to tread water.

Nausea surges, and my pulse feels erratic. “If I don’t make it, promise me you’ll keep trying.”

Finn glares at me, the broody shadow prince back in full effect. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that right after promising me you wouldn’t die.”

I try to laugh, but it comes out more like a whimper.

“You ready?” he asks. His voice is rough too. The water swishes around us.

“Something’s coming,” I say.

“Swim and swim hard.” It’s a command I dare not ignore.

We dive under together and swim. I let Finn lead the way by whatever intuition he has. Because he’s right. This place is disorienting.

My legs feel like blocks of ice, my arms like dead weight, my lungs so tight they could burst. If I doubt his confidence for a single moment, if I think there’s any chance we might be swimming in the wrong direction, I’ll give up.

When we surface again, the water is so close to the top of the cavern that there’s only room for our mouths and noses to grab air. It’s torture. I can feel the rocks converging, closing in on us, stealing our air. Little shivers crawl up my spine, up my legs and my arms.

Then I’m dragged under again. This time there’s no sharp pain, no monster latched onto my thigh, just tiny invisible hands pulling me down down down down.

Just when I’m ready to pull water into my lungs, Finn’s face appears before me in the murky water and he grabs me under the arms and hauls me to the surface again, but only long enough to get a breath before he urges me beneath the surface again.

Again and again, we dive and swim, surface and breathe. Dive and swim, surface and breathe.

When I think I can’t swim anymore, I do anyway. When I think the cave can’t get any darker, when I’m sure I can’t possibly swim any farther, I see it: a faint, pulsing white ring of light.

My body screams to stop, to let go and sink to the bottom, to the promise of the warm arms that would cradle me there.

Finn grabs my hand and tugs hard. Do not stop. Don’t you dare give up.

His will seeps into me, and I kick hard, heading into that tunnel of light. It’s blinding and everywhere, all around us, but that hand in mine is dragging me up up up, and suddenly we break the surface and there’s sun and fresh air and the sound of birds singing in the trees.

“Almost there, Princess.” He doesn’t let go of my hand as he drags me through the water and toward dry land. When the water goes shallow, we crawl on hands and knees onto the sandy shore.

I cough, my chest heaving, as if my lungs were trying to make up for all those minutes underwater, all those minutes without air. Then I collapse and roll to my back, letting the sunlight pour down on me, soaking it up.

Finn turns toward me. “Is your leg okay? Can you walk?”

I adjust my torn pants to examine my thigh and gape at the unmarked skin. “It’s gone.”

He studies my leg with wide eyes. “No pain?”

“I’m . . . fine.”

“When I got stuck, you should’ve gone through the portal without me.” His jaw is hard, eyes glittering with anger.

“Never.”

So quickly I almost don’t see him move, he’s over me and his mouth is on mine. These aren’t the gentle kisses from last night. There’s no room for tenderness in a kiss that is already so full of too many other things. He pours everything into the cruel slant of his mouth over mine—anger and frustration and profound relief.

I take all of it. All of him. I slide my fingers into his hair and kiss him back with everything I have. Everything I am.

I should be dead right now. I should be dead three times over. That I’m not is a glorious gift. That Finn’s here with me, that he can kiss me is a gift.

He tears his mouth from mine and pulls away, but I grab a fistful of his shirt and bring him back, guiding his mouth down to mine. I don’t want to argue about my choices, not now. All I want to do is focus on the feel of his lips and the delicious weight of his body. I need to be as close as possible.

He groans into my mouth and surrenders, giving me what I want.

Finn trails his hand up my side, over my wet shirt, until his big hand is cupping my breast, his thumb grazing the taut peak through the wet fabric.

I gasp into his mouth, into the kiss, and arch under him.

“Brie,” he murmurs against my lips.

“Please.”

The strangled sound he makes in response breaks my heart and intensifies my frenzy to keep him close. Instinct has me drawing a knee up so he can settle fully between my legs. I slide my hands down his back and tug at his shirt, stripping it off. Mine follows in a flurry of hands and mouths.