These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows, #1)(103)

“I couldn’t if I wanted to.” His eyes darken, and he shifts and settles over me. The weight of him sends a delicious pleasure pooling low in my belly. I draw my knees up and lead him to settle between my thighs, gasping at the press of him against my sensitive center.

“You’re okay?”

I nod, but okay isn’t the right word. I’m desperate and needy. I’m grateful for this moment and scared of what comes next. I’m in love and loved and undeserving. I’m not okay, but I want this. “You?”

He smiles at that. “Better than ever.” Sadness darkens that smile, as if he senses the undercurrent of my thoughts. “I want more than this, but if tonight is all I get, I’ll take it.”

“I want more too,” I whisper, then echo his words back to him, back to the gods who’ve granted me this moment of happiness. “If tonight is all I get, I’ll take it.”

I slide my hands into his hair and hold his gaze as I shift my hips to guide him inside me. My body tightens, and his breath hitches. His hands frame my face, and he slowly begins to move, but I can sense him holding back and I need more than these tentative touches. I guide his mouth down to mine and kiss him until he’s helpless to do anything but let go and give us both what we need. Soon enough any guilt or sadness is gone and we become our pleasure, become nothing more than the connection between us—and a kernel of hope that this love might be enough.



* * *



Can’t. Breathe.

My eyes fly open, and the specter of a woman peers down at me. I open my mouth to scream, to gasp for air, but she’s sitting on my chest and my lungs refuse to expand.

She leans forward, like a lover leaning in for a kiss. I can’t stop her. My arms won’t move. I want to turn, to flail, to kick and push, but my body isn’t my own. I’m paralyzed. Trapped.

“Abriella,” she says, her breath dancing along my cheek. My name is a song from her lips, and her silver hair floats around her face like she’s in water. “Abriella, Abriella, Abriella.”

The song of my name is haunting but beautiful. I’m so transfixed, I forget that I need air. I forget that I can’t move. I watch her lips and let the melody fill my ears.

I feel consciousness slipping from me, and I let it. She continues to sing my name as the world goes black.



* * *



Lark stares at me with big silver eyes. We’re underwater in a deep, dark abyss, and her hair floats around her like the Banshee’s did. The only light emanates from her glowing silver eyes as she strokes my face. I’m still not breathing, but I’m not sure I need to.

Someone in another world is calling my name. Not the Banshee. Sebastian. Calling my name from above this abyss, begging me. I look up, but the surface is too far away to see.

Lark’s small fingers trace a path from my temples to my chin and back. When she meets my eyes, I sense her words in my mind more than hear them. “I see three paths before you. In each, the Banshee’s call is clear. Don’t be afraid.”

My body jerks in the water as if some invisible hand has shaken me. Lark’s eyes flick up to the surface. I see it now—ripples of light as the surface grows closer.

“Remember your deal with the false king. He will be true to his word. Choose your path wisely, Princess.” Her eyes sparkle in delight as she leans forward and whispers in my ear, “Now breathe.”





Chapter Thirty-One


“BREATHE!” HANDS ON MY SHOULDERS, shaking me, Sebastian’s commanding voice fills the room. “That’s right, Abriella, breathe!”

I pull in a breath, and it burns—like breathing water or drowning on air, but I take another breath. And another. Each hurts a little less.

He gathers me against his chest and strokes my hair. “I heard her,” he says. His arms wrap around me, almost too tightly, but his fear is palpable, and I can’t deny him this embrace. “I heard her singing your name.”

The Banshee. It wasn’t a dream. “Sebastian.” My voice sounds like crushed glass.

“Shh, I’ve got you.” He rocks me, but I can feel him shaking. I can feel the grief rolling off him. As if he’s already lost me. “I’ve got you. I won’t let death be the end. I promise you.”

“What?” I flatten a palm against his chest and push him back. “What does that mean?”

“Did you see her?”

I nod. “Does it really mean . . . Sometimes she’s wrong.” We saved Jalek. He didn’t die.

Sebastian shakes his head. “I don’t know. I just . . .” He swallows, anguish in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You said you won’t let death be the end. What did you mean by that?”

He looks away.

“Sebastian?”

When he meets my eyes, his shoulders sag. “I never imagined how helpless I would feel, loving a mortal. But it cuts at me, Brie. Every time I don’t know where you are, every time I don’t know if you’re safe. I could lose you so easily. And then I woke up to the sound of her singing your name and—” He squeezes his eyes shut. “If you die, I can’t bring you back. Once you’re gone, I can’t give you the Potion of Life.”

“You mean you can’t turn me fae.” My voice is tired and brittle.