These Hollow Vows

by Lexi Ryan

  Once I found out who he really was, I didn’t expect to ever want him for myself. I didn’t realize that the idea of him with someone else would hurt so much. By the time I realized my feelings hadn’t disappeared with the knowledge of his deception, I took his word when he told me I was the one he wanted. I never doubted it for a moment.

  I should talk to him. At the very least, I should tell him how I feel, but I can’t afford to fight with him. I can’t afford to have him cancel our trip to Serenity Palace or suspect why I’m staying and pretending everything’s okay. Sebastian knows me. He’d never believe that I’d see him with another woman and look the other way.

  I push off the floor, determined to pull myself together. I’m here for one purpose, and that’s to save my sister. Maybe I was beginning to think that more could come of it, that Sebastian and I might someday—

  It doesn’t matter. If Sebastian wants to walk away when things are hot and heavy with me just so he can go kiss other girls, it’s his loss. We’re headed to Serenity Palace and that’s all that matters. In the meantime, I won’t be the girl who stays in her room and cries about a boy.

  All I need is a little dancing and faerie wine. I’ll give myself one night to shake it off. To lose myself. And tomorrow I’ll be ready to refocus on my task. It’s better this way. Better that I know where I stand. Better that I’m not distracted by Sebastian and an impossible future.

  When I step into the ballroom with its raucous music and crowd of dancing bodies, I see Riaan and force a smile for Sebastian’s golden-haired friend. “Good evening.”

  “Abriella.” He beams. “So good to see you. Where’s Sebastian?”

  “With another woman.” The words are out before I can stop them, but I cover them with a smile, as if they aren’t a blade currently twisting in the center of my chest. Every time I blink, I see Sebastian’s hand sliding up that girl’s skirt. It’s like being hit in the same place over and over again. An open wound that grows deeper and more tattered with every strike.

  His smile falls away. “I’m sure he’d rather be with you.”

  “Not at all.” I scan the party, avoiding those piercing, knowing eyes. “He left me to be with her. But it’s fine. At least I know where I stand.”

  “You don’t, though.” He shakes his head. “He would give you anything. Abriella, look at me.” When I do, he stoops a bit so we’re eye to eye. “My prince wants you desperately. If he’s with another woman right now, it’s because he was so hurt to discover that you’ve been spending time with Finnian.”

  I balk. Riaan knows too? Have I kept no secrets?

  “He tells me everything,” he says. “If you care for him, if you don’t want to lose what you two have, you have to regain his trust.”

  “I want to,” I say, but it’s not a want. My heart doesn’t give a damn about Sebastian’s trust right now, but my mission . . . I need his trust. “But when I asked Sebastian how, he said he didn’t want to push me into anything I wasn’t ready for.”

  “There is only one ultimate show of trust between a human and a faerie.”

  “The bond,” I whisper. That’s what Sebastian had meant. He wants me to share a life-bond with him. But I can’t. Not until I retrieve Mordeus’s artifacts. Not when the bond would mean Sebastian’s knowing—even in a vague sense—where I am and what I’m doing. But after Jas is safe, when I can finally tell Sebastian the truth, would I be willing to bond with him to prove I can be trusted? Yet it’s not just an issue of him trusting me. After what I saw tonight, I’m not sure I trust Sebastian enough.

  “Don’t be afraid of it,” Riaan says, giving me a soft smile. “It’s a kind of intimacy you simply can’t imagine. A connection deeper than any other I’ve ever known. Just . . . consider it.” He straightens as someone calls for him from the other side of the room. He waves before returning his attention to me. “Now, tell me what I can do for you so you can enjoy this fine party.”

  I wave him off. “Go. I’m fine.”

  He studies me for a beat. “You’re sure?”

  “I’m going to dance,” I say, forcing a smile.

  “Thatta girl.” He bops me on the nose and turns away to find his friends.

  There are parties in the Seelie Court nightly. It seems like most of the palace residents spend their evenings dancing and drinking, but with the exception of Litha, I’ve never cared to attend. I’ve always made excuses. If my presence was required, I made a polite appearance and then slipped out moments later. But tonight I don’t refuse the faerie wine that’s offered to me. I snatch it from the waiter’s hand and down it in two gulps before grabbing another.

  I want the untethering I felt when I danced on my first night here. I want the comforting warmth I felt when I drank Mordeus’s wine. I want to forget this worry and heartache. I welcome the drink to steal my hours so I don’t have to endure this feeling of being crushed beneath the weight of disappointment—in Sebastian and in myself.

  By the time the second glass touches my lips, I’m already dancing. My limbs feel lighter, and my head clears of the constant worry. In this moment, I am free. I am the birds swooping through the night sky. The kite cut loose and floating on the breeze, just above the waves.

  I’m vaguely aware of cheers, smiles, and laughter of the people around me, but mostly I’m somewhere else. I’m at once here and nowhere. I’m free.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been dancing when I find Riaan at my side again. His smile is broad. “How do you feel, Abriella?”

  Letting my head loll to the side, I grin. “Beautiful.”

  He lowers his mouth to my ear and whispers, “Don’t deny yourself the male you want. Don’t be afraid of this life.”

  I stretch my arms above my head and let my hips undulate to the beat. “I’m not afraid of anything tonight.”

  “Good.” He takes me by the waist and turns me toward the ballroom doors. “He sent the girl home. He’s alone in his chambers. Maybe you can both have what you want tonight.”

  I squirm out of his hold and turn back to him. “You mean the bond?”

  His eyes flick over me suggestively, and the corner of his mouth hitches up in a crooked smile. “Among other things.”

  “But I can’t,” I whine. My words are slurred. I think I’m still dancing. I don’t know how to stop. Don’t want to. “I can’t even tell you why, or I’ll lose my sister forever.”

  Something flickers across his features, and those eyes turn too serious for a beat. “Sebastian will always find a way to give you what you want.”

  “I want to dance.” I grab another glass of wine from a passing waiter.

  “Then dance.” Riaan taps his glass against mine. “It is my pleasure to serve my future queen.”

  Those words bring back memories of Sebastian and the girl tangled up in the shadows in his room. I don’t want those thoughts. I don’t want the bad feelings that come with that memory, so I throw back the third glass, drinking it so fast I cough.

  The music changes . . . or maybe that’s me, and my weightless body suddenly feels very different. I’m hyperaware of my limbs moving through the air, my hips swaying to the beat. Why have I never noticed how nice it is to have a body? To have arms and hands? To feel the air on my skin?

  I want more of that.

  I reach back to unlace my bodice, but someone stops me.

  “Abriella, stop,” Emmaline says, taking me by the shoulders.

  I blink at my handmaid a few times, but she flickers in and out of focus, and when I squint, she isn’t one of the twins, she’s Pretha. “Preeetha,” I crow, dragging out the first syllable. I stroke my hand down her smooth face, trying to see the beautiful faerie’s true form. “You’re so beautiful. Why do you always shift to be someone you’re not?”

  “We’re leaving,” she says. “Stop it.” She smacks my hands away from the laces on my bodice.

  “We should take off our clothes and feel the air on our skin,” I whisper conspiratorially. “It’s lovely havi
ng skin that feels so much. I just want to feel with my skin and not with my stupid heart.”

  “You’ve been drugged,” she says. “You don’t know what you want.”

  “You’re right about that.” I let her guide me out of the ballroom, mostly because it’s easier to follow than to fight her. Why would I want to fight and ruin this wonderful feeling?

  We’ve always left the palace in a carriage, but today she takes me through a new door in the hall. “Where’d this come from?” I ask, but she’s already pulling me inside, and we’re suddenly in the quiet sitting room of a warm home.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “MAGIC TASTES LIKE RAINBOWS,” I say, swaying on my feet.

  “Gods above and below,” Pretha mutters.

  There’s a rug on the floor and candles burning from sconces on the walls. It would be a great place to read a book, but I don’t want to read tonight. I want to feel.

  I grip her arm. “Is this your new house? I’m so sorry you had to move because of me. I’m sorry that he’s kissing another woman because of me.”

  She shakes her head and turns away. It’s too bad. She looks like herself again, and she’s so pretty, but then I see who she’s looking at, and I understand.

  “Finn,” I say, stumbling toward him. “You’re beautiful too. So beautiful it distracts me when I’m around you. Did I ever tell you that? Sebastian would be so mad if he knew that.” I giggle. “Maybe we should go tell him. It would serve him right.”

  “She’s been drugged,” Pretha says.

  “Clearly,” Finn says. Those stunning silver eyes crinkle in amusement. “Bring her up here.”

  Finn leads the way up a large staircase, and Pretha holds me upright as we follow him to the top and into a large bedroom. I take in every detail I can—the big, worn rugs, the candlelight, the massive bed. My gaze snags on the bed and stays there until my mind starts painting pictures of Finn stretched out on his side, propped up on one elbow. He’d smile down at me, and I’d feel those crisp white sheets against my bare skin, a contrast to the heat of his fingertips trailing over my stomach the way they did when we were hiding in the back of that cell.

  My eyes float closed again as I let the fantasy wrap around me. I’m vaguely aware of sinking to the floor.

  Heat presses into my side as I’m jostled into someone’s arms. Finn’s scooped me up off the floor, and the smell of him so close flips a switch inside of me. That dull sexual ache winds tighter and more insistent until it’s a pressing need. I wrap my arms behind his neck and bury my face in his chest.

  He stiffens and mutters a rough, “Thanks.”

  Did I say something? Maybe about how good he smells or how sometimes I think about those big hands of his, wonder how those hypnotic eyes might change when he’s aroused—no, not that. He wouldn’t thank me for that.

  “What did you drink? And how much?”

  The sound of his voice makes me open my eyes—when did I close them? His face is so close when he’s holding me like this. Those lips hovering above mine. “Just one, two, three,” I say. “I’d like more, please.”

  “I’m sure you would,” he grumbles, then takes his eyes off mine. That makes me sad. I don’t want him to look at anyone but me. “She’s too far gone for the elixir.”

  “Am I dying?” I must be dying, because Finn has me in his arms and he’s touching me so tenderly. He has one hand on the small of my back and the other is stroking down the side of my neck.

  “You’re not dying. You’re high.” But he doesn’t even look at me.

  “The prince wasn’t around,” Pretha says. “And the queen hasn’t returned to the palace since Litha, though we still have no reason to believe she knows who Abriella is.”

  “Then who did this?” he asks. There’s an edge of violence in that voice, and I know it should scare me—he should scare me—but instead the sound turns up the volume on the thrumming pulse between my legs.

  High. Drunk. Drugged. Whatever this is, I’m grateful for it because I’m different right now. This Brie isn’t afraid. This Brie doesn’t have to deal with a broken heart and stupid guilt. She gets to say and do whatever she wants, and she wants to feel her fingers in Finn’s hair.

  “Your curls are soft.” I twirl one around a finger.

  Finn curses. “She’s overheating.”

  I shift in his arms, sliding my hand from his hair to behind his neck and lifting my mouth to his ear. “I need to tell you a secret.”

  “Is she going to be okay?” Pretha asks.

  I feel his deep inhale. I’m pressed so close to him that I move with every breath he takes. “I’ll take care of her. Go find out what you can.”

  My skin burns to be touched, and I nuzzle his neck.

  “Brie.” His voice is low and deep. The husky timbre rakes along my sensitive nerve endings even as some distant part of my mind registers the warning.

  “I saw her with you.”

  “What are you talking about?” He’s carrying me somewhere. Somewhere away from the bed, I realize with disappointment, but he’s still holding me, so I don’t protest.

  “She was in the library with you. You kissed her. I saw.”

  “Who? Kyla?”

  “Is that her name? What happened to her?”

  He carefully sets me on my feet. “Spy much, Princess?”

  “I was trying to get answers. Not that it worked.” I giggle and stumble on the edge of a rug. He pulls me upright, his thumbs grazing the underside of my breasts. I lean in to the touch and look into his eyes—more gray than silver tonight. I reach up and trace the curve of his lips. “You’re beautiful. I think I want to kiss you. Just once.”

  His expression changes, and for a breath, I think I see something there. Is that heat? But then it’s gone. “You’ve been drugged. This isn’t you.”

  “You’re right. It’s not me. I’m Abriella, the responsible one. The tough one. The boring one.” I close my eyes and settle my hand over his, leading it across my stomach as I whisper, “The lonely one.”

  “We have to cool you off.”

  I love the sound of his voice. It’s like a gentle massage across my skin. He’s saying more—boring nonsense about body temperature and water and blah blah blah—but I nuzzle into him, guiding his hand across my stomach.

  “Brie! Abriella!”

  My eyes snap open. We’re in a massive bathing room. How did we get here? When?

  He’s turning the dials in the shower; then he nods. “Get in.”

  I keep my eyes on him as I unlace my dress. I let it float down my body into a puddle of satin around my feet, leaving me almost naked. His eyes remain on my face. “You’re no fun,” I tease, walking a circle around him. “What did Kyla have that I don’t? What did Sebastian’s girl have that I don’t?”

  A muscle twitches in his jaw. “Get in the shower.”

  I step forward to obey, weaving slightly. I still have my undergarments on, the fussy, lacy ones Emma and Tess always give me, but I’ll leave them. I want him to take them off. I want him in there with me, the hot water on our skin, his hands all over me. Sebastian’s not the only one who can find companionship elsewhere.

  But when I step into the tiled showering chamber, ice-cold water hits my skin, and I jerk back.

  Finn blocks my exit. His legs wide, arms crossed.

  I shiver. “It’s freezing.”

  “It’s not. Your body temperature is too high.”

  I blink at him as the water cascades over me, drenching my hair and my undergarments. “Let me out.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Fine, then.” I reach forward, tuck two fingers behind his belt, and tug him in with me.

  His eyes close, and I see the truth in his strained expression. He wants me. Finn wants me and is fighting it.

  With his shirt wet, I can make out the tattoos beneath the fabric. I trace the runes on each pectoral with my thumbs. “I love your tattoos.”

  His eyes fly open and he stiffens. “Don’
t.”

  Does he mean don’t touch him or . . . “Don’t what?” Testing, I trace a tattoo shaped like a flame. “Don’t do this?”

  He shivers, and his chest rises and falls quickly, over and over, as if he’s running. “Don’t love my tattoos,” he whispers. “Don’t romanticize something you know nothing about.”

  “There’s my grumpy shadow prince.” I let my fingers graze the hard planes of his abdomen and all the markings there. “You don’t like them?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Then why do you get them?” I lift his shirt and study one that dips beneath his waistband. It looks like a five-pointed star with a swerving line through the middle. I press my thumb against it and lift my eyes to meet his. “I want to taste this one.”

  His nostrils flare. With a low grunt, he takes me by the wrists and pins my hands to the shower wall above my head. “Brie. Be still.”

  “Why? Finn . . .” I whisper his name like a secret. With my hands trapped, the only way I can touch him is if I arch my back to press my body against his, so I do. “Please. I want to be wanted. With no strings, no expectations. A kiss without demands for a promise I can’t make. Just once.”

  He frowns at me. He looks younger when he frowns like that. Less serious, which is bizarre. Who looks less serious when they frown?

  “Sebastian wanted the girl he was kissing. He doesn’t want me, though. Not like that.”

  “Trust me. Sebastian wants you. Desperately.” There’s a sneer on his face at these words, but when I circle my hips to press my body closer to his, it disappears almost as quickly as it appeared. His throat bobs as he swallows.

  I shake my head. “Everyone wants something from me, but nobody wants me. He always leaves when I kiss him. I think it’s because I won’t promise to be his bride. But he didn’t want to leave her. He wanted to keep kissing her.”