Page 23 of Hollowed

“Then what am I?”

He kissed me.

Not softly.

Not sweetly.

Just once.

And said,

“You are my vow made flesh.”

ChapterSix

I didn’t expecthim to stay.

After everything—after his member split me open with reverence, after his vow spilled inside me like it had waited lifetimes—I thought he would pull away. Rise. Cloak himself again in those black robes that didn’t just cover him, but contained him.

He didn’t.

He stayed inside me.

Deep. Full. Still.

And the stillness was worse than the thrust.

Not because I wanted more.

Because I didn’t know how to hold it.

My thighs trembled around his hips. My wrists had gone numb where he’d pinned them above my head. His breath was hot against my mouth, but he didn’t kiss me. Just exhaled, slow, deliberate, like he was still saying something.

Or like he had said too much.

His heart beat against mine, steady and slow, and it didn’t match my own.

Mine raced.

Because I had been ruined.

And I wanted him to ruin me again.

Not gently.

Not reverently.

I wanted his hunger.

I wanted the version of him that snarled scripture into my skin, not the one that stilled like prayer.

But I said nothing.

Because silence still lived in me.

He pulled back—only enough to look at me.

I met his eyes.

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