The Oath We Give (The Hollow Boys Book 5)
The Oath We Give: Chapter 26

silas

“Where’s the beautiful Caroline tonight, Silas?”

My jaw tenses as I look at Daniel Highland, letting his question hang in the air for a moment. I give him a chance to correct himself, but when he’s a fool and doesn’t take it, I do it for him.

“My wife’s name is Coraline, Daniel,” I say, irritated with his blatant disrespect. “Don’t make me remind you of that again.”

He swallows the fear of being fired. Now that I’ve officially taken over for my father, approved by the board because of my nuptials, his job is hanging by the skin of his ratty fucking teeth, and he knows it.

I lift my two fingers at the bartender, who quickly pours me another drink, sliding the amber liquid across the bar toward me. I need an entire dispensary to get me through the rest of this night.

“Must have slipped my mind.” He clears his throat, coughing into his fist. “Won’t happen again.”

I nod my head at him, lifting the glass of bourbon toward him before taking a sip. He knows her name; he just wants to get beneath my skin any way he can without blatantly disrespecting me. No, he’s a fucking worm, so he’s covert about it.

My silent reply has him scampering away, excusing himself beneath his breath like a kicked dog, leaving me to brood alone for the first time tonight.

Alone with the ninety million thoughts running through my mind. Work bullshit I never expected to deal with this soon. Wedding plans from my mother, who is intent on having us married by the end of next month. Which I get, I do—we aren’t sure how much time Dad has left, and it’s not like we are having a huge ceremony. It’s private, just our families and friends at St. Gabriel’s Cathedral. But it’s another added stress to our lives.

Coraline has taken it all in stride, barely flinches when my mother shows up with color palettes for the rehearsal dinner and different flavors of cakes. Not to mention, Lilac is having the time of her life picking out flowers for the ceremony, and she hasn’t stopped talking about wedding dress shopping for days now.

That part, I can get behind. Coraline in white is my favorite wet dream. I’m not going to mind seeing her in a wedding dress again.

Having Coraline in my apartment isn’t as invasive as I thought it would be. I like having her around, even though she’s very hot and cold. One day, she lets me in, and the next, she shuts me right back out.

It’s a fun little game we play.

Her pretending she doesn’t like me, me letting her think I believe that.

I’m not one to deny what I want; I never have been. I’m a straightforward person. If I want someone, I want them. They’ll know it, and I want Coraline.

More and more, the longer she exists in my home.

My head throbs when the thought of Stephen pops into my brain. That and having to be at this godforsaken work fundraiser is making me wish I brought painkillers. It’s not even a fundraiser—it’s an overpriced socializing event with competing companies. Which means I have no choice but to engage in conversation.

My father was much better at this than me. He’s able to entertain people, chat, and laugh. I am not that man.

But at work, here? At least I can do something. At least my hands are not idle.

The worst part about Stephen is we can’t do anything. There are no leads to follow; there hasn’t been a word since he broke into Coraline’s apartment. We are just sitting ducks.

We know he’s out there, watching us. We can feel him in the air. His presence clings to Ponderosa Springs like a virus.

With my mind bringing up the thought of Stephen, I instinctively look around for Coraline. She’d gone to the bathroom, but that had been several minutes ago, which means she’s gotten caught in a conversation she most definitely needs help getting out of.

Coraline is sweet when she’s comfortable, but the girl has sharp teeth. And while watching her snap them at her stepmother the other day turned me on, I really would like to avoid having to hold people back while she attacks someone for being an asshole.

I scan the ballroom, aglow with the soft golden light of chandeliers. People move around gracefully, laughing and talking to one another in their overpriced clothing. A two-piece band plays soft music in the corner while waiters go around carrying silver trays filled with hors d’oeuvres.

I’m about to move toward the bathrooms when I see her burnt-orange floor-length silk slip dress. I fucking love the way she did her hair, slick down her back, tucked behind her ears to show off her sharp jawline.

Every time she wears it like that, all I think about is winding those brown and white strands around my wrist. Use it as a handle to shove my cock into her throat.

I’m so distracted by her, by how lethal her figure is in that dress, that I don’t notice what she’s doing. I don’t notice that she’s currently batting her fucking eyelashes at a man wearing a goddamn bow tie.

Not until one of his fingers traces the length of her arm.

I roll my tongue against my cheek, downing the rest of my drink and setting it on the bar.

I can’t blame him.

Coraline is dark honey.

Sweet, irresistible, but with an edge like no other.

The perfect-looking doll for high society who could slip into heels and steal the heart of any person she crossed. But beneath the surface, there is a sharpness, a wickedness that tells you she’d be a minx in the sheets.

She’s what every man standing in this room wants but could never have.

Because she’s mine.

I step behind Coraline’s small frame, looming over her to stare at the man in front of her.

“Silas—” she breathes when my chest touches her back. Something tightens in my gut, knowing she didn’t even need to look to know it was me.

“Carson Bloom,” Blond highlights says, reaching his hand out for me to shake. He’s unaffected by my arrival, confidence in his grin.

He’s definitely the son of a politician.

“Silas Hawthorne.” I take his offer, slipping my palm against his. “You blind?”

“What? No? Why—hey, man, what the fuck!” He groans as I tighten my grip, crushing the tendons in my grasp. My knuckles whiten from strangling his finger, and I can just hear the crunch of bones cracking beneath my grasp.

I tilt my head. “That’s the only excuse I can think of for why you didn’t see the ring on her finger.”

“Silas, stop,” Coraline murmurs, turning to face me, hands on my chest.

A chill spreads over me like icy venom, unaffected by the pain twisting up Carson’s face as I keep squeezing. He chokes out a grunt of pain as I narrow my eyes at him.

“Touch my wife again and the next scandal your daddy will have to cover up will be your murder.”

I release his hand, sliding my own into my slacks pocket. He clutches his wrist to his chest like he’s afraid I’ll steal it from him.

I nod my head behind me. “Thanks for coming, Carson.”

He doesn’t even spare a glance at Coraline before he bolts. If I had to guess, to get medical attention. I run an irritated hand across my jaw, peering down at the center of my stress.

Sexual fucking stress.

She thinks this is a game, that I’m kidding when I say I’ll kill him if he comes too close. I’m in control of this board, and Coraline is two moves away from being checkmated.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She seethes, glaring up at me like her scary face is actually going to scare me. She uses it on Lilac all the time. It’s fucking adorable. Like a little tiny kitten who thinks she’s a big bad panther. If she thinks me breaking bow tie’s hand is bad, just wait till she sees what I do when we get home.

“We’re leaving, Hex,” I grunt, running the back of my knuckle across her cheek. “Now.”

Coraline

“You can’t do shit like that, Silas. If he did something I wasn’t comfortable with, I would have handled it.” I seethe, embarrassment burning my cheeks as I slam the door to his bedroom behind me.

I’m glad my sister is with her parents tonight because I have a feeling this is going to be a loud argument. Unfortunately, my things are in his massive closet, which means in order to get out of this dress, we have to have this conversation again.

“I’m more than aware of what you’re capable of, Coraline.”

“Then stop putting me in a position where I have to keep reminding you.”

“Don’t put me in a position where I have to show you how merciless I can be,” he says darkly, leaning back into the chair behind me.

I stare at him through the mirror, his feet spread wide. His impossibly strong thighs are open and inviting in his black slacks.

Don’t ogle his thighs, Coraline. You’re angry.

“I can’t even begin to explain how much you’re overreacting. He’s harmless.”

Pulling my earrings off, I quickly avert my gaze as I set them on the dresser next to me. The material of my dress scratches my lower back.

“I don’t care if he’s a goddamn saint. No one touches my wife.” Silas’s voice is gruff, almost like he’s just behind me, right in my ear.

Chills prick my arms as I turn to stare at him in his man-spread position. I cross my arms defiantly, ready to open my mouth and deliver another snarky comment, but replace myself distracted.

He slips the tie from his neck and is currently winding the slick black material around his toned hand, squeezing it tightly. A violent shiver races down my spine.

“He gets close again?” He pauses, making eye contact with me. “I put a bullet in him with the gun I used to fuck your cunt with.”

My stomach knots with pleasure, feeling the dampness on my panties at his words, remembering the pleasure Silas can bring my body when I let him.

“Is this what happens?” I swallow around the desire in my throat. “When you get jealous, you go on a killing spree.”

And because we are alone, because it’s just us and I always get a different version of Silas in the shadows, he smirks, tilting one side of his mouth, showing me his arrogance.

“I’m not jealous, Hex.” There is a chuckle in his voice, dark and demanding. “I know what that uptight pussy of yours tastes like, and it’s my cock that you crave. I’m protective over what’s mine. Don’t confuse the two.”

“I—”

“Don’t fucking deny it,” he snaps, shaking his head a bit. “Don’t make yourself a liar.”

I press my back into the dresser, feeling like I need the support. My body feels like it’s giving out, but my voice remains strong, trying to keep up the image that I don’t want him.

“Fuck you.”

Silas carefully starts to undo the top few buttons of his shirt, exposing the golden-brown skin beneath, making my thighs rub together beneath my dress.

“You could, if you’d let yourself. Submitting to me sexually doesn’t make you weak, Coraline.” He watches me, fucking me with his eyes. I wonder if he can see my heart beating with that intense gaze. “You want to run the show out there? I’ll lay the ground for you to walk on. In here? Let your mind go, and let me make you feel good, baby. Give me control, and I’ll show you how good letting go of it feels.”

Control.

Give up control.

Why would I, when I’d just got a semblance of it back? Why would I give it all up for a fucking guy?

Because you trust him.

An annoying little voice in my brain echoes the thought. My nipples tighten beneath my clothes as if my body wants to second the notion my brain put forward.

Lust is a traitor.

“And if I want to stop? If I get lost in my head and can’t stay in the moment with you?”

Fear tries to take the edge over my desire, telling me that I can’t have a sex life. Not a healthy one where I can live in the moment with my partner. Fear tells me I’ll always be haunted by Stephen’s hands.

“Then you say red, and it all stops.”

“That easy?” I scoff in disbelief, always so easy. Like when he says it, that’s law.

“That’s the only easy part about fucking me, Coraline.” His eyes burn in the darkness with lust, like he’s dying for me to say yes, to give in. “But yes, that easy. You will always be safe with me, even from me.”

My soul aches, heart actually skipping a beat and resetting rhythm. I bite the inside of my cheek, afraid.

Because I actually believe him. My heart trusts him, and I refuse to let my brain accept it. That for the first time in a very long time, I trust someone. I believe their words.

I’ve never believed in words the way I believe his. From the moment we spoke in the hospital, even then, as guarded as I was, I believed him when he said I could call him. It’s why I dialed his number because somewhere deep beneath all my suffering, I knew I could trust him.

And my body? My body wants him.

Desperately.

My heels click against the floor as I step forward, swallowing my pride in the name of pleasure. But he holds a palm up at me, motioning for me to stop.

“You want me?” He tilts his head, shadows splaying across the contours of his handsome face. “You’ll crawl.”