The Oath We Give (The Hollow Boys Book 5)

silas

“Come in,” I grunt, already feeling a headache throbbing in my temples.

The door swings open, and the last person I want to deal with today waltzes inside. “Glad I could catch you before you left today, boss.”

I refrain from throwing the stapler on my desk at his head. Daniel doesn’t say boss with respect. It’s a dig, his passive-aggressive way of trying to remind me I’ll never be my father. That I’ll never live up to his legacy in this company.

I lean forward, shutting my laptop as he walks further inside, taking a seat on the metal chair in front of my desk. He reaches forward, sliding a stack of papers to me.

I glance down at them but don’t actually read them before I speak.

“What am I looking at, Daniel?”

“Our new endpoint security benefits and value propositions,” he says, proud of himself for doing the bare minimum. “I know you—”

“I told you development wasn’t finished with the software,” I interrupt him, my irritation with Stephen and Daniel blending together. I grab the papers, tossing them at his chest. “Get this off my fucking desk. If sales does not have the new marketing materials for the next-generation firewalls by tonight, don’t bother coming into the office tomorrow.”

He pales, sputtering, “You can’t fire me!”

I arch an eyebrow, begging him to test me right now.

Daniel shakes his head, scoffing about how unbelievable I am about making him do his job. He picks up the papers that had fluttered onto the floor before pointing a finger at me.

“I told the board this would happen. Your mental disorder makes you unpredictable, thinking with your emotions and not your head. You are not fit for CEO.”

“Get out of my office, Highland.”

“You better hope Caroline and you can last in that sham of a marriage. That seat is mine the moment you sign the divorce papers.”

My jaw twitches.

The air in my office becomes this thick, heavy pressure that builds with every word out of his mouth. It’s a sweltering, suffocating heat that radiates from deep within me like heat waves off hot asphalt.

Daniel continues to ramble, standing up and running his mouth, thinking I won’t fire him because he’s worked here for so long. Losing his job is the very last thing he needs to fear right now.

My palm finds the cool metal of my gun. Like the moon calls for the tide, violence finds me. The pad of my finger traces the curve of the trigger, its familiar power thrumming through me.

When he turns to face me, ready to give me another piece of his lackluster mind, he stills, frozen in shock and terror that lasts maybe two seconds before the sound of a bullet abandoning the chamber rings out between the walls of my office.

Daniel’s girlish scream makes my ears itch. He falls to the ground, clutching his leg while dark, crimson liquid bleeds from the wound just above his kneecap.

He’s writhing in pain, trying to crawl back toward the door with tears streaming down his face as I stand. The smell of gunpowder and lead pumps liquid adrenaline into my heart.

I squat down so that we are at eye level when he cowers into the corner, trapped with nowhere to go and no choice but to face the hollow barrel of my gun.

The side of the weapon catches the overhead light.

Fear no evil. The shadow and valley are yours.

I press the butt of the gun to his throat, lifting his chin so he’s forced to look at me, wanting him to see just how very little I value his life.

“Tell me, Daniel.” I tilt my head, a smirk at the corner of my lips. “What’s my wife’s name?”

His lips tremble, and his eyes dart away from mine as he swallows hard before uttering one whispered word. “Coraline.”

“Remember that name. It’s the one that spared your life.”

My blood is still roaring in my ears when I step into the bridal shop, the sweet-scented air a direct contrast to the gunpowder lingering on my suit.

I’m lethal artillery walking into a place that reeks of feminine softness, adrenaline still pumping through my veins as I step onto the thickly carpeted floor. Designer gowns hang from racks around the room, the white dresses glowing like spotlights.

“Sir.” A lady dressed in a simple black matching skirt-and-blazer set steps into my line of sight. “Can I help you?”

“Where’s my wife?”

My hands remain in my pockets as I stare down at her expectedly. I’m in a foul mood, and the only thing that’s going to keep me from being a massive asshole to everyone I come in contact with lies between Coraline’s thighs.

My mind is at war, and I want the solace only her body gives.

Realization dawns on this woman’s face. “Mr. Hawthorne, I’m so sorry—I had no idea you would be joining the bridal party today. They are just in the back. Let me just see if they are decent—”

“You and your staff are going to take an extended lunch,” I interrupt, pulling my wallet from my pocket before thumbing out a few hundred-dollar bills and offering them to her. “Flip the Closed sign when you leave.”

I’d already bought out the shop for the day, meaning I didn’t have to worry about other soon-to-be brides hovering. I know attention makes Coraline nervous, and I wanted her to enjoy today. As much as she could under the circumstances, anyway.

“Of course.” She clears her throat, accepting the payment. “Your privacy is our utmost concern. Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

I shake my head, already moving past her and making my way toward the back of the shop. My hands peel back the dark purple curtain that splits the store in half between the front showcase and the fitting room area.

Laughter echoes through the room, the girls clapping their hands as Coraline stands in the center of the room on a small circular platform, spinning, her ivory wedding dress flowing around her body in waves.

“Vera Wang never fucking misses,” Sage says from her place on one of the plush couches, a flute of champagne in her hand, but Coraline isn’t paying attention.

The wall of mirrors in front of her gives her my reflection at the door. Soft pink light casts a glow across her face as she turns to look at me, dark hair fanned out behind her, long veil tucked at the crown of her head, a waterfall of tulle draping down her back.

The strapless ball gown has a plunging neckline that gives me the perfect view of the space between her tits. Expensive silk wraps around the top, tumbling into waves of tulle that sway around her feet.

My teeth sink into my bottom lip at the black silk chiffon ties at her waist.

“Silas, what the fuck!” Briar mutters, turning to face me. “It’s bad luck to see the bride in a dress.”

“It look like I give a fuck?” I reply, rubbing my jaw as I devour the sight of her in the lush material.

“Is that your way of telling us to get the hell out?” Lyra asks, arching an eyebrow.

I nod slowly, watching them giggle like schoolgirls as they gather their things. I already knew my mother had left to sit with my father for the evening, which just leaves them to say goodbye to their friend before I have her to myself.

They quietly slip outside of the fitting room as I walk closer to my wife, who has yet to move from her pedestal in the middle of the room.

“You’re crashing my girls’ day, Hawthorne,” she says, tilting her head, a little smirk on her lips. “What are you doing here?”

I come to stand on the small platform with her, placing my hands on her hips as I spin her to face the wall of mirrors in front of us. My head dips down, dragging my nose along the side of her neck, inhaling her.

“Spent all day behind my desk thinking about how you feel under my hands.” I squeeze her sides for emphasis. “I want to use this body.”

She gasps when my tongue flicks against the pulse in her throat.

“This your way of telling me physical touch is your love language?”

I smile against her skin, forcing her hips back to mine, making her ass grind against the bulge in my slacks that won’t stop throbbing till it’s drained every ounce of come into her tight pussy.

“I think you might be my love language, Hex.”

Coraline makes a noise in the back of her throat when the material of the dress makes an awful ripping sound. I tear handfuls of tulle from the skirt, thinning it out until I’m able to feel her naked ass pressed to my crotch.

“No panties, Hex?” I hum my approval. “Were you hoping I’d show up and fuck you in one of these dresses?”

“This is a four-thousand-dollar vintage Vera Wang.”

“Not anymore. Now it’s priceless ’cause it’s going to be the dress you soak in come for me.”

Her chest swells with a deep inhale as my palms roam the front of her body, skimming the chiffon across her stomach before dipping into the plunging neckline to cup her large breasts.

“Did something happen—”

“Talk later,” I mumble. “Right now, you’re going to watch me use you.”

Touching her isn’t enough. Twisting her sensitive nipples between my fingers, playing with those pretty piercings isn’t enough. I want to rip her apart and bury myself in the ruin. I’d die happy there.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” she asks.

I narrow my eyes at her in the reflection of the mirror and grab her face to turn it so she’s looking at me. I peer down at her, licking my lips at how fucking stunning she is.

Those snarky brown eyes swirl with lust, desperate for me.

“Open wide and say please.”

Without missing a beat, she bats her eyelashes at me and says, “Please, will you fuck your wife, Silas?”

And she drops her jaw, sticking her pink tongue out for me to spit on. Which is exactly what I do before pressing my mouth to hers, forcing my tongue between her lips, tasting and devouring every drop of her.

“Be a good slut for your husband and get on your hands and knees.” My hand swats her ass, making her jump. “Face down, ass up, pretty thing.”

I peck her lips before letting her step out of my hold, smirking as she wobbles from the platform, already weak at the knees. I palm my cock through my slacks, rubbing from root to tip, trying to tamp down the heat searing through me. But with no luck.

I’m incapable of being slow. Of being sweet and taking my time.

I want inside her. I want my come leaking out of her so that I can push it back inside with my tongue.

With one hand, I remove my belt, keeping the leather in my palm before undoing my slacks and stepping down from the platform, following her as she crawls toward the mirror.

When she’s comfortable, she stops looking at me through the reflection. Slowly, I drop to my knees behind her, flipping what little fabric remains above her waist. My hand grabs fistfuls of her bare ass, smacking it a little harder this time.

“Silas!” she whines, recoiling away from me.

I shake my head, clicking my tongue, then loop my belt around her delicate throat and through the buckle before pulling it taut. A wave of satisfaction rushes through me, making my cock twitch as she gasps for air.

“You don’t get to run today, Hex.” My fists wind around the leather, using it as a leash to keep her still. “You’re gonna lay right here and take every fucking inch of me into your cunt.”

Coraline whimpers, biting on her bottom lip with her head tilted toward the ceiling, nodding eagerly. I smirk, using my free hand to shove my slacks down, exposing my cock to the chilly air, making me hiss through my teeth.

I drag my fingers between her thighs, feeling her wetness soak my hand. A groan tickles my throat as I circle her clit, feeling her thighs spread wider to give me more access to her body.

“I love that you’re already dripping for my cock.” I press my hips against her ass, rubbing my shaft along her hot skin. “Love how needy this pretty pussy is for me.”

Using her juices, I lube my shaft, pumping myself a few times before guiding the tip to her entrance. Coraline moans, wiggling her ass at me as I sink into her sweltering heat.

I watch her vise of a pussy suck me inside of her, every inch of my hard length spearing through her warm, pink flesh until I shove myself the rest of the way in until there’s no air left between us.

I’m buried deep within her.

Relieved, content, home.

The force of my thrust makes her place a palm on the mirror, trying to keep herself upright as I lodge myself into her tight walls. It’s so warm, hot, so fucking wet I can’t help but tilt my head toward the ceiling, letting a loud groan rattle my chest.

Fuck, nothing has ever felt this good. Nothing will ever feel this good ever again. The way her cunt stretches itself for me, making room, wanting all of me.

“This sweet pussy was made for me, baby,” I grunt, reluctantly withdrawing before giving another hungry thrust. “Fucking perfect for me.”

“So full. So much.” She leans harder into the mirror, her other hand pressing on her lower stomach, feeling for me there. “God, I feel you in my throat.”

I feel the heat of her inner walls pulling me inside every time I pull back, only to shove myself back inside of her, each thrust trying to put me deeper, wanting to be embedded inside every inch of her body and coated in her DNA so she can’t spend a second without me flowing through her. If I could physically remove my soul just to stitch it to hers, I would.

And yet, I doubt I’d be close enough.

Her small body lights up in my hands with every stroke, thighs shaking as her words slur together, taken over by cries of pleasure that rush over her like waterfalls of ecstasy.

I want her falling apart. I want both of us falling apart until we are shattered remains of who we were. All so that we can piece each other back together, until we are a mosaic.

My hips set a brutal pace, only pulling myself out halfway before plunging back inside, not wanting to be outside of her tight walls for too long. Her pretty ass slaps against my stomach every time I bottom out.

My dark eyes flick up to the mirror, seeing her tits spilling over the top of her dress, bouncing with the force of my strokes. Her head is bent down as she trembles in my arms, her much smaller body trying to take me in stride and stay upright at the same time. But she wants to succumb to the pleasure, wants to let her limbs give out.

“Look how fucking sexy you are.” I yank the leash I wound around her backward, making her look at herself in the mirror. Her mouth opens more, lids dropping to cover at least half of those doe eyes. “Such a pretty cock-drunk whore, baby.”

Her mascara is smeared down her face, cheeks burning red, torn dress, and legs spread wide for me to abuse her cunt until I’ve had my fix. God fucking damn, she’s perfect.

“Silas,” she begs, voice choked from the hold I have on the belt around her throat. “Silas, Silas.”

She’s a divine mess. Ruined and so close to coming all over my dick. My beautiful, divine mess. I drive myself into her with more purpose, more hunger, using the sobs of bliss slipping from her lips as fuel. Hot sweat and her juices run down my thighs, her pussy joining her cries. The hollow walls of the room echo the sound back into my ears.

“You’re such a good fucking girl, taking all of me like this, Coraline.” My teeth grind together. “I’m going to fill you all up until you’re overflowing with me.”

I sound harsher than I want to, but everything feels so vicious as I try to savor every inch of my length plowing into my new home. She watches me in the reflection, eyes wet and melting for me. She’s soft and soaking all around, swallowing me like a wave.

My hand releases the belt, locking both hands on her hips, gripping her soft flesh in my palms, using them as leverage to sink myself as deep as possible with every thrust. She’s shuddering, moaning sweetly, so close to toppling over the edge, and my balls tighten, wanting to follow her over that cliff.

Not feeling close enough, I circle my arms around her middle, pulling her back into my body. She cries out at the change of position, my cock lodged so deep inside of her, piercings assaulting her G-spot to the point it’s almost too much.

But I’ll never have enough.

Her tight ass rests on the tops of my thighs as I shove her up and down my shaft, using her pussy to massage my cock like a toy. I fuck her like she’s mine to ruin, because she is. I’ll wreck, ruin, and demolish everything she knew before and fall to my knees in worship at the beauty of what she rebuilds into.

My lips press a kiss to the side of her neck, breath erratic in her ear as I taste the sweat dripping down her throat.

“Soak my cock, baby. Come all over me. Show me how good I make you feel,” I moan, feeling her already start to come undone, that tight spring in her lower stomach snapping in two.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, oh my God,” she curses, body stiffening in my arms.

Her pussy strangles me, a starved pull that sends me over the edge just as she gushes all over my thighs, throbbing around my cock until I’m filling her with my come.

“Coraline.”

Her name is a plea into the crook of her neck as I keep pumping my come into her sopping pussy, fucking us both through the afterwaves of our orgasm. Even as she collapses into me, a puppet who’d lost its strings, she still moans and whimpers while rocking her hips back, meeting me for every thrust.

I never want to pull out, never want to leave her body.

She’s opium. Some addictive substance that I never want to quit. That subtle, sweet sting of drugs being injected into your bloodstream, its tendrils wrapping around your mind, luring you into that secluded place where subtle whispers and sweet release hide.

There is peace that lies in her body. Quiet peace after the world has refused to give me only war for years. A stillness that the chaos inside of me craves.

“Silas,” she whispers, her head dropping back against my shoulder. “I think you succeeded. I’m officially ruined.”

I tuck my head into the crook of her neck and pepper her throat with kisses, flicking my tongue beneath the leather belt to soothe the red skin. A smile touches my lips as I keep myself inside of her.

“You’ve ruined me too.”

Ruined the fear of loving because of imminent loss.

Death is not a maybe; it’s a must for all of us. It’s scary knowing at any moment, we can be taken, one second here and gone the next. It’s even more chilling when you think of loving someone, knowing no matter what you do, they’ll die.

But she’s worth it. Worth the pain, worth the fear, worth the grief if she goes before me. Worth her weight in gold, and I’d like to destroy anyone that made her feel like she wasn’t. Like loving her is a hard thing to do.

Loving Coraline Whittaker is worth inevitable death.

The quiet stillness of the air shatters like glass as my phone rings. Good things are rarely built to last, and this moment of peace is no different.

One sentence is all it takes for war to return. Unstoppable destruction. Buildings topple, monuments crumble, and everything good turns to ash.

“We have a fucking problem.”