The Oath We Give (The Hollow Boys Book 5)
The Oath We Give: Chapter 13

coraline

“Is she alright?” I hear the moment I shut the door behind me.

Silas is leaning against the dark granite island in his kitchen, arms crossed in front of his chest as he looks over at me. His apartment is exactly what I imagined it would be, not that I’d thought about it. Just on the drive here, I pictured it for a moment.

It smells like fresh coffee and his cologne, a comforting mixture.

It’s expensive, touched with a rugged masculine feel. With an open floor plan with dark wood and black accents, it’s brooding and soaked in his smell. Two bedrooms, moody lighting with deep charcoal-painted walls, the best money could buy in Ponderosa Springs.

Minimalistic, put together by a designer I’m sure, and perfectly him.

The lack of color, the cleanliness, is so different from my apartment, a physical reflection of our dissimilarity.

“No.” I exhale heavily, my chest tight. “But she’s asleep and will be okay, eventually.”

I wasn’t lying when I said we needed to talk, but I also wasn’t leaving Lilac alone. His apartment was closer to the Cove than mine. She’d fallen asleep in the car, which meant I’d probably be crashing on Silas Hawthorne’s couch tonight.

Closer than I ever wanted to be to him.

I walk through the living room, into the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the island as him and resting my arms on the cool surface. The pendant lights softly illuminate his face, and I can’t help but quickly count the few freckles that dust his cheeks and nose.

“Thank you,” I tell him, swallowing my pride, knowing he deserves genuine gratitude from me. Even if it’s just in this moment. “For everything.”

He stares at me for a second before grabbing the white square box in front of him, clicking it open with his thumb to reveal medical supplies.

“I’m fine. I don’t—”

“I wasn’t asking,” he interjects, grabbing a few things before rounding to my side of the island. I watch as Silas lays out a piece of gauze, some tape, and what I think is hydrogen peroxide. “Don’t need you bleeding in my kitchen.”

Without asking, he reaches down, gently pulling my hand upward and flipping it palm side up before undoing the piece of fabric soaked in blood.

I can’t help but shudder at the sight of my wound. I’d barely felt it until my adrenaline wore down. The smell of antiseptic burns my nose as he cleans it. The sting is intense, but I stay still, unmoving, as if his fingers wrapped around mine are an anchor.

“You should eat something,” he mutters, wrapping the bandage around my hand. “I have leftover beef and broccoli in the fridge. I can heat it for you.”

I shake my head, staring at him while he focuses on my cut.

“I don’t eat meat.”

“You’re a vegetarian?”

“Technically, a pescatarian—I still eat fish. You sound surprised? Did you peg me as a meat eater?” I arch an eyebrow, fingers pressing down on the pulse in my wrist. I wonder if he’s counting my rising heartbeat.

There is a softness to Silas, one the rumors never spoke about. A stillness that the harsh stories left out. Like he’s in tune with my emotions, everyone’s emotions around him, knowing exactly when his attention is needed.

“Not surprised, just curious.”

When he finishes, he turns his back toward me, cleaning up.

The muscles in his back flex beneath his shirt as he reaches for a coffee mug. I quickly divert my eyes, rotating my body back toward the island, elbows leaning on it for support.

“Stephen used to…” I pause, the realization that he’s one of the only people I’ve willingly spoken to about what happened to me weighing on me. The thought of being vulnerable makes me sick, but there’s something safe about him.

“He used to make me eat raw steak. Now the smell makes me sick.”

I hear him moving behind me before he reappears on the opposite side of the island, sitting the dark gray mug in front of him.

“Do you want him dead?” he asks. “Is that why you wanted to talk?” He picks up a spoon, dipping it into a jar of honey before swirling it into the cup. Methodical, like he does it every day.

“No. I meant what I said. I don’t want revenge, Silas.”

“Then why are you here, Coraline?”

A gentle silence washes over us as he continues to stir honey into his coffee, and I stare at him. Our eyes meet, and we just look at one another.

What are you thinking, Silas?

What do you see when you look at me like that?

Does he secretly see just how vile I am on the inside? Can he see my ugly, selfish parts that come out the moment I’m angry or afraid? Or does he simply see nothing? Another girl, another face in the crowd.

He is a stoic statue, meant to be admired but never truly understood. Silas embodies the idea that a person’s presence can speak volumes without a single word needed.

“I came to ask if you still need someone to play fake girlfriend.”

It’s blunt, rushed, unashamed. It’s the only way I was going to get to the point without backing out. Ripped off quickly like an old Band-Aid, it was the reason I wanted to talk to him.

“No.” He swirls the spoon in a circle, gazing down and then back up at me, but the look in his eyes is different now. Crinkled at the corners, they glint with a playfulness I’ve never seen on him.

It’s a smirk, without actually moving his lips.

“I need a wife.”

If I die from cardiac arrest, the cause of death is either the way he’s looking at me or the way he says wife. Maybe a combination of both, but hopefully, Lilac will be able to still collect insurance.

Wife.

Do not panic. Do not fucking panic.

This is the reason I came here tonight. The reason I’m going to sleep on his couch, why I’m in his fucking apartment.

“If I do this—if we do this—I need you to make me a promise.”

Silas doesn’t speak, just waits for me to continue, giving me space to talk. It’s different, refreshing, to talk to someone who is truly listening, not just waiting to reply.

“No matter what happens, you get Lilac out of here.” I make sure my eyes do not waver. The hues of our irises clash, a gaze of ebony and mocha, neither yielding.

“You can use me to get close to Stephen. Marrying me will piss him off. It’ll lure him out. I’ll hang off your arm and play the part for Hawthorne Tech. But if something happens to me in the process, you have to make sure my sister is taken care of. It’s the only way I’ll say yes.”

Protecting her had been the only thought in my brain when she crashed into my arms. I’m not enough on my own to keep her safe, especially not from a man like Stephen Sinclair.

But four founding families could.

I may be too prideful to ask others for help sometimes, but for Lilac?

I’d beg on the streets for change.

I’d do anything to secure her future.

This was never supposed to be part of the plan, but Stephen wasn’t supposed to get out of prison. I have to do what I have to do. I’m running out of options.

“Does she know?”

I blink away the mental fog. “What?”

“Does your sister know?” he asks again, squinting his eyes a bit. “That you’re killing yourself for the sake of her happiness? That the only reason you’re still in Ponderosa Springs is because you can’t leave her?”

A sharp pain stretches across my heart. The walls surrounding me come slamming up again; I hadn’t realized I’d let them slip down.

If we get married, I plan to take a vow of silence. He doesn’t get to read me like this. I refuse to let him make me feel this fucking transparent.

I press my lips together in a tight line, feeling the tension building in me. I have the urge to revolt, push him away, shove him down for thinking he could get close. My tongue rolls slowly across my front teeth as I shake my head.

“No,” I say firmly. “She’s blissfully unaware. And it’s going to stay that way. Tonight, a piece of her innocence was stolen. Over my dead fucking body will it happen again.”

Silas pins me with a heavy stare. “The loss of innocence is inevitable. Happens to us all. You can’t stop fate, Hex.”

I tilt my head, lifting both eyebrows in challenge. My voice is raw with conviction. “Watch me.”

Without missing a beat, he replies, “I am.”

Like liquid velvet, he picks up his spoon and drags the utensil between his lips, cleaning off any lingering drops of coffee from its surface, never once breaking eye contact. The muscles in his arms flex as he props himself up on the kitchen island, raising the mug to his mouth.

Tendrils of thick veins beneath layers of ink on his forearms catch the light.

Silas is the quiet type of handsome.

It is not shouted. It’s whispers in your ear in the dark. He’s the sound goosebumps make when they appear along my arms, an allure mirrored only by cold air skating across warm skin.

The air stirs around us.

There will be a price for this arranged marriage, and my heart will be paying it.

The worst part is he won’t be the one to break it. It’ll be me.

I’m the only villain in this story.

I’m doing this for Lilac, but I won’t be selfish with Silas Hawthorne in the process.

His heart does not deserve what I am capable of doing to it.

“Rules.” I clear my throat. “There needs to be rules between us. How long do we need to stay married?”

He taps his finger against the side of his coffee cup. “Two years, according to the board.”

“I’ll assume you want me to move in with you. It’ll be weird if we don’t, but I want my sister to stay here until Stephen is taken care of. Lilac and I can share a room.”

He nods, agreeing quietly.

“No sex.” My teeth sink into my bottom lip, softly hiding a smile as he makes a choking sound on the drink. “You can get a mistress on the side or twelve.”

The ring of the mug against the marble island is like thunder in my ears, its clatter heating the charged air. His jaw tightens, hooded gaze boring into me. Seconds pass, and I feel them like drops of water on my skin.

“You plan on doing the same?”

My eyes slit, words tasting of defiance. “If I do?”

When he stands to his full height, the slightest sliver of his taut abdomen peeks through the opening of his shirt. I let my eyes drop for a split second until his shirt falls back into place.

There is a crackle in the air.

The mention of the word sex makes me think of it with him.

Dirty, rough sex.

Sex with Silas.

I look at his hands, large palms that he’d probably bruise my ass with. We’d destroy each other in the bedroom. Neither one of us would be willing to give up control, leaving us both littered with bruising kisses and deep scratches.

Lust hasn’t been an emotion I’ve felt in a long time, and I don’t like admitting that I miss it. The way it licked the backs of my heels, heat crawling up to my stomach and burning away inside.

I match his stance, standing up straight with my arms crossed, not saying a word as his eyes roam my body openly. It’s my ego telling me he’s thinking the same filthy thoughts as me.

Silas leans forward, eyes narrowing as he considers my words.

“No deal,” he grunts, the sound sending a tingle down my spine. “No one will believe that I’m unfaithful to my wife. They all know what happens when someone touches what belongs to me.”

“I am not yours to own.” I seethe, my jaw tightening in anger.

Heat and irritation swirl inside of me, a flame burning.

“Right now, you aren’t.” His sharp teeth grip his lower lip, making my body twitch as his eyes rake over my body. “In private, you can call all the shots. But to the rest of the world? You’re fucking mine, and I don’t share.”

Electricity shoots down my spine.

I’m not a thing to be owned, never again.

But I can’t deny that the idea of letting Silas Hawthorne control my body turns me on.

I desperately need to get laid or at the very least have an orgasm before this happens.

“Then that leaves abstinence until we divorce because I am not sleeping with you.”

Even though I want to, if our circumstances were different, I’d do wicked, wicked things to him. However, we are already too close. Sex will only blur the lines, and neither of us needs that.

I can’t risk it.

His gaze darkens as he silently smirks at me.

“Then you better stock up on batteries, Hex. You’ll need them.”

My cheeks flush, a vivid picture of him watching me touch myself with one of my toys sinking into the back of my mind. But I shake it away, furrowing my eyebrows.

“Arranged marriages are a common thing, Silas. Why do we have to put on a show for the public?”

The fire that burn in his eyes is snuffed out, emotion disappearing almost immediately.

“My parents.” He sighs, running a hand across his rugged jaw. “It will break my mother’s heart if she knows I married for anything but love. I won’t do that to her. That’s my only condition.”

As much as I dislike the concept of being owned both in private and public, I get it. I resent that I understand it, but his loyalty to his family makes me admire him in a way I never expected.

Silas doesn’t want to be in this situation either. I’m sure being hitched to me wasn’t in his plans.

But he’ll do it ’cause he has to.

He’ll do it because he loves the people around him.

We are two very different people, with very similar experiences.

I don’t need to know his dreams or his favorite color in order to grasp who he is. His loyalty speaks louder than words ever could, and his unwavering urge to protect those around him mirrors my own.

That’s enough for me to go forward with this.

That is enough for me to trust him.

“Play it up for the in-laws.” I give him a tight-lipped smile. “Got it.”

I already know his mother is going to hate me. Mothers always fucking hate me.

“Any other rules?”

“Yeah.” I nod, biting the inside of my cheek.

“No falling in love. I’m not saying this to tempt you. This applies to both of us. This needs to remain as fake as possible, or else I’m gone.”

It’s for the best, keeping my distance, being a bitch. He’ll thank me for it in the long run.

He takes another sip of his coffee, eyes lingering on my face with the movement, before speaking again.

“Is that your greatest fear, Hex? Falling in love?”

His question is so unexpected, so alien, that I laugh in answer.

“You can’t be afraid of something you’ve never known,” I reply truthfully.

Silas has loved, and from what I’ve heard? He gave it every ounce of himself. I could easily let him fall into me and then suck him dry. Use his emotions to my advantage. Let him get close to me, then leave once he was too far gone or simply watch him destroy himself like every man who dared try before him.

The town may call this man a villain, but inside, he’s a lover boy. It gives off a smell. Good intentions and romance. His tender heart bleeds all over the ones he cares for.

It’s easy to get a read on him, written on every inch of his being—someone who would give absolutely everything for those he loves.

I’m far too wicked to deserve it, that sort of devotion.

“No, Silas. I’m not afraid of love,” I say firmly. “But you should be afraid of me. I hurt people who try to care about me, Hawthorne. Don’t let yourself becomes one more victim of my wretched heart.”