These Hollow Vows (These Hollow Vows 1)

Finn groans against my neck. “Brie,” he whispers, his hot breath caressing my skin. “Fuck.”

I collapse against the wall, limp and shivering, and Finn carries me to bed.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I ROLL OVER AND PRESS my hand to my forehead. My mouth feels like it’s full of sand. Every muscle aches. I curl onto my side and whimper.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Finn says.

My eyes fly open, and I sit up so fast the room spins. Images come at me in waves. The party. The dancing and the wine. Emmaline’s—no, Pretha’s hand on my wrist as she dragged me away.

Then Finn. The shower. The begging.

Gods above and below . . . so much begging.

My face burns, and Finn smirks. “Problem, Princess?” he asks, rocking back on his heels.

I wanted it to be me. I hadn’t even admitted that to myself, but last night I told him. I threw myself at him, and he denied me. Held me in place as I begged for his touch. And even through my humiliation, the thought of his lips on my neck makes my skin heat.

I collapse back on the bed and cover my face with both hands. “Go away.”

He chuckles. “You didn’t want me to go away last night. In fact, when I tucked you into this bed, you were begging me to stay. I have to admit, you made some pretty intriguing promises.”

I peek at him between my fingers, and just as I expected, the ass is smiling. He never smiles, but of course this most mortifying morning of my life would be the occasion of his shit-eating grins. “I hate you.”

“Also not what you said last night.”

I roll over and bury my face in the pillow. “I was drunk on faerie wine. I didn’t mean it.” My words are muffled, but judging from his chuckle, he heard them anyway.

“That’s not how it works, Princess. It lowered your inhibitions, made you aroused, yes, but you’ll notice you didn’t pull Pretha into the shower and beg her to touch you.”

No. I’d very specifically wanted Finn, and he had endured my pathetic pleas. “If I had any taste at all, I would have,” I mutter. I roll to my back and frown. “Faerie wine never affected me like that.”

“The wine isn’t to blame. Whatever was in the wine is your culprit.” He places three vials on the bedside table. “If anything ever makes you feel like that again, take one of these at the first sign and get somewhere safe. The elixir will counteract the effects of the drug, but you must take it right away. By the time Pretha got to you last night, it was already working its way through your system and we had to wait it out. Many fae would have taken advantage of you if they’d found you in that condition. They could’ve gotten you to . . . make decisions you might not be ready for when sober.”

But not Finn. “Thank you,” I say, but I can’t get the scowl off my face.

He tosses clothes on my bed. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself and get dressed.”

I throw my pillow at his face. He catches it in one hand and smirks at me. No, not smirks. Smiles. Something’s changed between us, so I risk a question. “Who’s Isabel?”

His light brown skin pales, but for once he doesn’t evade. “Isabel was the woman I loved. I planned to marry her and give her children.” He swallows. “But she died.”

“What happened to her?”

His silver eyes look haunted when he says, “She was mortal.”

“I’m sorry, Finn.”

“But not sorry you finally got some information out of me?” I roll my eyes, and he nods at the clothes in my lap. “You should get dressed.”

“Why?”

“The prince is planning to take you away to the summer palace tonight.”

I don’t want to know how he knows more about my plans with Sebastian than I do.

He cocks his head to the side. “You still want to go, don’t you? Go to the palace, find the book, free your sister?”

“Of course.”

He folds his arms. “So get dressed.”

I point at the door. “After you leave.”

His perfect lips quirk into a mocking smile, and I remember the way they felt against my skin—soft against the sharp sting of his teeth when he bit me. “You didn’t mind stripping in front of me last night.”

“Out!”

* * *

The house is unfamiliar to me, but it’s easy enough to find my way to the kitchen. Finn’s waiting with Kane when I come downstairs. They’re dressed in leather riding pants and vests, with swords strapped to their backs and knives to their thighs. It’s all I can do to keep my eyes off Finn’s powerful legs—all I can do not to remember how intimate I got with those corded muscles last night.

Finn lifts his mug, amusement dancing in his eyes. “We have coffee.”