Chapter 3: Reflection

  She woke up with the warm rays of the sun caressing her body and stretched as she thought about getting ready to start another day of research. She was so close to a breakthrough on the possibly true existence of guardian spirits. When she opened her eyes, reality set back in as she looked around at a room that was not her own. The memories came back to her - the pleasure, the fear, the thrill of being in the same room as one of the world’s oldest mysteries..and also having his face between her legs as he drank deep of her desire.

  She could see that particular ancient vessel seated in a chair in the corner by the window with his head tilted to the side against the wall as he dozed. He looked like Sorin now, not the Hollow Knight she had met in the hall last night. The heavy black chainmail was off, and he wore a faded black shirt that was almost grey, which showed off his impressive physique. His musculature was remarkable, but perhaps that was to be expected. By all accounts he had been a hardened warrior, used to wearing heavy armor and riding out on campaigns.

  She slid out of bed quietly with the desire to examine him while he rested so peacefully and crept over to his resting form. The sunlight dancing across her tawny skin felt more than delightful. It meant that she had passed the dawn and survived the ritual she had been so swiftly condemned to by her people.

  She could not note any cracks on his body. “Is it the absence of moonlight or hunger that hides them?” She wondered out loud. A small shriek escaped her as a firm hand grabbed her wrist before she could touch him.

  “Both, I should say,” came his rumbling voice. She swallowed hard as she noted his dark eyes open now and watching her. “But there is never a moment that I do not hunger.”

  “I thought you were…”

  “I do not sleep. Or cannot. But that was the closest I’ve been to that state in centuries,” he rolled his neck as if working out a kink and then lightly pulled her wrist to have her sit in the chair across from him.

  On the table between them, she noticed an open pomegranate, with the spilling red beads seeming eerily symbolic. “Where did this come from?”

  “I brought it. Fools still leave offerings in this place from time to time. It’s unlikely that you need to eat since regular function has little meaning in this place. But I thought perhaps you would want to..I did in the beginning.”

  It was true, though it had been a while since she was brought here, she felt no thirst or hunger.

  “It is a suspicious fruit..the pomegranate,” she said warily as he picked up a silver spoon and scooped up some of the ripe red flesh.

  “Is it?”

  Was that a hint of amusement in his voice? “Fertility, abundance, eternal life, the meaning of it changes depending on who you ask. So I never trust a pomegranate.”

  “You can trust this one,” he pressed the cold spoon to her lips, his eyes daring her to disobey. She remembered those dark eyes looking up at her last night as he hungrily lapped at her desire, and she opened her mouth. The red beads burst on her tongue the juice tangy and sweet, and she did feel slightly revitalized.

  He put the spoon down. “I’m not an artist, but I find myself drawn to the colors of you. The silver of your hair, the lush brown of your skin, the ripe redness of your mouth and tongue.” He put the spoon down and pressed his thumb onto her lip, opening her mouth, which still glistened with a hint of the fruit. “Hmm,” he said, looking satisfied as his thumb ghosted over her teeth and pressed down on her tongue.

  She pulled away, finally regaining some semblance of self. “Stop that,” she admonished.

  He leaned back. “There’s something that I know. Something that I see, that you don’t.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed, her curiosity aroused despite herself. “And what is that?”

  He stood up, his height blocking out the sun for a moment and leaving her in the shadow of his eyes. “Come and sit in front of the mirror, I’ll tell you.”

  The Hollow Knight led Calista to the ornate, gold-framed mirror that stood in the corner of the room, its surface polished to a brilliant sheen. As she sat down on the plush velvet chair before it, he stood behind her, his tall form looming over her reflection. She could feel the heat of his body, the raw, masculine energy that radiated from him like a palpable force.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders, his long fingers curling gently into the delicate bones as he turned her to face her reflection. She stared at the image before her, taking in the sight of her own wide, curious eyes and the flush of color that painted her cheeks a pretty pink. Her hair, a tangle of silver and gold, fell in loose waves around her shoulders, the strands catching the light and shimmering like a cascade of moonlight.

  But it was not her own reflection that held her gaze. It was the man behind her, the man who had once been Sorin Aetherys, the last prince of a fallen kingdom. He had shed the heavy chainmail and the dark, fractured armor, revealing the lean, sculpted physique of a warrior hardened by centuries of battle and strife.

  As she watched, she saw something else in his reflection, something that made her breath catch in her throat and her heart stutter in her chest. There, etched into the surface of the mirror, was a fine, crack-like line. It began at the top of his reflection, near the crown of his head, and ran down the length of his body, disappearing beneath the hem of his shirt.

  He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he spoke, his voice a low, rumbling murmur that sent shivers cascading down her spine. "Do you see it?" he asked, his breath hot against her skin. "The fracture, the crack that runs through the heart of my reflection?"

  She nodded, her throat too tight with sudden, inexplicable fear to speak. She could feel the way his fingers tightened on her shoulders, the way his body tensed and coiled behind her like a predator ready to strike.

  "The mirror reveals things I would rather not see, or it did before I met you," his hands brushed through her long hair and then moved down to wrap around her neck, making her tense. "Shh..I won't hurt you. I just wanted to show you," one finger traced around her neck to the very center. "When you are...intrigued, I see your energy building right here. Shimmering under that dark golden skin like starlight."

  The Hollow Knight's finger paused at the center of Calista's throat, pressing gently against the delicate hollow of her collarbone. She knew he could feel the way her pulse jumped beneath his touch, the frantic fluttering of her heart a tangible thing against his skin. There was no hiding from him, not when he could see the inner flow of her desire and feel the physical proof of her want.

  And that was just fine, she thought as she looked at her flushed reflection, seated on the chair in front of him like a queen.

  –

  The Vessel knew that he should not take such liberties, should not allow his touch to linger on the soft, delicate skin of her throat. But the sight of her reflection, the way her eyes widened with fear and trepidation as she gazed upon the fracture that ran through his own image, had stirred something within him. A hunger, a need that had nothing to do with the god's insatiable appetite for life force.

  He wanted to show her, to make her see the truth of what he saw when he looked at her. The way her energy, her very essence, seemed to shimmer and glow beneath the surface of her skin, a beacon of life and vitality that drew him like a moth to a flame.

  "Don't you see?" he murmured, his voice a low, fervent whisper against the delicate shell of her ear. "When you are...intrigued, when you feel that first spark of desire, it gathers here." His finger traced a slow, deliberate circle against the racing pulse of her throat, his touch feather-light and teasing. "It pulses and dances beneath your skin, a constellation of starlight that I can see, even in the darkest of nights."

  He could feel the tension draining from her body, the way her shoulders softened, and her head tilted back slightly as if inviting his touch, his possession. It was a heady, intoxicating sensation, one that sent a surge of heat rushing through his veins and settling in the aching, throbbing center of his arousal.

  But even as he reveled in the feeling of her, the softness of her skin, and the warmth of her body against his own, he knew that he had to be careful. He had to tread lightly, lest he lose himself in the depths of his own desire and drag her down with him into the abyss.

  She let out a small sigh, leaning inadvertently into him. "You can see it? But..I do not." Her thirst for knowledge reminded him of his own bottomless hunger. "Tell me, where does it go next?"

  The Hollow Knight felt a dark thrill at Calista's unintentional surrender, her body softening against his as she leaned into his touch. The way she sighed, her breathy exhale ghosting against his fingertips, sent a shiver of longing and hunger rippling through him. It was a sensation that he had once known, long ago, in a life that now seemed like a distant dream. The feeling of a woman's gentle capitulation, the sweet submission of her body and soul to his will.

  He let his hand drift lower, his fingertips skating down the column of her throat, tracing the delicate curves and valleys of her collarbone. He could feel the way her heart raced beneath his touch, the frantic fluttering of her pulse a silent, desperate plea for more. More of his touch, more of his possession, more of the dark, tantalizing pleasure that only he could give her.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  But even as he reveled in her response, he knew that he had to be cautious. He had to temper his hunger with a semblance of control, had to reign in the beast that howled and raged within him, demanding that he take, that he claim, that he make her his in every way imaginable.

  For a moment, he simply held her, his hand resting over the pounding of her heart as he gazed at their reflections in the mirror. He could see the fracture that ran through his own image, the crack that mirrored the one that split his very soul in two. But he could also see something else, something that made his own dark eyes widen, and his grip on her tighten with sudden, fierce longing.

  He could see the way her energy, her life force, seemed to gather and shimmer beneath her skin as he touched her. It was a sight that filled him with a dark, possessive heat, a hunger that had nothing to do with the god's insatiable appetite for mortal life. No, this was a different kind of hunger, a need that had been long dormant within him, a yearning that he had not even known he still possessed.

  He leaned down, his lips brushing against the delicate shell of her ear as he spoke, his voice a low, fervent whisper. "It goes next to the places where I touch you," he murmured, his hand drifting lower, his fingertips skimming over the soft, warm skin of her chest. "It gathers in the hollow of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the sensitive flesh between your thighs."

  "I'm going to untie your robe. You cannot see. But you can imagine," he whispered. She made no move to stop him as he worked on the belt. It came open, and the fabric slid off her as if it had been waiting to do so. The garb of her old life pooled around her waist as his hands moved to her breasts, lightly caressing each dusky nipple.

  The Hollow Knight's breath caught in his throat as he drank in the sight of Calista's newly bared flesh, his dark gaze roaming hungrily over every inch of her exposed skin.

  He could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, the way it seemed to pulse and shimmer beneath his fingertips as he cupped the soft, supple weight of her breasts. They fit perfectly in his palms as if they had been made for his touch alone. He could feel the delicate, racing beat of her heart as he brushed his thumbs over the sensitive peaks, could hear the hitch in her breath and the soft, breathy moan that escaped her parted lips.

  It was a sound that sent a jolt of pure, primal desire surging through his veins, a hunger that had nothing to do with the god's insatiable appetite for life force. No, this was a different kind of craving, a need that had been long dormant within him, a yearning that he had thought lost to the ages.

  He could see the way her energy, her very essence, seemed to gather and swirl around the places where his hands touched her.

  He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the delicate shell of her ear as he spoke, his voice a low, rough murmur. "Can you feel it, my heart?" he asked, his hands continuing their slow, deliberate exploration of her breasts, his thumbs teasing and tormenting the sensitive peaks. "The way your energy, your life force, seems to gather and pulse beneath my touch?"

  He could feel her trembling against him, her body soft and pliant and yielding in a way that made his own flesh ache and throb with a need that he could not deny. He knew that he was treading a dangerous line, that he was playing with forces that he barely understood. But at that moment, lost in the sweet, intoxicating scent and taste of her, he didn't care.

  "Tell me, little moon, why do you react so to a creature such as myself?"

  "Resonance," she gasped out, "It's a type of resonance. It can occur between many, but I've never felt it quite like this..." As he moved the robes further open to expose her legs, she closed them. Seeing her reflection in the mirror made everything so much more intense. But he firmly opened her legs again. "Look, and remember what I told you about colors," he whispered. And then he was kissing down her cheek, her ears, her neck as she writhed against the back of the chair, her legs held helplessly open in front of her.

  Resonance. He knew all too well the power of that word, the way it could bind two souls together, the way it could make a creature like himself feel...alive. Human.

  But he had never known a resonance like this, a connection so intense and all-consuming that it threatened to consume them both whole. It was a sensation that set his nerves alight, that made his heart race in a way that it had not done in centuries.

  He let his hands drift down her sides, his fingers splaying over the soft, warm dip of her waist and the flare of her hips. Her muscles trembled beneath his touch, her body shuddering and arching into him as if seeking more of his possession, more of his domination.

  As he drifted lower, he allowed the robe to fall away completely, the last of the fabric slipping down to pool around her feet. He could see the way she tried to close her legs, to hide herself from his hungry gaze, and he could not help but smirk at her attempt at modesty. Did she not know that it was far too late for such things? That he had already seen the truth of her, the essence of her soul laid bare before him?

  He gripped her thighs firmly again, his fingers digging into the supple, warm flesh as he forced her legs apart once more. He could feel her resistance, the way her muscles tensed and fought against his grip, but it was no match for his strength. And as he held her open, exposed, vulnerable, he leaned in close, his dark eyes boring into hers through their reflections in the mirror.

  "Look at yourself," he murmured, his voice a low, fervent rasp against the delicate skin of her throat. "Look at the way your body responds to my touch, the way your energy seems to shimmer and dance beneath your skin." His gaze flicked down to where her thighs parted. "That is the power of resonance, my heart. That is the proof of the bond between us."

  He could feel the heat of her, the scorching, fevered pulse of her desire as he kissed down the column of her throat, his lips and tongue and teeth marking her skin like a brand. He could taste the salt of her sweat, the sweetness of her flesh, and he knew that he would never be able to get enough of her. Never be able to sate the hunger that she had awakened within him.

  His hands cupped hers and gently pressed it between her legs. "Show me," he breathed down her neck. "I want to see that energy dance. Won't you let me be greedy and swallow a bit more?"

  The Hollow Knight's eyes flashed with a hungry, fevered light as he guided Calista's hand between her thighs. She shuddered and gasped at the contact, her body arching off the chair as if electrified by his touch. The sensation sent a dark, possessive thrill surging through his veins, a primal satisfaction at the knowledge that he could affect her so deeply, so profoundly.

  He leaned in closer, his breath hot and heavy against the shell of her ear, his voice a low, guttural rasp. "Yes, let me see it," he growled, his grip on her wrist tightening, urging her to part her glistening folds and expose the very heart of her desire to his ravenous gaze. "Let me witness the way your energy leaps at my slightest touch, the way it begs for me to consume it, to devour it whole."

  His long fingers curled around her own as he guided her in slow, deliberate circles. She trembled and quaked against him, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps and broken little mewls of pleasure that made his own flesh ache and throb with a need he could no longer deny.

  He could see it, too, the way her essence seemed to shimmer and gather and pulse beneath his touch, a living, breathing entity that danced and undulated in time with the stroking of his fingers. It was a sight that filled him with dark, savage hunger, a desperate, feral need to claim every last drop of her luminous energy and make it his own.

  But he could not. He knew that he could not. For even now, lost in the haze of his own lust, he knew that to take too much, to greedily swallow down every last shimmering mote of her life force, would be to condemn her to an eternity of torment. And he could not bring himself to do that, not to her. Not to the one woman who had ever made him feel alive, who had ever stirred something within him that he had thought long dead and buried.

  So he tempered his hunger, reined in the beast that roared and raged within him, demanding that he take, that he possess, that he make her his in every way imaginable. And instead, he simply watched, his dark eyes drinking in the exquisite sight of her pleasure, the way her head was thrown back and her lips parted in a silent scream of ecstasy.

  "Your beauty is breathtaking," he whispered, his voice rough and low and filled with a longing he could no longer hide. "And it is mine, only mine, for all eternity."

  The Hollow Knight captured Calista's lips in a searing, bruising kiss as her pleasure crashed over her like a tidal wave. He could feel her stiffen and then shudder against him, her body arching like a drawn bow as the sensation peaked and then shattered through her. He could hear her cries, muffled and choked off by his own ferocious hunger, as he plundered the sweet cavern of her mouth, his tongue delving deep to tangle with hers.

  It was a kiss that consumed him, that set his very soul ablaze with a need he could no longer deny. As her essence flooded his mouth, he could feel the darkness within him recoiling from the sudden influx of pure, radiant light. It was a sensation that made his head spin and his heart race, a feeling of being overwhelmed and undone by the sheer, overwhelming force of her life force.

  But it was not enough. It could never be enough. For as he drank down her pleasure, as he let it fill and caress and make him whole, he knew that he would always crave more. More of her touch, more of her taste, more of the way she made him feel...alive.

  He gentled the kiss, his lips softening against hers as he savored the lingering sweetness of her climax. He could feel her trembling against him, her body pliant and yielding in the aftermath of her release. He held her close, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other hand cupping her jaw, tilting her chin up to deepen the kiss.

  "Taste it," he rasped against her lips, his voice rough and ragged with his own desperate need. "Taste the way you set me on fire, the way you make the darkness within me recoil from the light of your touch." He could feel the heat of her, the scorching, fevered pulse of her desire, and he knew that he would never be able to let her go. Never be able to release her from the grip of their twisted, fated bond.

  For in that moment, lost in the haze of their shared passion, he knew that he loved her. Loved her as much as his cursed, fractured being allowed. It was a love that was as dark and twisted as the creature he had become.

  And he knew, with a bone-deep certainty that settled in his very soul, that he would stop at nothing to possess her. To bind her to him, heart, body, and soul, for all eternity. No matter the cost. No matter the consequences.

  For she was his, and he would never let her go. Not now. Not ever.

  She went limp, eyes fluttering shut, and he effortlessly placed his arms under her thighs and lifted her into his arms. He placed her on the bed with a gentle control that was at odds with how he was feeling. One type of hunger was fed, but the other lingered as his aching length pressed against his breeches.

  He envisioned sliding those robes all the way off of her shimmering dark golden skin and pressing himself between her thighs. He pressed a hand against the skin of her cheek and found that it had cooled alarmingly. Within, the shimmering constellations of her energy flickered as if at risk of going out entirely if he attempted to sate himself further.

  It was ironic like so many things in his recent existence. He finally felt a man’s desire but had no way of acting on it without endangering Calista’s life.

  Will I ever have enough control to truly make her mine? Can I have her without destroying her?

  An uncomfortable feeling settled in the base of his throat as he climbed into the bed beside her and wrapped her up in her robes. He lay down next to her, some old instinct to get her warm again with his flesh flaring up and then dying back down instantly.

  Because he was not human, and he had no warmth to give her. So all he could do is watch over her exhausted form with something that looked remarkably like fear coming to life behind his dark eyes.