Sorin sat at the edge of the bed, his hands braced on his thighs, fingers curled in tight fists. The room was quiet, save for the ragged sound of his breathing and the distant crackle of dying embers in the hearth. His control was at its limit. But still, he refused to touch her.

  Calista stood before him, close enough that he could feel her warmth and smell the soft, intoxicating scent of her skin. She was lovely. Her energy had recovered, and it swirled and burst like fireworks beneath that shimmering sun-kissed skin he longed for.

  His pulse thundered in his ears. She shouldn’t be here.

  "You need to leave." His voice was hoarse, strained. "Now."

  She didn’t move. Her eyebrows pinched together to make that familiar groove, and she licked her lips. The white robes she wore whispered as she moved from foot to foot with apprehension, but she made no move to obey.

  Sorin exhaled sharply, forcing himself to look at her, to see the stubborn set of her jaw, the determination gleaming in her luminous eyes. She wasn’t afraid. She should be.

  "Calista," he tried again, his restraint hanging by a thread. "I will hurt you."

  No response. So he tried pleading instead, “Little moon, would you have me beg you?” His voice broke, a pathetic human vocalization he should have loathed. “Please, please leave. I will hurt you.”

  Her lips parted, her breath hitching, but not in fear. Her energy was bright. It shimmered around her head as it often did when she was deep in thought. But more of it made that trek he couldn’t look away from. It moved down between the slopes of her breasts, lower still to her abdomen, before it reached its destination.

  "Then don’t."

  As if it were that simple. As if she didn't understand what he was barely holding back. His eyes were focused between her thighs as if he could see past her robe. It would be so easy to part it and put his mouth on her.

  She reached for him—a delicate touch—too delicate. Her fingertips grazed over the bare skin of his forearm. A spark shuddered through him, sharp and visceral, a pull so deep it stole the air from his lungs. His entire body tensed.

  Don’t. Don’t touch me.

  But he didn’t say it. He couldn’t.

  Instead, a sound rumbled from his chest, low and unsteady. A warning. His eyes gleamed darkly at the stubborn beauty standing before him.

  Calista didn't flinch.

  Her fingers skimmed higher, tracing the bright lines of the god’s mark seared into his skin. The fissures in his skin were more open than ever, and for the first time he could remember, they pained him. Fire licked through him at the contact, hunger unfurling with it, coiling tight and unforgiving.

  His control snapped.

  In a blur, he caught her wrist and pulled her down, twisting until she was beneath him, her back pressing into the sheets. His breath came fast, shallow, as he hovered over her, muscles trembling with restraint.

  Her eyes widened, but not in fear.

  "Tell me to stop," he rasped, though he wasn’t sure he could.

  His little moon simply shook her head, her hungry eyes fixed on his. “Sorin…you need this. And I do too.” A low whisper. “We’re out of time. The castle is crumbling around us. The being inside you is restless. Let’s improvise. Let’s just do what feels right…sometimes destiny is like that.”

  Sorin gritted his teeth, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of her head. This was dangerous. This was madness. She was offering herself to something that was never meant to take gently.

  He had spent centuries devouring those given to him, their life energy pouring into his starving veins. But this—her—he wanted to taste, not consume.

  Calista shifted beneath him, her body brushing his in the worst possible way. A sharp breath left her lips, her head tilting back ever so slightly.

  Sorin swore.

  His hand moved before he could stop it, fingers trailing up the line of her throat. Her pulse fluttered under his touch. Delicate. Mortal. His to break. His to lick and worship and consume.

  A shudder ran through him. He should pull away. He should tear himself from her before it was too late.

  But she turned her head slightly, lips brushing against his knuckles, pressing the faintest kiss to his skin. Heat coiled low in his gut, and a groan tore from his throat as he finally—finally—gave in.

  His lips crashed against hers, desperate, claiming. She met him without hesitation, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, closer, gods, he wanted all of her. He dragged his mouth down her throat, his breath hot against her skin. She arched beneath him, pressing up, and something inside him snapped.

  He could feel it now—the hunger stirring, the god inside him shifting, reaching—

  Sorin wrenched back with a ragged gasp, shaking. "I cannot do this."

  Calista stared up at him, breathless, lips swollen from his kiss. "Yes, you can."

  Her hands slid over his chest, slow, insistent. His muscles tensed beneath her touch. It would be so easy. To take. To lose himself. To let the beast inside him have what it wanted.

  And that was the real fear, wasn’t it? It wasn’t only about hurting her or consuming too much.

  But losing himself completely and going back to that static existence.

  The Hollow Knight. Empty. Starving. Unfeeling.

  He had spent centuries in that void. If he surrendered to this hunger, what if he never found his way back?

  "Stay with me," she whispered, her gaze luring him back to the moment. "You, Sorin. Not him. Not the god." She pressed him down and changed their positions so that she was on top.

  This time she kissed him, slowly, deliberately. She pressed her lips against his in the same way she moved her body, increasing and decreasing pressure, rising and falling until they were both breathless.

  And he realized that for the first time in centuries, he wasn’t starving.

  He was full.

  Sorin shuddered, a low groan escaping his lips as Calista's mouth brushed against his skin. She licked across his lips and then kissed down his jaw. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through his body, igniting a hunger that threatened to consume him entirely.

  "Calista, I...I cannot..." he rasped, even as his hand slid further, his fingers tangling in the silken strands of her hair. He should push her away. He should shove her out into the cold night air and seal the door behind her, locking her out of his twisted world forever.

  But he didn't. He couldn't. Not when the scent of her skin filled his nostrils, the heat of her body seeping into his flesh, the taste of her lips a phantom memory on his tongue. She shifted above him, the soft curves of her body molding to the hard planes of his own, and he felt the last of his resistance crumble away like sand.

  "Little moon," he growled, crashing his lips against hers in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperate hunger. She met him with equal fervor, her hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer, demanding more. He could feel the heat building between them, the air thick with a need that consumed them both.

  Sorin's hands roamed her body, mapping out every dip and curve, committing it to memory. The silk of her robe was a barrier he longed to tear away, to feel her bare skin against his own. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to mark her as his own.

  He hooked his fingers under the hem of her robe, tugging it up slowly, exposing the creamy flesh of her thighs. She shivered as the cool air hit her skin.

  His hand slid up the smooth expanse of her thighs, finally reaching the place he had hungered for.

  Calista let out a soft cry, her hips moving gently toward his hand, and gripped him harder. "Not just me this time, please, will you let me touch you?"

  Sorin shuddered as Calista's plea pierced through the haze of lust clouding his mind. Her words reminded him of the thin line he walked, the precarious control he maintained over the ravenous beast within him. Letting her touch him...it was a risk he had never dared to take before. A risk he knew could spell disaster for them both.

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  He gazed at her, his obsidian eyes searching her face, looking for any hint of deception or hidden motive. But all he saw was a pure, unadulterated desire that mirrored his own. A longing for intimacy, for connection, for the simple pleasure of two bodies joined as one.

  "Little moon," he rasped, his voice rough with emotion and restrained hunger, "If I allow this...if I let you touch me..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing with the effort. "I do not know if I will be able to hold back. The hunger...it is not discriminating. It will want to consume you."

  His hand slid from her thigh, cupping her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. "I am not a gentle man, Calista. I was once. I do not know if I am capable of it anymore."

  She slipped her hand under the rough fabric of his shirt for the first time, feeling the hard panes of his muscles, built from years of training. Her fingertips trailed among the lines of him, and dipped into the glowing fissures that indicated his decay. "Should I be the one to beg now? Please.” Her voice was soft and breathy as her energy started to seep into him of its own accord, like little whispers across his skin everywhere their bodies touched. “Don't just drink of my pleasure, take yours too."

  Sorin cried out as Calista's fingertips traced the glowing fissures etched into his skin. The sensation of her touch, her acceptance, her blatant desire to connect with him on this deepest level...it shook something loose inside him. A long-buried need that had lain dormant for centuries stirred to life, demanding satisfaction.

  He captured her wrist, and with one smooth motion switched their position again. He pinned her hand above her head and his eyes flashed with a hunger that sent a thrill of both fear and anticipation down her spine. "You play a dangerous game, little moon," he growled, his voice a low, guttural rasp. "Offering yourself to me so freely. Begging me to take my pleasure..."

  He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke. "You have no idea what you're asking for. The things I want to do to you, the ways I long to claim you..." A shuddering breath left him, his fingers flexing around her wrist. "I will not be gentle. I will not hold back. I will take everything you have to give, and I will demand more."

  He fought with the needs inside him. The need to let go of her wrist, to surrender to this wave that was washing over them both, and the need to keep her safe.

  I cannot lose my little moon. Even if this world has to burn for it. The beast inside me demands retribution..and so do I.

  “Sorin!” The melody of her voice brought him back to the present. “I think you've held back long enough," she complained and struggled to free her wrist. "Do not do this, let me touch you!"

  The plea in Calista's voice, the desperate need to be touched, to be wanted, to be claimed by him in the most primal way imaginable...it shattered the last vestiges of Sorin's resistance. With a feral growl, he released her wrist and gripped the hem of his shirt, tearing it off in one swift motion. The fabric ripped like paper in his hands, baring the sculpted expanse of his chest to her avid gaze.

  Calista's breath caught in her throat as she drank in the sight of him. The flickering candlelight cast shadows and highlights over the hard planes of his muscles, the deep cuts and ridges that spoke of a warrior's physique honed by centuries of battle and strife. Scars crisscrossed his flesh, mementos of the countless skirmishes he had endured, each one a testament to his indomitable will to live.

  And the cracks...oh gods, the cracks. They bisected his chest, glowing like trails of liquid stardust against the warm brown of his skin. They pulsed with a strange, otherworldly light, a visual representation of the power that resided within him. As Calista watched, they throbbed and widened, as if beckoning her touch.

  Sorin watched her through hooded eyes, his expression one of dark anticipation. He knew she could see the decay, the physical manifestation of his slow disintegration. He knew she could feel the heat that radiated from his skin, the fevered warmth that spoke of a body pushed to its limits and beyond. And yet, she did not recoil. She did not shy away. Instead, she reached out.

  Her nails dug into his shoulders as she lifted herself to take his nipple into her mouth. She swirled her tongue and used her teeth to tease him. All the while he could see her energy filling and pulsating as if longing to enter him.

  A harsh groan tore from Sorin's throat as Calista's mouth worked, her tongue teasing and teasing until he felt the bite of her teeth. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through him. His hands fisted in the sheets, claws digging into the fabric as he fought the urge to grab her and take her hard and fast, without preamble or mercy.

  But he held himself back. Barely. With great effort, he gentled his touch, his hands sliding down to rest on the curve of her hips. He could feel the heat of her body seeping into his palms, the way her flesh yielded so sweetly to his touch. His fingers tightened, pressing her closer, urging her on as her mouth worked magic on his skin.

  The sight of her, of his little moon, her shimmering hair tumbling around her shoulders, her lips wrapped around his nipple, her eyes closed in bliss as she pleasured him...it sparked something deep and primal within him. A need to possess, to claim, to make her his in every way possible.

  He tangled a hand in her hair, his fingertips brushing the nape of her neck as he held her to him. "That's it, little moon," he rasped, his voice ragged with need, "take what you want from me."

  His other hand slid down to cup the curve of her ass, squeezing the firm flesh, pulling her harder against him. He could feel the heat of her, separated from his own by only the thin fabric of his trousers. The knowledge that so little stood between them, the knowledge that he could so easily push her onto her back and sheath himself inside her...

  "Touch me, Calista," he commanded, his voice a low, urgent growl. "Put your hands on me. Make me feel alive."

  I’m desperate. Desperate to be myself again. I can only be that way with you, my lovely light.

  Her mouth and hands mapped out his body. Teeth and tongue and nails all used to bring him closer to ecstasy as she wrapped her legs around one of his thick thighs, grinding against it and shamelessly chasing her own pleasure.

  A guttural groan tore from Sorin's throat as Calista's nails raked down his chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake. The mix of pleasure and pain sent a bolt of white-hot lust straight through his body.

  "Greedy girl," he panted, his voice rough and ragged with desire. "So eager for your pleasure."

  He could feel the energy pulsing off her in waves as she touched him, could see it shimmering in the air around them like a palpable force. It called to him, begged him to reach out and take it, to draw it into himself and sate the endless hunger that gnawed at his insides.

  But he hesitated. Because this moment, this joining, this connection with her...it was more than just a physical act. It was a choice. A decision to let go of the pain of his past and reach for something more. But neither of them knew what that would be.

  She pressed her mouth to his throat leaving hungry red marks as she rolled her hips against his thigh, her moans muffled by his skin.

  Sorin's head fell back with a guttural moan as Calista's teeth sank into the tender flesh of his throat. Her hips undulated against his thigh...it was almost too much for Sorin to bear.

  He could feel the power building inside her, the energy she had been cultivating and honing. It pulsed and thrummed against his skin, begging to be released, begging to be taken. And gods help him, he wanted to take it. He wanted to rip it from her and consume it, to let it fill up the aching void that had consumed him for centuries.

  But something held him back. Something that felt an awful lot like...fear. Fear of losing himself entirely, of letting the hunger consume the last vestiges of his humanity until there was nothing left but the monster.

  So instead of taking, he gave. His hips nestled between her thighs, the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against her slick, swollen sex. He gripped her wrists, pinning them above her head as he gazed down at her with eyes that glowed with a fevered light.

  "Let me feel you come apart beneath me. Give yourself to me, completely and utterly."

  Her body tensed and she let out the sweetest cry. He resisted the urge to swallow the energy that buzzed within her. Not yet. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, tasting her in a different way. Then, he sat back and looked upon the vision that was her, even as the monster warred within to take everything she had.

  As the last aftershocks faded, he sat back, his eyes roaming over the vision of her splayed out beneath him. Mussed hair, flushed cheeks, swollen lips...she looked every inch the goddess, her beauty almost too radiant to behold. And somehow, impossibly, she was his. His little moon, his sweet, brave, stubborn Calista.

  But the monster within him was not so easily sated. It raged and roared, enraged by the taste of her pleasure, the way it had slipped through his fingers like sand. It demanded more. It demanded all.

  With a low growl, Sorin reached down and untied his trousers, shoving them down his hips in one swift motion.

  He crawled up her body, one hand fisting in her hair, the other gripping her thigh. He could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the way her body trembled as it sensed his intent. And gods help him, he wanted to be inside her.

  But he held himself back. Because this was not about him. Not this time. This was about her. About showing her the pleasure that could be found in surrender, in trust, in love.

  "Look at me, little moon," he commanded, his voice rough and low in the stillness of the room. "I want to see your face when I enter you. I want to see the way your eyes change, the way your mouth falls open in a silent scream of rapture."

  As Sorin hilted himself inside Calista, a shudder wracked through his entire being. The sensation of her, so hot and tight and impossibly perfect, was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was a revelation, a rebirth, a baptism by ecstasy that washed away the sins of a thousand years of solitude and anguish.

  It was as if her body was welcoming him home, embracing him, cherishing him in a way that he had never been cherished before. He felt a rush of emotion, a maelstrom of longing and desire and something that felt an awful lot like...love.

  It was a foreign concept to him, this feeling. He had thought it lost to him, sacrificed on the altar of his cursed existence. But here, now, buried deep inside his little moon, he felt it stir to life once more. It was a tentative thing, fragile and new, but it was undeniably real.

  He began to move, his hips rolling and rocking against hers in a primal rhythm. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure racing along his spine, each retreat left him aching for more.

  Sorin could feel the energy building between them, the power that had been growing with every touch, every kiss, every stolen moment. It crackled in the air like electricity, waiting to be unleashed, waiting to be consumed.

  He could take it. He could reach out, could tear it from her and absorb it into himself, could use it to fuel the creature that dwelled within him. But as he gazed down at her, at the beauty and love shining in her eyes, he knew that he could not. That this moment, this joining, was about so much more than just feeding a monster.

  “Sorin!” She reached up towards him, and he took her hand and kissed it. He slowed his hips for a moment, teasing them both with a few languid thrusts.

  The ancient prince smiled as he looked at the woman who had once been a sacrifice. But he understood now. She had been sent to him not as a sacrifice, but as salvation.

  Still holding her hand tight, he leaned down to kiss her. She was rolling her hips impatiently, and he chuckled a bit before increasing the tempo of his thrusts again. “Thank you,” he whispered as he slid a hand between their bodies to help her chase that sharp edge of pleasure. They were both so close to it.

  His smile widened as she called his name. Again, and again, until finally he started to lose his control. When she clenched around him and cried out, he kissed her neck and whispered again.

  He whispered three things to her.

  Thank you. I love you. I’m sorry.