She tilts her head back, moaning softly. “That feels so good. I’ve never had anyone wash my hair before.” “You’ll never have to wash your hair again now that I’m here. I enjoy taking care of you.” “Don’t make promises you won’t keep, or I’ll be very disappointed.” “I don’t make promises. I make vows. I make oaths.” I tug her head by her soapy hair, forcing her to meet my gaze. “What’s the difference?” she asks, eyes closing from how relaxed she is as I wash her hair. “Promises are for children. Vows and Oaths are for the ones who put their hearts, and their lives on the line. Not even death is
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