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“I’m yours,”
“To whatever end,” he breathed.
“To whatever end.” For too long—for too long had he been alone and wandering. No longer.
There were no words in his eyes; none in hers, either. Words did not do it justice. Not in any language, in any world. He leaned in, claiming her mouth as he began to move, and they let go entirely.
And she wondered if it were possible to love someone enough to die from it. If it were possible to love someone enough that time and distance and death were of no concern.
He would try to live up to that honor—try to find some way to prove he deserved it. That she hadn’t bet on the wrong horse. Somehow. He’d earn it.
“that he still looks at you the way he does.”
he’d noticed her.
“Why should I have trusted you,”
But this … there was a line. Somehow … somehow there was a gods-damned line here.
And when the time came … I took my chance.
“Everything has a price.”
“I once told you to find me again—it
… and never see her again.
“You get a choice,”
