"Then I'm yours," he said in a fragile voice. He took my hand and set it on his throat, his pulse under my fingertips. "Yours to harm or to harbor, and yours to succor or to strike. Set a collar around my neck, and I will submit. Set a crown on my head, and I will stand sovereign. But I beg thee, set thy hand over my heart, and claim what longs to be claimed." Vaduin's fingers traced over my face, seeing what his eyes could not. "Because I love you," he whispered, trembling, "and I'm already yours."
