“Poppy.” My gaze shot back to him, and my heart twisted. He sounded tortured. Broken. “That’s your name,” he said, his tone steady again, comforting. “My name is Casteel.” A spasm rolled through me, and my lips mouthed the word. Tasted it. “And you are my—” “I know what I am,” I said in a low, hoarse whisper that scratched my throat. “I know what you are.” The muscles of his shoulders tensed. “And what are we?” My spine straightened as I inhaled his scent once more. “You…you are the end, but I’m the beginning and the end.”
