“Thank you.” I tilt my head, wanting to kiss her, chasing that contact, until the words sink in, and I pause. “Thank you?” My voice is a rasp now. “For what?” “All of it,” she says. “For waiting. For falling in love with me. For trusting me. Enduring me. All of it.” Heavens save me. I lean into her, pinning her harder against the wall with my entire body, pressing the ridge of my arousal into her belly. Even then, I still hold back. “I don’t want your thanks, Lyra,” I snarl. But the way she always does when she should fear me, she smiles instead. “What do you want, then?” Everything. “Your
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