“Diablo.” Stavros fisted his hands. “I’ve never been tethered,” he said in a hoarse voice. “I’m forty-two years old, and I’ve never had someone feel for me what I feel for them. I’ve never been someone’s anchor, never had someone be that for me.” He spun then, found Daniel a touch away and nearly reached for him. Nearly. “I have never been given a chance, because no one chose me.” He trembled, that ice becoming increasingly unsteady under his weight. “I’m not the person you go to for forever. I wouldn’t go to me for forever. But you—” He touched Daniel then.
