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“There’s nothing like the draw of the warmth of family to make you want to come in from the cold.”
“The monster in you recognizes the monster in me,” he whispered. “And it wants to play.”
He was aroused by Stavros Konstantinou. By the way he spoke. The way he fought. The way he bled. The way he looked at Daniel.
He’d been dead for years, and this man brought him back to life. His voice. His blood. His eyes. They brought Daniel back to life.
“He might not ask, but he wants your forgiveness. And he might not tell you outright, but he’ll gladly walk into your blade.”
I’ll take the blame for the both of us.
“Because I cannot lose again.”
“Because I’m afraid that what I feel for him might burn brighter, hotter, than what I felt for her.”
“Feelings aren’t something you run from,” Christophe answered softly. “You bring them with you wherever you go.”
“Soy todo tuyo,” he whispered the words into Stavros’ skin. He hooked an arm around Stavros’ thigh and lifted his head, meeting those eyes. They waited for him. “Yo soy tuyo y tú eres mío.” I am yours and you are mine.
“This tin man has a heart, diablo. And it is yours.” He caught Stavros’ hand and brought it up to his chest. Over his heart. “It beats for you.”
“You. You are my heart.”
“I expect you to love me like I love you,” he whispered into that kiss. “I expect you to do right by me, because I will do right by you.” Stavros shuddered. His grip on Daniel faltered. “I expect you to take care of my heart, diablo, because I will take care of yours.”
