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beware the female whose desire to hurt burns hotter than her desire to heal.”
The death that was etched to the earth here does not belong to her alone. The broken and buried are not hers either, but still, the sight of it ignites a wrath in her. Not one that she earned, but one she was born into. One that, despite its age, demands retribution, whether it belongs to her or not.
“Are you going to pretend now that you want me to leave, Sabar? Would you kiss me and then act as though you wish me gone?” “I do not need you.” “Ah, but wanting is not the same as needing, as you so perfectly illustrated tonight.”
“I see how you look at me, Dawsyn,” he says slowly, eyes watching hers. “I look at you the way I look at any annoyance. I know how to separate the wants of my body and my mind.” “Good,” he spits, the muscles beneath his tunic jumping. “Because what you did in that tavern, you will never do again.” She laughs without mirth. “Did it scare you, Ryon? Tell me, what will you do if I kiss you again?” He grabs her wrist and pulls her down the path. “I will bury myself inside you, Dawsyn. And yes, it scares me.”
well damn
Perhaps souls like theirs can only wander so far before they collide.
He believes this is what it must be to belong. He thinks of how he would break anyone who tried to take her hand from his.
“Not once in my life have I changed my mind.” “Liar. You changed your mind in regard to me.” “When I first saw you, I thought you were an intolerable, arrogant maniac with a smart mouth and a pretty face. My mind is unchanged.” “You wound me.”
He can no more explain the compulsion to touch her than he can explain his need for sleep. He does not understand why he is bound to watch her any more than he understands the patterns of the wind. He only knows he tried not to, that he fought it, and that finally succumbing to her feels like a kind of blissful unravelling.
