He treasured her, treasured her tears, treasured her love for others. Her heart might even be big enough to fill that empty space in his own chest. Perhaps she could be his heart as well.

He watched her retreat, his eyes lazy, and his body unmoving. A trickle of blood seeped slowly from the corner of his mouth. He let her get nearly out of the room before he spoke, “I may not have the right, Silence, me love,” he drawled so soft she nearly didn’t catch the words. “But I would’ve listened to ye. I would’ve believed ye.

You say my name like a lover, so soft, so sweet. I want to lick the word from your lips, sip the exhaled breath from your mouth. I want to possess you utterly. Right now. Right here.

He grinned, though his face was strained. “That’s it, love. Use me to make yerself feel good.

I love you," she sobbed, rubbing her hands over his face, his hair, his chest, making sure he was solid and real. "I love you, and I thought you were dead. I couldn't bear it. I thought I would die too." "I'd walk through fire for you," he rasped, his voice hoarse and broken. "I have walked through fire for you.

But like the legless man, I'm unaccountably fascinated by those who can dance.

Griffin, please,” she whispered. “Do you want me?” he asked. “Yes!” She tossed her head restlessly. She’d explode if he didn’t give her release soon. “Do you need me?” He kissed her nipple too gently. “Please, please, please.” “Do you love me?” And somehow, despite her extremis, she saw the gaping hole of the trap. She peered up at him blindly in the dark. She couldn’t see his face, his expression. “Griffin,” she sighed hopelessly. “You can’t say it, can you?” he whispered. “Can’t admit it either.