His words were the rawest proof of the absolute love he felt. But, along with the emotion, a spark of irritation ignited in my chest.
He still saw me as the piece that needed to be kept locked in a safe. He still thought the weight of keeping me alive was exclusively his to bear.
I pulled back a little. Just enough to hold his tear-stained face in both my hands. His black eyes, obsidian pools normally cold and calculating, now reflected only the raw despair of a man who almost lost his only anchor.
I let him cry. I let the weight of the Leader of the Goden facade crumble to the floor in the silence of our living room. I stayed there, holding his face firmly, being the wall he could crumble against.
When his breathing finally began to calm down and the tremors lessened, I looked at him. My gaze held no pity. It held the determination of someone who had killed that afternoon just to return to his arms.
