Don't Go Yet

“On the battlefield, I watch for you,” he says, and there is something distinctly rueful to his voice. “It has cost me an injury or two.”

She would chide him if she didn’t do the same. “I watch you in Order meetings, and when you’re asleep. In fact, I can’t seem to help it.”

“Why?” she croaks out. His palm brushes the tremble of her heart, and she can’t help but lean into him. It’s yours, she wants to say.

“I think if someone were to open me up, my insides would be a mess made up of you.”

Or: Stay, With Me.