her now, to hold her for a few more hours. He’d trespassed already by being with her. He owed it to Damara to keep her safe, even from himself.
He sat next to her and put his arm around her slim shoulders.
She melted into him as if they were two pieces of the same whole.
Byron couldn’t let himself make that comparison—not now, not ever. He pushed it out of his head.
“Everything is going to be fine, Damara.”
“Do you swear?”
It seemed like such a little-girl thing for her to ask him. So full of trust and promise, brimming with hope. Byron knew it would be kinder to be honest, but he found he couldn’t. He’d have promised her the moon would taste like peaches if that was what would make her happy.
“I swear.”
She sighed and leaned her head against his chest, wrinkling his shirt.
Byron didn’t care about wrinkles. He just wanted her to feel safe.
“I wish you were going with me.”
“I have to stay here. I’ll make sure you get on the plane safely. Then another operative will get you to Renner.”
“I don’t know the other operative,” she said, her voice small.
“You don’t know me, either.”
“I know enough.”
The part of him that was infected with guilt wanted to confess to her why she was wrong. It wanted to tell her every bad thing he’d ever done, and it wanted her to hate him for it.
“Don’t trust anyone but yourself, Princess.”
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