He blinks, and my words trail off, fear cutting through my chest like knives.
The second his eyes find mine once more, I know the moment is over. His mask is back in place.
“You’re right. We should get ready. They’ll be waiting for us.”
He releases me and rolls away, sitting on the side of the bed with his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Hide from them if you have to, Daemon. But not from me, please. I’m begging you.”
Silence follows, and it wrecks me.
Pushing to sit up, I stare at his back, watching the controlled movements of his breathing.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he says ominously before getting to his feet.
“I think I do,” I argue, frustration making my words sharper than I intended. “I’ve seen your worst, and I’m still here, Daemon. I’m still asking.”
He stops at the door, his fingers wrapped around the handle, ready to escape.
“Then maybe you need to really think about that. Because any sane person wouldn’t be.”
“Daemon, I—” But it’s too late. He’s already gone, and whatever side of him I experienced last night has vanished with him.