Damon met his gaze, his jaw set. He felt the sting of the command, the crushing weight of the restriction, but he also saw the desperation in Kassian's eyes. He knew he had reached the limit of the Emperor's mercy.
"I understand, Sire," Damon said, his voice thick with a suppressed ache. "I am your Shield. I will protect her. I will not touch her."
"Good," Kassian said, the tension in his shoulders finally beginning to subside. He looked back toward the Royal Wing, toward the window where a faint violet light still flickered.
"She wants a woman to love, not a Goddess to worship," Kassian murmured, more to himself than to Damon. "Then that is what she will have. I will learn her favorite colors. I will learn why she hates the lilies. I will spend every waking moment of the rest of my life proving to her that I know the girl from the Grey District."
He looked at his hands—the hands that had been so rough with her, so quick to claim and slow to understand.
