He hesitated, and she buried her face in his shoulder, certain he’d set her aside and reenter the battle. But he was injured and spent, and it would not end well. Panic rose in her throat, and she whispered the only thing she could think of that would get him to stay: “Please. Don’t leave me.”
His hands were hot against her back, both of them soaked with the blood of their enemies. “Lara . . .” His voice was pained, and she knew he was seeing the bodies of his people. That he was seeing his bodyguards, fighting and faltering against the enemy.
You could fight.
You could fight for him and save these people.