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But what if, just once, he inspired a different emotion? What if he used what made him hard and dangerous to protect something soft and vulnerable?
Someone rare and brilliant and beautiful.
What if, in return, he found the thing he sought most in this world?
Peace.
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When he reached her chin, he gripped it softly between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her face toward his.
“I find myself in the middle of a dance I doona ken the steps to,” he admitted, his eyes gilded by an unholy light as they searched hers for something she could not give him. “When ye’re near me, I doona know what to say or how to act. I canna figure what platitudes to give ye. I never learned the soft words that would reach through the walls that ye’ve built around yer heart.”
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“And then ye came, and ye were in every room. In every corner of my every thought. I could not escape ye, Mena, and then suddenly, I didna want to. I found myself seeking ye out because somehow I knew that I couldna be apart from ye. It was the first happiness I ever knew to look into yer eyes. Ye taught me the meanings to words other than forgiveness and redemption. Desire. Yearning. And love. Ye are my blanket of stars, Mena, my reason to look to the heavens. My map when I am lost and my point of light when all is dark.”