He lifted his face to me, a million unsaid words in his eyes.
I drew another breath, preparing for the last cut.
“I’m not Sawyer Galloway.”
This was it. I had to get the words out.
“I’m Princess Savannah Calloway.”
He stood, the movement abrupt, almost violent. I flinched.
I stood as well. “Daughter of Declan Calloway.” I said it to his back, a plea as much as a confession.
He turned slowly, his eyes narrowing.
“King of the Eastern Wolves.” The words came out broken, desperate. “I’m so sorry.”
He took a step toward me, then another. I tried to shrink back, but there was nowhere left to go.
He reached me, his breath warm against my skin. I couldn’t stop shaking.
“You know how dangerous it is for you to be here.”
“Yes.” It was barely a whisper.
“You know what will happen when they find out.”
The fear rose, drowning me.
I nodded, unable to speak.
“You think you’re leaving?”
A tear slipped down my cheek.
“I think I have to. I’m trying to,” I said. “It’s not working.”
His hand brushed against my hair. The touch was enough to break me.
“Don’t.” He said it like a command, but his voice was gentler than I’d expected.
“Don’t what?” I asked shakily.
“Don’t try.”
“I can’t stay.” My words were so soft I wondered if he’d heard them.
He answered by pulling me closer, the way I’d dreamed he would.
I buried my head against his chest, dizzy with relief. With his scent.
“Honey and roses,” he said, his breath stirring the loose strands of my hair.
“What?”
“What I smelled that night at Pearl’s.”
I drew back enough to look at him, heart in my throat. His face was softer than I’d ever seen.
