Page 109 of Devil in Her Details

His doe-eyed lynx.

Unfortunately, unlike with his brothers, they couldn’t stay together.

He was the worst arse.

She’d accepted him without question even after he had treated her like shite, and he was still bloody leaving her. Words failed him then. They still failed him now. But by Christ, he didn’t want to be the ruin of her. Reduce her to a laughingstock. By all damn accounts, he should have stayed away from that moment on. The moment she left the dungeon. But he had to see her again. He couldn’t let her leave without having that last glimpse. That last touch. He hadn’t expected her eagerness. The lovemaking.

He hadn’t declined her affection either.

Dagger, you’re a damn best.

Saint’s words returned like a blow to his gut.

You will let go. That’s how you’re different.

Damn cruel in their timing. He’d wanted to argue then. He wanted to argue now. But arguing required him to deceive himself. His brother had known him better than he’d known himself. Some men held on. Maxen and Drake had. He was about to prove, in the space of a single dawn, that he was not one of them.

But she was leaving with her brother, too.

Don’t justify your behavior, arse.

“Lilly,” he whispered into her ear. “Lilly, it’s dawn. I need to go before your brother finds me here and takes my hide.”

She murmured sleepily but didn’t wake.

He pressed his lips against her temple.

“Lilly.” Hell’s bells, his chest was bloody killing him. “You mean the world to me. Remember that.”

She didn’t stir. Just made a small sound against his chest and burrowed closer, her fingers curling slightly into his shirt, holding on even in sleep.

He let himself have another moment.

One more.

Just one. He had learned to accept only what was allotted to him. He had applied the principle to everything over the years. Food, trust, family. He had never once let himself want more than the situation warranted. He’d been damn selfish last night. He’d been selfish ever since he’d met her, to be fair. Sleeping in her bed. Brushing her hair. Taking pleasure from her hands. Her body. Yes, he had failed, spectacularly and completely, with her.

He wanted too damn much.

He wanted everything.

Christ, he just wanted her to smell his shirts with absolutely no shame for the rest of her life.

He’d lost his damn head.

He had completely and utterly lost his head for this woman.

Dagger shut his eyes before inhaling a deep breath.

Time to go.

He gently inched out of bed, easing his arm from beneath her, pausing each time she shifted, careful to arrange her into the bedding as he slipped out. She made a small sound of protest when his warmth disappeared and reached out blindly, her hand finding nothing, closing on the empty sheet instead.

Snatching a pillow, he tucked it into the space his body had left.

He stared down at her sleeping form. She resembled a sketch a man might invent if he were trying to describe the perfect moment of the woman he loved. Hair loose across the pillow. Her lips slightly parted. Well-loved. Theirs. He couldn’t resist reaching down and brushing a strand of hair from her face, the back of his finger tracing her cheek before he drew back.

Goodbye, love.