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“We should sleep,” I say

Langston nods “Coainst his chest

“I can’t I don’t want to hurt you” I don’t want to hurt ain like I did ere kids

I start to lie down on the ground next to him, when he reaches his hand out and yanks me to him

“You can’t hurt me, huntress Not any more than you already have” His words strikeSiren, just as he’s not sorry for hurting Waylon

“And you can’t hurt me anyht?”

He holds hter untilhe doesn’t push h I know he can’t, and won’t, protect me

“The same reason that you helped with my back”

“And what reason is that?”

“Sleep, Liesel”

He never answers, and I don’t ask any ainst a coet out of here alive

Light shines in ston’s bare chest;on his steel abs

I let ston’s face I can’t tell if he’s awake or still asleep His breathing is slow and steady, so I assume he’s still asleep

That ertips glide over his abs, feeling every ripple, every hard protrusion My hand skips over his shirt tied around his torso It’s not completely soaked with blood, so the wound at his backThen my hands stroke the thick muscle on his upper chest

I try not to focus on how good he feels beneath my hand He’s just a man who has a lot of muscle that encases a steel heart—a heart that only softens for his wife and kids It will never soften for me