Chapter 11

The battle he’d choose to fight would be the one to protect Justin. No unhappy endings for those stories. Authority defied, thanks. No pain allowed.

He swore that to himself on the spot. And an echo of that old shout-and-start-a-riot energy scampered down his back.

He said, “If it’s going to bother you, I’ll make her take it off.”

“No, keep it.” Justin’s chin lifted: determination on the side of a cliff. “You’re a temptation for a lot of things—you’re an empath, a rock star, someone full of desires—and you’re with me, so you’re not exactly unnoticeable. Magically speaking, I mean. I can live with some extra thorns, until—until it gets better. Until I get better.”

Because I will, he did not say. Because I have to, said his eyes. Don’t I have to? Sometime? Please?

Kris pushed down tears, admiration, apprehension like salt and sugar. Calm, he reminded himself. Gentleness. No pressure. “Would it help if I wore gloves?”