Page 141 of A House of Gold
Dorian: "Be strong. You'll need it." There's genuine concern in his voice.
And Caspian, barely audible from the shadows: "Good luck. You'll need more than strength for what's coming."
Then they're gone, the cathedral empty except for Croesus and me.
I let out a long deep breath I sure as shit knew I was holding.
"That went well," I say weakly.
Croesus pulls me against him, his heart racing under my cheek. Through the binding, I feel everything he's been holding back, fury, fear, possessiveness so intense it's almost painful.
"They're already planning," he says into my hair. "Already anticipating their turns with you."
"I know."
"I want to kill them. All of them. For looking at you like that. For talking about you like you're something they're entitled to."
"The contracts say they are entitled."
"Fuck the contracts." His arms tighten. "You're mine. Mine. And the thought of Seraph putting his hands on you, of Lysander..." He can't finish the sentence.
"Ten months," I remind him gently. "We have ten months before that happens. Let's focus on surviving the next ten days first."
He laughs, bitter and broken. "Then I have to watch you walk away. Watch you become someone else's. Watch each of them claim you, one after another, until seven years have passed and you're?—"
"Changed," I finish. "I'll be changed. We both know that."
"I don't want you changed." He pulls back, frames my face with his hands. "I want you exactly as you are. Mine. Safe. Alive."
"You can't have all three," I say quietly. "You can't keep me and keep me safe and keep me unchanged. Not with six more houses waiting."
Through the binding, I feel his agony. Because he knows I'm right.
"I hate this," he whispers.
"I know." I touch his face, feel the tension in his jaw. "Me too."
"But you'll do it anyway."
"I don't have a choice."
"There's always a choice."
"No." I step back. "There isn't. Not for me. Not with Luna's safety on the line.”
His gold eyes are bright with unshed emotion. "And I have to watch."
"Yes."
"I won't survive it."
"You will. Because you're three thousand years old and you've survived worse."
"No." His voice is certain. "I haven't. Losing you will be worse than anything Heaven ever did to me."
The confession hangs between us.
"Then don't lose me," I whisper. "Hold on. Even when I'm in other houses. Even when other angels are claiming their time. Hold on. Because I'll come back. Eventually."
