“I was wrong. Selfish, and foolish, and so wrong.” His jaw clenches, nostrils flaring as he takes in a steadying breath. “I had thought you were a gift for me, when really, you were a wound. An arrow to the heart, straight from Astarte’s bow. Some would call that a gift, but they are the ones who haven’t been wounded. The ones who haven’t felt the madness that Astarte’s poisoned arrows bring.”
He gives a dry, mirthless laugh, then leans forward, his eyes boring into mine, as if he is trying to see into the depths of my soul. “I was so absorbed in my own pride that I didn’t see it. I didn’t realize that you had marked every drop of my blood as your own – not until I almost lost you. Until my own greed almost got you killed.”
[Kit]”