“I can’t promise you safety. I can’t promise we grow old together.”
“I made that promise once.” His jaw works. He looks past me, to the dark glass and the mountains beyond it. “To a man it was my job to keep breathing. I buried him with it still in my mouth. After that, I stopped promising anyone anything. I started walking into rooms hoping one of them would be the last.” He drags his gaze back to me. “That’s the man you’re asking to keep.”
“I don’t need promises. I need you.” I rise on my tiptoes. I brush my lips along his jaw. “I’m not your protection detail anymore. I’m your partner. If you’ll have me.”
A low, guttural groan of surrender vibrates deep in his throat.
He wraps his good arm around my waist and hauls me in, crushing me to him. He buries his face in my neck, inhaling sharply.
“I have you.” His voice drops to gravel against my skin. “God help me, I have you.”
He kisses me. Not like the shower, not that frantic desperation. This is different.
Slow. Deep. Tender. The sealing of a covenant. His lips move over mine with a reverence that makes my knees weak. He tastes of coffee, mint, and devotion.
He pulls back, resting his forehead against mine.
“I love you.” He breathes the words into the scant space between us, like a confession.
“I love you more.” I press a kiss to his jaw. And it’s true.
We stand there for a long time, holding each other in the cold. The wind howls around the radar dish above us, but the cold never sinks in. He anchors me.
I look out at the horizon, toward a thin line of gold cracking through the darkness. The sun rises over the peaks, turning the snow to fire.
Ex Tenebris Lux.
From darkness, light.
“We have work to do.” Boyd follows my gaze.
“Yes.” I rest my head on his chest. “We do.”
“Cipher’s going to need help sorting that data. He speaks code, but he doesn’t speak medicine. He needs someone translating the manifests.”
“I can do that.”
“And Hutch will want to debrief you. Fully.”
“I’m ready.”
Boyd kisses my forehead. He gathers the blanket up from the deck and folds it around us both, drawing me into the cocoon.
“Then let’s go inside.” He traces my cheekbone. “The wolves are waiting.”
We turn back toward the heavy steel door.
I don’t look back at the mountains. I don’t look back at the life I leave behind.
I walk through the door with him, into the warmth, into the war room, and into the fight.
20
The Claiming
BOYD
The coffee smells like heaven.
