"I'd rather die." Damien cupped her face in both hands and held her. "Sweetie. I'd die. I'm not going to be with her. If I do, you will never see me again. It will be the last breath I draw."
Luna's throat made a small, unsteady sound. "Don't say that," she whispered, the command laced with fear. Her hands curled against his wrists.
"I swear on Magnus." Damien's fingers tightened, then softened; he lifted her chin so their eyes locked. "I almost gave in. I almost did." He told her about the instant—how the bond pulled. "Talon came in at just the right moment," he breathed, as if the werewolf's interruption had been nothing short of divine intervention. "But even then, I knew—if I tipped over the edge, there was no way I would be able to face you." His eyes were dark with shame.
"I love you, you idiot," she sobbed.
