With Penelope so close and her hand over his, a wild fear fluttered to life in Zagan's chest. He had no idea what to do now. For perhaps the first time, every plan he had conceived had crumbled before his feet and he could not see a way forward through this—not in the next moment, not in the next day, and not beyond that.
He was afraid to feel this, whatever this was, and he was afraid to lose it. There was never a time when he had to fear like this. He was always the most powerful creature in any situation. He was always in control. He never had anything to lose, because he couldn't even lose his own existence in any kind of death. But here he was with something living in front of him—something fragile and precious and breakable. What if something happened to her? What if he was the one responsible for it?
"You do look afraid," she said, her fingers playing over his.
"I wasn't expecting this," he told her. "I wasn't expecting you. I want you in a way that I can't understand."
