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elementof_riskHe watches her when she sleeps, almost obsessively. He turns down jobs he could do easily, jobs he should take, because they might take him from her side for too long, and if he closes his eyes, if he looks away, if he turns for just a moment...she could be gone.
When the terror started, he doesn't know. After Lauren, he shut down. He couldn't save her. If anything, it was his faul...he stops those words before they fully form. Julian Sark does not accept responsibility for such things. They played him, once. Never again. The cost was too high, and he walked away from the game, unfamiliar emotion twisting inside of him, making him sick when he thought about it.
Only when he came back, driven by restlessness and need, there she was, with her laugh and her eyes and her ridiculous claims about keeping goldfish alive. He laughed. He lived. And, even knowing who she was -- he loved.
And he almost lost again.
So, he watches. He stays vigilant, even in the quiet bustle of a Saturday farmer's market in a tiny New England town. His fingers are never far from his gun, his other hand ready to pull her close or push her down. He's aware of anyone who might be following them, waiting, on edge and on nerve in ways that are new and unsettling in so many ways.
He almost lost her. He can't lose her. He can't go through that again, won't. He doesn't know how to ensure it, yet, but he'll figure it out, and God help anyone who tries to come in between him and his happily ever after.
When the terror started, he doesn't know. After Lauren, he shut down. He couldn't save her. If anything, it was his faul...he stops those words before they fully form. Julian Sark does not accept responsibility for such things. They played him, once. Never again. The cost was too high, and he walked away from the game, unfamiliar emotion twisting inside of him, making him sick when he thought about it.
Only when he came back, driven by restlessness and need, there she was, with her laugh and her eyes and her ridiculous claims about keeping goldfish alive. He laughed. He lived. And, even knowing who she was -- he loved.
And he almost lost again.
So, he watches. He stays vigilant, even in the quiet bustle of a Saturday farmer's market in a tiny New England town. His fingers are never far from his gun, his other hand ready to pull her close or push her down. He's aware of anyone who might be following them, waiting, on edge and on nerve in ways that are new and unsettling in so many ways.
He almost lost her. He can't lose her. He can't go through that again, won't. He doesn't know how to ensure it, yet, but he'll figure it out, and God help anyone who tries to come in between him and his happily ever after.
