Unfaded Glory by Sara Arden Page A

your fault, or I’m going to get hurt because of something you did or didn’t do, you’re intimating I can’t make my own choices and I’m not responsible for them. I am. I’m responsible for a
nation.
” She sounded much more confident than she felt.
    â€œYou don’t understand. I can’t do this. I can’t.”
    â€œI’m not letting you off here. You talked about your purpose in the world and how you justify it? Walking away from me and this mission would be failure.”
    He reared forward so his face was inches from hers. “Shut your mouth about things you don’t understand, Princess.”
    The growl was back.
    A prickle of awareness skittered down her back. They were being watched. She looked over her shoulder to see a pack of paparazzi watching from the gate area as they headed toward the plane. She hadn’t expected to have to face them so soon, but Mr. Renner must have wanted them to get ahead of the buzz before her brother could influence the media.
    Rather than be intimidated by his anger, she leaned into him. “We’re on.” She smashed her lips into his. His fingers dug harshly into her waist, but she didn’t care.
    She couldn’t. It didn’t matter what this cost either of them. It was the only way.
    Instead, she focused on what it felt like to kiss him. She didn’t know his anger could have a taste, but it did. It was like salt, but still it was good. Still lit a fire only he could extinguish.
    Damara broke the kiss and waved up at the crowd before reboarding the plane behind him.
    If she’d thought their heated kiss would have soothed him, it had only cranked him higher.
    â€œDon’t ever do that again,” he snarled.
    â€œThen do your job,” she volleyed, unaffected by his warning.
    â€œIs that what you want? You want to be just a job to me? What happened to your earlier wish?”
    His barb struck home. “Wish in one hand, Hawkins, and goat crap in the other.”
    â€œYou’re going to be sorry for this, Damara. Mark my words.”
    She narrowed her eyes. She knew in her bones that Byron wasn’t threatening her. So she called him on it. “You’d never hurt me,” Damara whispered, drawing the sting out of their interaction.
    He looked at her, eyes haunted. “Oh, but I will. I won’t mean to, but I will.”
    â€œByron.” His name was a plea, and she reached out to cup his face, the scruff of his unshaven chin rough on her hands. “You won’t.” She shook her head. “I won’t let you.”
    â€œI don’t want your pity.”
    â€œOf course you don’t. Who would? Pity is a form of snobbery and condescension. I won’t say I understand
your
pain. I don’t know what you’ve been through because you won’t tell me. But I will say I understand pain itself. Loss. Guilt. Those aren’t unique to you. You’re not alone in your suffering.”
    â€œI should be,” he answered darkly.
    â€œBut you’re not. We’re in this together, Byron, whether we want to be or not.”
    â€œWhen this blows up in your face, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    Damara supposed it was wrong on some level that all she wanted to do now was kiss him again. As if that could siphon off his pain and replace it with only good things. She knew she was deluding herself. She couldn’t fix whatever was broken in him, but she wanted to shelter him until he could mend himself.
    She slid over into the seat next to him, offering him comfort. Damara made him look at her, her fingers on his chin the same as he’d done to her.
    â€œI won’t. I promise.” She nodded to emphasize her point.
    â€œDon’t depend on me.” He said it like a warning even as his arm slipped around her shoulders.
    â€œI won’t. I’ll depend on myself.” She already did depend on him. She needed his presence. She