“How so?”
I think I can hear a smile in his voice, so I glance up at his face. But the smile isn’t on his mouth, it’s in his eyes.
I hold his gaze. “Humans aren’t made for either.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I appreciate that he’s thinking about my answer. Or at least he’s acting like he is.
Then he nods once as he says, “Self-preservation is a good trait to have.”
“It’s gotten me this far.” I try to joke, but the pain in the truth of it scratches against my throat.
I’ve lived too many days so focused on self-preservation that it’s bored into my marrow. That I don’t know any other way to live.
I look away from Dom.
For so long, it’s been just me looking out for me.
Most days, it still feels like that.
Sure, King has a security guy drive me around. But I think that’s just to make him feel better. So he can sleep next to Savannah at night and confidently tell her he’s keeping me safe.
Savannah, my half brother’s wife, is the only Vass I don’t share blood with, but I think she might be the only one who really loves me. The only family I have that feels true affection toward me, not just obligation.
But her first loyalty will always be to King. And that’s why I still feel so alone.
Fingers that I forgot were wrapped around mine shift. I think he’s letting go when his palm leaves the back of my hand, but instead, Dom slides his hand under mine so we’re palm to palm.
I have to swallow.
Savannah’s casual hugs are the only real human touch I get anymore.
And oh my fucking god, I need to stop feeling so damn sorry for myself.
“Sorry,” I whisper, hoping like crazy he thinks I’m just upset over flying and not picking up on the fact that we went from harmless flirting to me flaying my insides open.
“Never apologize.” His stern tone has me looking back up.
I take in his face, take in his seriousness. “Never?”
“Never,” he repeats.
“You don’t ever apologize?”
“Not ever.”
I roll my lips together, considering this. “Why not?”
“Because I mean everything I do.”
“Everything?” I don’t know why I ask. There’s nothing about Dominic that doesn’t scream confidence.
“Yeah, Valentine. And when you do things with purpose, you have nothing to apologize for.”
The plane straightens out on the runway, then picks up speed.
I let the velocity press my head against the back of the seat, my neck still turned to look at Dom. “Then I’m not sorry.”
I don’t even remember what I was apologizing for anymore, but I know it’s the right response when Dom nods his head once before mirroring my position. “Good.”
The plane tips up, and we leave the ground.
My fingers tighten around Dom’s.
“Sor—” I start when I notice that I’m squeezing his hand, but I stop myself.
And Dom’s expression is pure approval.
I loosen my grip but don’t let go as I tell him, “I usually fly alone.”
“Usually?” he asks.
I let out a little laugh when I think about it. “I always fly alone. I’m not used to having someone to…”—comfort—“distract me.”
“I’m happy to be your distraction.”
His tone is back to teasing, and I vow to myself that I’ll stay there with him.
“How very generous of you.”
He huffs out a little laugh. “So, why do you always fly alone? Work?”
“Yeah. I design websites. And you’d be surprised how many people want you to come to them in person to show them how stuff works.” I shake my head. “Ninety percent of the time, I could do this by sharing my screen from my living room. But everyone learns differently, I guess.”
“Living room,” he repeats. “Do you work for a company or yourself?”
“A company. It’s actually based in Chicago.” Dom makes an interested hum at the mention of his city, and I don’t act weird over the fact that we’re still holding hands. Not at all. “I did freelance for myself for a while, but I didn’t love it. I mean, I enjoy my work, but I do it for the paycheck, ya know? It’s not like my life’s passion. And running your own business is a lot of freaking work.”
Dom nods like he understands, and I should’ve expected his next question, but it still catches me off guard. “What is your passion?”