“You can’t hurt me, Mordred. And you can’t lie to me.” Summer leans back again, to look him in the eyes. Seriously, she says, “I promise. No matter how tightly, you can’t hurt me.” A shy, teasing smile quirks one corner of her mouth. “If you’re so worried, take off your armour.”
Unintentionally Mordred drew himself back into the little cocoon he always found himself in, something that had become some sort of a second home to him. “You don’t know that.”
“You haven’t given me a chance.” It hurt. He pulled away inside, and it hurt. She searched his face, trying to find why. “You … aren’t going to give me a chance. Are you.”