"Do you want reassuring?" His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "Or do you want real?"
"Real," I admitted.
"Then real is—I've never felt this before. Never wanted to protect someone the way I want to protect you. Never wanted to give someone everything, not just safety but happiness." His voice dropped lower. "Never wanted to learn someone the way I want to learn you. Every sound, every response, every way to make you fall apart and put you back together."
Heat bloomed in my chest despite my physical exhaustion. "That could take a while."
"Good," he said simply. "I've got time."
A soft thump at the foot of the bed interrupted whatever I might have said. Zmeya had arrived, dragging her shark bed in her teeth, apparently having decided the bed was now her preferred sleeping spot. She dropped the shark, meowed imperiously, then jumped up onto the mattress.
"We have an audience," I said.
"She'll have to get used to it," Kostya replied, but his hand was gentle as he stroked the kitten's head. "This is going to be a regular occurrence."
The promise in that made something settle in my chest. Regular. Routine. A future tense that extended beyond crisis and survival.
Malysh appeared a moment later, more cautious, carrying his gray cave bed with obvious difficulty. Kostya reached down, helped him up, settling both beds at the foot of our bed. The kittens curled into their respective hideaways, purring loud enough to create a white noise that was oddly soothing.
"They're never sleeping in their own room, are they?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Probably not," he admitted, pulling the blanket over both of us, tucking it around my shoulders with surprising care. "They're ours. Ours stay close."
I curled into his chest, my body finally fully relaxing. Every muscle loose, every anxiety quiet, that constant spinning in my head finally, blissfully still. His arms tightened around me, one hand playing with my hair, the other tracing random patterns on my back.
"Sleep, kitten," he murmured. "I've got you."
And he did. For the first time in six months—maybe longer—I felt completely, perfectly safe. Not just physically safe from the people hunting me, but emotionally safe. Safe to be vulnerable. Safe to need things. Safe to love and be loved without constantly calculating the probability of loss.
I drifted off to the sound of his breathing, the kittens' purring, and the steady beat of his heart under my ear—the soundtrack to my new life, my real life, the one that started the moment I'd said yes to trusting him completely.
Chapter 14
Konstantin
ThefirstthingInoticed was the weight of Maya sprawled across my chest, her breath warm against my skin, and the absolute certainty that I never wanted to move again.
She'd shifted in the night, thrown one leg over mine, her arm across my ribs like she was claiming territory. Her dark hair fanned across my chest, tangled from my hands, from everything we'd done. The morning light caught it, turned some strands almost bronze. I could see the marks I'd left on her—a bite mark on her shoulder, purple-red against her pale skin, bruises on her hip where I'd gripped too hard when I was buried inside her.
I felt raw, possessive satisfaction that she wore my marks. That anyone who saw them would know she belonged to someone. To me.
Mine.
The word sat heavy in my chest, next to those other words I'd said last night. Words I'd never said to anyone. Not to thefew women who'd passed through my bed over the years. Not to family. Barely even thought them to myself.
I love you.
The words had escaped without permission, pulled from somewhere deep I didn't know existed. Decades of violence, of being the monster, the enforcer, the one who did terrible things so others could sleep—and this tiny, broken, brilliant woman had cracked me open like an egg.
I'd meant them. That was the part that should have terrified me. Love was weakness in my world. Love got people killed. Love was leverage your enemies could use, a knife they could twist. I'd watched what love had done to my brother Nikolai—the panic when Sophie was taken, the way he'd been ready to burn down the entire city to get her back.
But lying there with Maya's weight on me, feeling each of her exhales against my skin, I understood. Some things were worth the risk. Some people were worth burning down cities for.
She'd said it back. Whispered it against my chest like a secret. It had felt wonderful.
The monster that lived in my chest—the thing that craved blood and breaking bones—was quiet. Satisfied by her skin against mine. By the knowledge that she was here, safe, mine. The beast had found something better than blood to feed on.
Maya stirred, made that small sound she made when fighting toward consciousness. Her fingers flexed against my ribs, and I tightened my arms around her automatically. Not ready for this to end. Not ready for the world to intrude on this perfect moment where we were just two people who'd found each other despite the odds.
