“Once upon a time, there was a little girl who would grow up to rule the stars,” he says. “She had her mother’s fire and her father’s heart, and no one dared cross her—not even stars.”
The baby gurgles, entranced.
I smile. Even now, even after everything, Miko surprises me.
A year ago, I didn’t know if I could trust him. A year ago, I still woke from nightmares gasping for air, certain Pyotr would rise from the dead and drag me back into hell.
A year ago, I didn’t believe I would ever feel safe again. Or that such a thing existed.
Now I know what peace tastes like.
It’s Miko’s arms around me at night. It’s the laughter he coaxes from our daughter as he bounces her on his knee.
It’s the flowers he brings home every Thursday—compliments of our new sister-in-law. It’s the silence in my chest where fear used to live.
Miko carries the Bratva like he was born to it.
I suppose it always was his birthright, but he’s nothing like the tyrants who came before. He’s diplomatic, measured, ruthless when he has to be—but never cruel. Never without reason.
He listens. He cares.
He’s turned our world into one that I feel safe to raise our daughter in. And when the day comes when she’s old enough to marry, I know Miko will be a fierce protector of her heart.
He won’t sell her off to the highest bidder.
If anything, I think our sweet Alana might have a hard time finding a man brave enough to date her.
Because I have no doubt Miko’s talk about respecting his daughter will scare off all but the most genuine and daring.
He kisses the crown of our baby’s head like she’s made of glass.
Then he lays her gently in the cradle and pulls the blankets around her. One last stroke of her downy hair before he turns off the lamp.
“She’s asleep,” he says, offering me a hand to help me out of my chair.
Together, we tiptoe from the room, stealing one last peek at our sleeping angel before softly closing the door. In the hallway, I turn to him, leaning against him as I press my cheek to his chest.
His heart beats strong beneath my ear.
“Miko?” I whisper.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. For… for giving our daughter such a different life to grow up in.”
He pulls me closer. “She’s ours. That means she gets the best this world has to offer.”
I lift my face to his, tracing the lines of his jaw. “You’re better than anything I could have possibly imagined.”
His smile fades into something softer, more vulnerable. “I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it’s real—for as long as you’ll let me.”
“You already have,” I promise, rising onto my toes to wrap my arms around his neck.
Strong arms wrap around my ribcage as he holds me close, and our lips meet with that familiar jolt of warmth that makes me gasp every time.
We kiss, slow and sweet, the lingering touch lighting a spark deep in my belly.
When we part, his hand comes to rest against the small of my back, and we retreat silently to our bedroom.
