Page 201 of Arrow

“Which part?” I challenged, though I knew exactly what he wanted to hear.

“The part where you can’t breathe without me,” he growled, one hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck. “The part where you’re finally admitting what I’ve known all along.”

I tilted my chin up defiantly. “Why? So you can use it against me?”

“No,” he said, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “So I can give you what you need.”

“And what’s that?”

His eyes locked with mine, intensity radiating from him in waves. “Everything.”

The word hung between us, simple yet devastating in its implications. Everything. Not just the physical release we’d found in each other’s bodies, not just the strategic alliance our marriage represented, but something more fundamental. Something that terrified me more than any threat my father had ever made.

“You can’t give me everything,” I whispered, my hands sliding up his chest to feel his heartbeat beneath my palm. “No one can.”

“Watch me,” he challenged, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my skin prickle with anticipation. “Starting tomorrow, there will be no Virellis, no Romanovs. Just us against everyone else.”

I laughed. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple,” he insisted, his fingers threading through my hair, cradling the back of my head. “Choose me. Choose us. The rest is just noise.”

The raw conviction in his voice made something inside me crack open—something I’d kept locked away for so long I’d forgotten it was there. Hope. Not for escape or survival, but for something I’d never dared want: belonging.

“And if I do?” I asked, my voice barely audible. “If I choose you?”

His other hand slid to my throat, thumb pressing gently against my pulse point. Not threatening, just feeling the rhythm of my blood beneath my skin. “Then we burn it all down.”

His declaration was like a match striking tinder inside me. I surged forward, capturing his mouth with mine. This kiss was different from our others—not just desire and domination, but something deeper, more dangerous. His hands tangled in my hair as he backed me against the bar, lifting me onto it with effortless strength. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, needing to feel his heart hammering against mine.

“I’ve never had a choice before,” I whispered against his mouth. “My entire life has been decided by others—my father, your family, this war. But this...” I cupped his face in my hands, studying the darkness in his eyes that matched my own. “This is my choice.”

Arrow’s grip tightened, his eyes blazing with something fierce and possessive. “Say it again.”

“I choose you, Arrow Romanov,” I said, the words feeling like both surrender and victory. “I choose us.”

His mouth crashed against mine with renewed hunger, devouring my confession like a man starved. His hands were everywhere—in my hair, at my waist, sliding up my thighs beneath my dress. I clutched at his shoulders, his back, his hair, needing him closer, needing to erase any space between us.

“Take me to bed,” I commanded against his lips. “I want one last night before I’m your wife.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his expression almost reverent in its intensity. “You’ve been mine since the moment I claimed you,” he growled, lifting me off the bar in one fluid motion. My legs wrapped around his waist as he carried me toward the bedroom, his mouth never leaving mine.

The bedroom was bathed in moonlight, silver beams cutting through the darkness to illuminate the massive bed where we’d fought and fucked and found something neither of us had been looking for. Arrow laid me down with unexpected gentleness, his body following mine onto the mattress. He hovered above me, his eyes tracing every feature of my face as if committing it to memory.

“Last chance to run,” he murmured, his thumb brushing across my lower lip. “After tomorrow, there’s no going back.”

I reached up to touch his face, feeling the slight stubble beneath my fingertips. “I’m not running anymore.”

His smile was slow and dangerous, a predator who’d finally cornered his prey only to find she’d been hunting him all along. He lowered his head to kiss me, this time with aching slowness, as if we had all the time in the world. His hands slid down my sides, finding the zipper of my dress and drawing it down with torturous precision.

I arched beneath him, impatient for his touch, but he held back, stripping me with methodical care until I lay naked beneath him. The moonlight painted my skin silver, highlighting the marks he’d left on me over the past weeks—bruises in various stages of healing, the brand on my hip that marked me as his. Arrow’s eyes darkened as they roamed over me, drinking in the sight of my body laid bare for him.

“My masterpiece,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the brand on my hip with reverent touches. “Even more beautiful in the moonlight.”

I reached up to loosen his tie, my fingers working at the knot with less patience than he’d shown. “You’re wearing too many clothes,” I complained, pulling at the expensive fabric.

His laugh was low and dark as he caught my wrists, pinning them above my head with one hand. “Always so demanding,” he said, his free hand trailing down my throat, between my breasts, over my stomach in a torturously slow path. “Even the night before you become my wife.”

“Especially then,” I replied, arching into his touch. “Tomorrow everyone gets a show—the dress, the vows, the perfect couple uniting warring families. Tonight is just for us.”