Page 203 of Arrow

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice gentle in the darkness.

“I’m thinking that I never expected this,” I finally whispered, my fingers tracing the scar that ran along his ribs. “Any of it.”

His hand found my hair, stroking it gently in a gesture so tender it made my chest ache. “Expected what?”

“To feel . . .” I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. Feelings had always been dangerous in my world—weaknesses to be exploited, vulnerabilities to be hidden. “To feel like I belong somewhere. To someone.”

Arrow’s arms tightened around me, pulling me closer against his chest. I could feel his heartbeat quickening beneath my cheek.

“You’ve always belonged with me,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “From the moment I saw you at that gala three years ago, in that red dress, looking at everyone like they were beneath you.”

I lifted my head, surprised. “You remember that night?”

“I remember everything about you,” he admitted, his fingers tracing my spine. “The way you laughed with your head thrown back, completely unaware that every man in that room was staring. The way you looked at your father when he introduced you to potential suitors—like you were calculating how quickly you could make them disappear.”

I smiled against his chest, remembering that night. I’d worn a red dress that had scandalized my father’s more conservative associates, my hair loose around my shoulders instead of in the demure updo he’d requested. It had been an act of rebellion, one of many small defiances that had defined our relationship.

“I was calculating exactly that,” I confessed. “I hated those parties. All those men looking at me like I was a prize to be won, a way to get closer to my father.”

“I looked at you and saw something different,” Arrow murmured, his fingers still tracing patterns on my skin. “A queen without a crown. Someone who belonged on a throne of her own, not standing in her father’s shadow.”

His words resonated in places I’d kept locked away, dark corners where I hid the parts of myself too dangerous to acknowledge. I’d spent years building walls, protecting myself from a world that had never shown me anything but cruelty. And somehow, this man, my enemy, had found the cracks.

“I almost killed you that night.”

“I know. My dick was so hard.”

I laughed against his lips. “Men like you always get hard for violence.”

His hand slid to my throat, not squeezing, just resting there. “Only when it comes from you.” His thumb traced my pulse point, feeling it jump beneath his touch. “No one’s ever challenged me the way you do.”

I was falling into his eyes, drowning willingly in whatever this was between us. And to me, it felt dangerously close to belonging.

The sound of knocking startled me. Arrow’s reaction was identical, his muscles coiling, ready to spring into action.

“Who the fuck is knocking on the door at this hour?” I whispered, reaching for a sheet to cover myself.

Arrow slid from the bed in one fluid motion, pulling on his pants without bothering with underwear.

“Stay here,” he commanded, his voice returning to that controlled tone I recognized—the crime lord replacing the lover in an instant.

I ignored him, of course, wrapping a sheet around myself and following a few steps behind. Through the bedroom door, I heard laughter. Arrow’s shoulders relaxed, and Atlas, Orion, and Luna pushed their way inside.

“What are you guys doing here?” Arrow asked as our unexpected guests piled into the penthouse.

I clutched the sheet tighter around me. Luna’s eyes met mine with an apologetic smile, while Atlas and Orion looked thoroughly amused by the situation.

“Bad timing?” Atlas asked, though he didn’t look remotely sorry.

“Ten minutes ago, it would have been,” I laughed, adjusting the sheet around my body.

“But lucky for you, you missed the grand finale,” Arrow joked.

Luna stepped forward, her pregnant belly leading the way. “I tried to talk them out of it,” she said, rolling her eyes at her husband and Orion. “But they insisted this was tradition.”

“What tradition?” I asked, glancing at Arrow, who looked equally confused.

Atlas grinned, producing a bottle of what looked like extremely expensive vodka from behind his back. “The night before a Romanov wedding, the groom isn’t supposed to be alone with his bride. Bad luck.”