Chapter 40
Aurora
I nestle my head on Alexei’s chest, counting his heartbeats as they slow. My own pulse finally settles into a normal rate.
Though I’m not sure “normal” is a concept that applies to anything about this situation.
The sweat-dampened sheets beneath us weave around our legs like vines. Alexei skims his hands up and down my spine in lazy circles, each pass leaving goosebumps in its wake. The silence between us is comfortable. Peaceful, even. Nothing like the tense, charged silences we’ve shared in the past.
I never expected this. Never expected him.
Since Roman announced our accelerated timeline, I’ve been bracing for the wedding night from hell. At best, I thought it would be awkward. At worst, a cold and mechanical transaction to seal our bargain. Instead…I don’t even have the words.
We shared more than just sex.
We made love.
Alexei’s fingers find their way into my hair and stroke my scalp.
The tenderness of the gesture strains my throat.
This is the man who threatened to kill me in an alley.
The man who abducted me, murdered a man in front of me, and forced me into marriage for his own purposes.
And yet, he’s touched me with more gentleness than anyone else ever has.
A shiver runs through me as the sweat cools on my skin.
Before I can reach for the tangled sheets to cover myself, Alexei sits up and scoops me into his arms again as if I weigh nothing at all.
I release a startled squeak and circle my arms around his neck for balance.
“What are you doing?” The question comes out breathy and uncertain.
He rises and carries me toward the door, both of us still buck naked. The gesture should feel absurd. We’re not in a movie or some romance novel where the hero sweeps the heroine off to his room. We’re two real, complicated people who—
“We’re not sleeping here.” He pushes through the doorway with his shoulder, still cradling me against his chest.
“We’re not?” I’m trying to process what’s happening as he walks us through the loft toward what I know is his room. His sanctuary. The place I’ve never been invited to enter.
“No.” His refusal brooks no argument. “You’re my wife now. We sleep together.”
The possessiveness in his tone sends a complicated tremor through me.
This claim of ownership should feel threatening.
It should prompt me to pull away and establish boundaries.
To remind him that a marriage certificate doesn’t grant him any real rights to me.
But I simply tighten my arms around his neck and press closer.
His bedroom door is ajar, as if he planned for this eventuality all along. Since I haven’t spent much time in here, I forgot how large the space is.
The massive windows offer the same dizzying view of the city that mine do, but from a slightly different angle, revealing different patterns of lights and different flows of traffic.
Once again, the enormous painting snags my attention. Before, I pegged his room as sterile. Now, as I absorb the white brick walls, gray furniture, and the vibrant beach at sunset above the headboard, a new word pops into my head.
Home.
He lowers me onto his bed—our bed?—with the same care he’s shown all night. The smooth, expensive sheets are cool against my heated skin. They smell like him too. That musky evergreen scent that I’ve come to recognize. The pillow, softer than the ones in the guest room, yield beneath my head.
He slides in beside me, pulling the covers over us before drawing my back to his chest. His arm snakes around my waist, and his breaths warm the nape of my neck. Our bodies fit together like puzzle pieces designed for each other. The ridiculous thought has me smiling into the darkness.
“What?” He’s so attuned to me that he catches my shift in mood even without seeing my face.
“Nothing.” I cuddle his arm to my chest. “Just…this. Us. All of it.”
Us.
There’s that word again. But this time, it feels real.
He tightens his embrace, hugging me closer. “Good nothing or bad nothing?”
I consider the question carefully while taking inventory of my emotions.
I should be plotting my escape. Hating every minute of this captivity disguised as marriage.
Instead, I feel safe. Not just physically protected from external threats, but emotionally secure in a way I haven’t felt in years. Maybe ever.
While the danger hasn’t disappeared, Alexei has somehow come to represent security rather than threat. The man who could hurt me the most has become the one I trust not to.
“Good nothing.” I cover the hand on my breast with mine. “Definitely good.”
He kisses the nape of my neck, his lips lingering against my skin. “Sleep, lyubimaya. Tomorrow will be long.”
His meeting with the Falcones.
My art show.
All the complex realities of our situation wait for us beyond this moment of peace. But for tonight, none of that matters. All that matters is his solid warmth cloaking me.
This indescribable feeling has my heart aching with possibility. With him, there’s trust where there should be fear. Comfort instead of pain. Connection where only emptiness should live.
I’m falling for him, and I can only hope the landing won’t destroy me.
I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Don’t know if this fragile bond between us can survive the harsh light of day in the violent world Alexei inhabits. But here in the dark, our connection feels real. Like it’s mine to keep.
My eyes grow heavy, sleep tugging at me despite my desire to stay awake and hold on to this moment a little longer. Behind me, Alexei’s breathing deepens. His body relaxes into slumber, and I let myself follow, drifting off in his arms.
I dream that together, all our broken pieces reassemble into one impenetrable whole.