39. Jetmir
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
JETMIR
Icould see a splash of emotions—all the ones I was starving for—in Anya’s eyes.
They flickered across her face in rapid succession—longing, fear, lust, need… maybe even love. Hope hit me so hard it nearly brought me to my knees.
Her hand trembled as it reached toward me.
I closed the distance in three long strides, gently catching her wrist before she could second-guess herself. With reverence, I pressed her palm against my chest, right over the frantic beat of my heart.
“Please, my angel.” My voice cracked. “I want to make our marriage work.” My lungs burned as I struggled to steady my breathing.
“I know what I’ve done.” I swallowed hard.
“I know I’ve made many mistakes. I know how much pain I’ve caused you.
” My fingers tightened around hers, not to inflict pain, but to anchor myself.
“Please… just give me one chance. One chance to be the husband I should’ve been from the beginning. ”
A broken sob escaped her.
“How?” she whispered, tears spilling freely. “How could my parents ever forgive you? How are we supposed to fix what happened to my brother?”
Each word landed like a knife because she was right. The road to forgiveness—if that was even in the cards—would be bumpy.
The urge to pull her into my arms and shield her from every one of my mistakes consumed me.
“I know,” I murmured. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” I brushed a tear from her cheek with the pad of my thumb. “But give me a chance to earn it.”
She searched my face as if trying to find the lie she’d missed before.
“Give us a chance,” I added. “I swear to you, I’ll fix everything I possibly can. I’ll spend the rest of my life making this right. I don’t care what it costs me.”
Those impossibly blue eyes held mine. They looked like the ocean before a storm: beautiful, endless, and filled with turmoil.
Seconds stretched into an eternity.
Then her lips parted. “Okay.”
The word was barely audible. Barely more than a breath. But to my ears, it was louder than thunder.
My chest nearly caved in with relief.
Before she could change her mind, I swept her into my arms.
She let out a small gasp as I carried her bridal-style through the house and all the way to my bedroom. Our rooms had shared a wall—and a door—since the day we’d arrived on the island, but she’d never crossed that threshold.
Until now.
I laid her gently on the bed. The mattress dipped beneath her weight and I felt the subtle tremor running through her limbs.
“Are you sure this is smart?” she asked softly.
I smiled despite everything. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
A tiny, nervous laugh escaped her before it faded just as quickly.
“My dad will come for me.”
I met her gaze without hesitation. “Let him.”
Her brows knitted together.
“This is going to end badly, Jetmir.” Her voice wavered. “I couldn’t take it if anyone else was hurt because of us.”
“They won’t be.”
The promise left my mouth without a second’s hesitation. I took her hand once more and pressed it firmly against my heart. The steady rhythm thundered beneath her palm.
“I would die before I hurt anyone you love ever again.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “I understand now what your family means to you. And because they matter to you… they matter to me.”
Silence settled around us.
Tentatively, she lifted her free hand. Her fingertips brushed across my jaw before tracing the curve of my cheek. Her touch was featherlight and I closed my eyes, leaning into it.
It felt like the fragile beginning of forgiveness. Enough to let me breathe again.
When I opened my eyes, she was still watching me.
“Fine, Thorne.” The corners of her mouth lifted into the faintest smile. I fucking loved that nobody else called me by my middle name. “We’ll give this a try.”
Her expression hardened just enough to remind me that this trust was still fragile.
“But remember…” She held my gaze captive. “No more second chances. If you hurt my family again, I’ll walk away for good.”
“I know.” I kissed the inside of her wrist, right above her pulse. “I won’t hurt them, but know this, my angel. I’ll always follow.”
And I would keep choosing her until my last breath.