Page 43 of Till Death Saves Me

"Are you hurt?" he demands, his voice rough with concern.

I shake my head, leaning into his touch. "You came," I whisper, awe coloring my words.

A ghost of a smile touches his lips. "I told you, malyshka," he says in a voice so rough with emotion I can barely believe it's his. "I will make sure you are always safe."

In this moment, surrounded by the aftermath of his lethal skill, I've never felt safer. Or more grateful to be Ivan Kozlov's wife.

I collapse into Ivan's arms, my whole body trembling as the adrenaline fades. His strong embrace anchors me, and I breathe in his familiar scent - sandalwood mixed with gunpowder. Tears I didn't know I was holding back start to fall.

"Shh, you're safe now," Ivan murmurs, his lips brushing my hair.

He pulls back slightly, his intense gaze roaming over me. I watch his jaw clench tighter with each mark he finds - a cut on my cheek, tender spots blooming on my arms. His fingers ghost over each injury, feather-light and achingly gentle.

God, he's going to be pissed later when he sees what they did to my ribs. But I'll wait to tell him. I'm too busy drinking in the sight of him.

It's only then that I notice the blood splattered across his shirt, hands, and face. Some of it is dried, practically caked on, while some of it is new. My heart lurches.

"Ivan, you're covered in blood," I gasp, my hands fluttering uselessly over his chest.

He barks out a harsh laugh, the sound at odds with the tenderness in his eyes. "I wasn't the one kidnapped, Virginia."

"No, but you were fighting," I insist, my voice small and worried.

Ivan's expression softens. "None of it's mine," he assures me, his thumb stroking my cheek. "I'm fine."

Relief floods through me, so intense it makes me dizzy. I sag against him, overwhelmed by how much I care about this man I once thought I hated.

Ivan stiffens slightly. "I... didn't expect you to care," he mutters, so soft that I don't think he meant to say it out loud.

My heart aches at his words. How long has it been since someone truly cared for him? I know Anya does, but it's clear he keeps himself really closed off.

I reach up, cupping his face in my hands. His stubble scratches my palms as I guide his lips to mine. The kiss is soft, a stark contrast to the violence surrounding us.

When I pull away, I whisper against his mouth, "Better?"

Ivan's eyes are molten as they meet mine. He nods once, his voice rough. "Better."

Anya walks up to us then, Dmitry on her heels. Ivan pulls her in for a side hug. "Are you alright?"

She nods, eyeing the blood all over him. "I'll be fine once I shower." She flicks her gaze over at Dmitry. "Think you can take me home?"

"Anya," I cut in. "Are you sure you don't want to come back with us?"

She shakes her head. "Nah. I'm alright." She shifts, betraying the slight nerves that I know must be running through her. "Though we might have to postpone any shopping trips."

I force a smile. "Text me when you get home."

She nods and Dmitry follows her as they walk away. Ivan watches them, and I can see he's trying to decipher her sister.

"I think she just needs some time alone," I tell him softly.

He sighs, tugging me closer. "I think so, too."

I cling to Ivan as we make our way to his car, my fingers curled tightly in the fabric of his shirt. My legs feel weak, and I'm not sure I could stand on my own even if I wanted to. But I don't want to. I want to stay right here, wrapped in the safety of his arms.

As he helps me into the passenger seat, I catch a glimpse of his face. The cold mask of the ruthless Bratva brigadier has slipped away, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. It makes my heart skip a beat.

Ivan slides into the driver's seat, and I immediately reach for his hand. He laces his fingers through mine without hesitation, and the simple gesture nearly undoes me.

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