Page 50 of Till Death Saves Me

I clench my fists, fighting the urge to punch that smug look off his face. "I don't have time for this shit."

"You've fallen for her," Lev says bluntly. "Haven't you?"

I let loose a growl, and I see the triumph in his face. He's not wrong. I have always been relatively calm and in control, especially for a Russian made man.

But then I married Virginia.

When I don't answer, he adds, "You're in love with your wife."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I open my mouth to deny it, but the lie dies on my lips. Fuck. He's right, and we both know it.

"That's none of your damn business," I mutter, shoving past him to get to my car door.

Lev doesn't push it, but his knowing smirk says it all. As I slide into the driver's seat, he leans down, meeting my eyes.

"Just be careful," he says, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "Love can be a dangerous thing in our world."

I slam the car door, cutting off whatever else he was going to say. As I peel out of the parking lot, his words echo in my head. Love. Is that what this is? This all-consuming need to protect her, to be with her?

Fuck. I'm in deep trouble.

By the time I pull into the driveway, my mind is still reeling from Lev's words. The scent of blood lingers on my skin, a stark reminder of the violence I've just unleashed. But as I step into the house, something else hits me - the warm aroma of home-cooked food.

Following the scent, I find myself in the kitchen doorway, frozen in place by the sight before me. Virginia stands at the stove, humming softly to herself as she stirs something in a pot. She's wearing one of my shirts, the hem barely skimming her thighs, and her hair is piled messily on top of her head.

My chest tightens, a surge of emotion threatening to overwhelm me. This simple, domestic scene - it's everything I never knew I wanted. Everything I never thought I could have.

Before I can stop myself, I'm crossing the kitchen in long strides. Virginia turns, her eyes widening in surprise, but before she can speak, I'm pulling her into my arms.

My lips crash onto hers, desperate and hungry. She melts against me, her arms winding around my neck as she kisses me back with equal fervor. I lift her easily, setting her on the counter and stepping between her legs.

As we break apart, both breathing heavily, I rest my forehead against hers. My hands span her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of my shirt. She fits perfectly in my arms, like she was made for me.

"Ivan," she whispers, her voice soft and questioning.

I pull back slightly, meeting her eyes. There's so much I want to say, so much I'm feeling that I can't put into words. How can I tell her that she's become my whole world? That the thought of losing her terrifies me more than anything ever has?

And do I want to? I'm fairly certain that she feels something for me — though it could only be a modicum of what I do for her. But what if she's just making the best of our situation?

Instead of saying anything of that, I brush my thumb across her cheek, marveling at the softness of her dark skin. "You cooked," I say, my voice rough with emotion.

She nods, a shy smile playing at her lips. "I thought... Well, I wanted to do something nice for you."

The simple gesture nearly breaks me. After everything she's been through, after all the pain and fear, she still thinks of me. Still wants to make me happy.

I kiss her again, softer this time, pouring all the words I can't say into the gentle press of my lips against hers. When we part, I rest my forehead against hers once more, breathing her in.

"Thank you," I murmur, the words feeling inadequate for the depth of what I'm feeling.

As I hold her close, I realize with startling clarity that Lev was right. Anya was always right. I'm obsessed. Enamored. In love. I've fallen for her, hard and fast and completely. And despite the danger, despite the risk, I wouldn't change it for anything in the world.

24

GINNY

Ican't help the smile that spreads across my face as I open the door to find Anya standing there. Her presence is a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of emotions I've been grappling with lately.

"Hey, girl," she says, breezing past me into the living room. "Where's my charming brother?"

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