Page 88 of Crown of Hate

27

ALYA

The world stops spinning. I’m sure of it. And I swear, if I went outside right now, the stars will have stopped twinkling, too. It’s like the universe itself is holding its breath.

Even my lungs forget how to function. My brain short-circuits. I’m frozen in time, gawking at Mikhail like a slack-jawed idiot because, holy hell, he just dropped the L-bomb on me. This has to be some kind of fever dream… right?

Well, if it is, I never want to wake up.

Mikhail breaks our kiss, and I huff nervously, trying to brush it off. “Come on. Don’t tease me like that.” But I’m still trembling from what he just did to me. Everything feels weak, including my resolve.

In response, Mikhail hauls me closer and presses me against his wet, muscular frame. “Feel how fast my heart is beating. Does it sound like I’m teasing you?”

He’s not lying. His heartbeat is wild and frantic, matching my own. “No,” I mumble mostly to myself. “It doesn’t.”

Mikhail isn’t the type to crack jokes about something like this. But it’s so hard to believe that this powerful, enigmatic mancould actually love me—me, of all people—especially with how we reacted to my declaration.

It just doesn’t feel real, no matter how badly I want it to be.

His finger finds my chin and he tilts my face up. Our eyes lock, and suddenly I’m drowning in those impossibly intense blue pools. “I don’t know when or how I fell in love with you. Maybe it was love at first sight, maybe it took a second. Who the fuck cares. But out of everything in my life, only one thing is certain right now: I love you, Alya, and I’ve been in love with you longer than I ever realized.”

I blink at him, my jaw practically on the floor. “But at the club?—”

“I was a fucking idiot. You took me by surprise, and I choked. There’s a war coming, and I kept thinking, what if I don’t make it back to you?”

A little wave of nausea washes through me at the thought. I squeeze my eyes shut, inhaling deeply. When I open them again, I cup his cheeks and smile. “You’re not that easy to kill, Mikhail Zhirkov. You’ll always find your way back home. I know you will.”

“My home is with you.”

My cheeks flush. It’s all so overwhelming. I don’t know what to say—and it finally helps me understand what he must have been going through when I confessed my love to him.

The nausea settles.

“Well, I’m right here,” I manage to mumble.

“Not for long,” he nods. “We’re leaving for Russia in two days.”

“What? Why?”

“I’ll explain everything, don’t worry. But I need to know you’re in. That you want to come with me, even if it means leaving behind everything you have here.”

I only hesitate for a second before instinct tells me exactly what I need to do—or maybe it’s not instinct, maybe it’s just love.

“I’m in.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod. “As sure as I’m ever going to be.

Mikhail kisses my forehead. “Then it’s settled. We’ll be together, no matter what happens.”

“Always,” I whisper back, my heart swelling.

Another forehead kiss, gentler this time. “I’m sorry for being such a bastard,” he says, then hesitates before forcefully adding, “I’m so lucky to have you, Alya. You have no idea.”

Oh, but I do. Because I’m the one who struck gold here. Losing my papa was hard as hell, but Mikhail stepped in and filled that void. He became my protector, my husband, and my friend. He’s more than I ever dared to hope for—even if he truly is a bastard sometimes. At least he’smybastard.

A smile fills my face… but I feel it falter when that wave of nausea hits me again.

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