Page 93 of Claimed By Desire

“This should be a happy moment,” I tell him, feeling bad. “I’m just so emotional.”

“You have every right to be.” He hugs me tight. “But we’re in this together, baby. You and me. You know I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know that.”

“I’ll do anything for you.”

“For me? Not just for the baby?”

“For you.” He tilts my chin toward him. “You know how I feel about you by now.”

“You haven’t said it.”

“Do I need to?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes it’s nice to actually hear the words.”

His smile is gently. My stomach is a mess of butterflies and nerves. Why do I feel like I might melt on the spot? He leans down and kisses me.

“I love you, Natalya. Come on, don’t start crying harder.”

“IT’s not you,” I say, wiping my face. “I’m just happy. And feeling happy makes me feel guilty as hell because of Lev. It’s just such a mess.”

“No matter what happens with him, we’ll have each other. I won’t let you go.”

“Even though this is supposed to be just temporary?”

He smile is dangerous. “This stopped beingtemporarythe moment you came into my life. It just took me longer than it should have to finally admit it.”

I kiss him again. “I love you too, by the way,” I whisper.

And he laughs. He squeezes my ass and hugs me to him. “I know.”

We stay like that together in our nursery, swaying slightly as we hold onto each other like we’re caught in the center of a storm and just trying to survive, but I see a path out of the darkness. It’s rocky and strewn with hidden traps, but if anyone can get me through, it’ll be him. It’ll be the man I’ve always hated. The man I’ve always loved.

The man that finally fills that lonely void in my heart.

Chapter 36

Alexander

Igive Lev another day before I get tired of this shit and hunt him down.

It’s not easy, since he’s not answering calls. But eventually, around midnight the night after I showed Natalya the nursery, I find him hanging drywall in the back room of Fed Jeweler.

He’s got a bunch of floodlights set up and loud music playing. A couple empty beers are on the floor and another one’s sweating in the humid evening air. I sit back and watch him work for a few minutes, sweating and grunting with exertion. His mask is down again, and there’s almost no feeling in his face as he moves through the room, putting his body to work.

This is what he does when he’s stressed. Lev doesn’t like to sit still. Even when we were younger, I’d find him in the basement of his family’s house punching a heavy bag for hours. He’s normally good at distracting himself, but sometimes it feels like the darkness he’s hiding gets too much for him, and he has to pull away.

“You gonna stand there and fucking watch all night or are you gonna help?” He looks over to where I’ve been lurking, grabs a beer from the cooler, and throws it over.

I catch it and crack it open. “I wasn’t sure I was welcome.”

“You’re not, but the extra set of hands are.”

I pour down half my beer, strip off my shirt, and join him.

There’s something cathartic about the work. I have to admit, I get why he does it. We work together in silence for nearly an hour, putting up a few panels, drinking a few beers. Sweat rolls down my back and shoulders. Lev slowly seems to relax into himself, and his coldness recedes. He’s not smiling and joking around, but he doesn’t look like he’s about to murder a puppy anymore.

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