Page 103 of Imperfect Desires

His truth poured out between us like blood from an old wound, and now there’s only stillness left. Stillness… and the heat of the man who swore he wasn’t worthy, even as he became the safest place I’ve ever known.

I run my fingers down his jaw, over the faint stubble lining his skin. He exhales a breath that trembles slightly, and I catch the flicker in his eyes when they finally meet mine. I shift closer, curling into his side. He doesn’t hesitate; he wraps his arm around me, tucking me in as if I belong there. As if I’ve always belonged there.

We sit in silence under the stars, the wind brushing cool against my face, Lev’s body warm against mine. I rest my hand on his chest and feel the strong, steady thump of his heart beneath my fingers. It's the same heart that once belonged to a broken boy. The same heart that came back for me.

I close my eyes and whisper into the dark, “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to stay.”

His arm tightens.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I shift in his arms and look up. “Can I tell you something?” I ask.

He looks down, his eyes softer now. “Anything.”

“I used to lie awake at night, wondering where you went. Why you left. And then I hated myself for still wanting you.”

He flinches slightly, but I shake my head and keep going. “I tried to be angry. I tried to stop loving you. But I never could.”

He studies me like he’s memorizing every line of my face. “Why?”

“Because I saw you,” I say simply. “The way you watched over Viktor. The way you protected us without ever needing a thank-you. You were already everything… even when you didn’t believe it.”

He lowers his head, resting his forehead against mine again. This time, there’s no weight in the silence—only a quiet understanding.

“You terrify me,” he whispers.

I blink. “Why?”

“Because you make me want to live for something more than violence.”

I reach for his hand and place it on my belly. “Then live for this,” I whisper.

His fingers flex slightly over the blanket that separates his skin from mine. I watch his eyes as they shift—something fierce and fragile flickers through them like firelight.

“I already am,” he says. “You and our baby are my only reasons for living now.”

The horizon begins to blush with the faintest stroke of pink by the time we go back inside.

Lev helps me into bed like I’m made of porcelain—his touch so gentle, it nearly undoes me. I let him fuss, pulling the blanket up over my shoulders, brushing the hair from my face like it’s second nature.

“Come lie by me.” I invite.

“Not yet,moya lyubov'”

A small smile dances on my lips because Lev just called me his love. When I drift off, it’s to the sound of his breath, his hand in mine, his heart still beating—steady and present—beside me.

For the first time since that nightmare began, I sleep without fear because Lev Ivanov didn’t just come back for me.

He came home to me.

35

Lev

The room smells like old paper and anger.

I lean against the far wall, arms crossed over my chest, as Viktor paces behind his desk. Zasha sits calmly in one of the leather chairs, quiet yet alert—he hasn’t spoken much all night, but I can sense the coiled tension in him like a blade sheathed for too long.

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