Page 19 of BRATVA'S Poisoner Bride
Elizabeth shifts, her fingers curling lightly against my chest, and I swear the foundation of this house could crumble and I would still stay perfectly still just to feel her sleep another minute longer in my arms.
This isn’t temporary. This isn’t a mistake. This is the moment everything in my life pivots.
I kiss the top of her head, a quiet press of lips to hair that tastes like lemons and the lingering sweetness of last night’s cake. A domestic scent hiding a deadly truth. A truth only we share.
She killed a man who deserved to die.
I would have killed Piotr myself one day. She simply beat me to it. And now the woman who destroyed a monster sleeps against the heart that has chosen her as its fate.
My fate.
I tighten my arm around her, protective, unyielding. I will build a kingdom around this bed if I have to. I will burn down anyone who tries to take her from me. Even those who share my blood.
Especially them.
She stirs again, this time with a soft hum deep in her throat. Her nose brushes against my skin as she shifts, her lips grazing lightly over my chest in a touch that sets every nerve in me alight.
Her voice is a whisper against my skin. “You’re staring.”
“I’m memorizing,” I answer.
Her eyes flutter open, still heavy with sleep, and for a moment she seems disoriented by contentment. As though waking up safe feels unfamiliar. Undeserved.
Her hand lifts, fingertips tracing one of the tattoos along my collarbone, following it like she’s learning new geography. “This doesn’t feel real,” she murmurs.
“It iss real,” I assure her, catching her chin so she has to see the certainty in my eyes. “And it only gets more real from here.”
She swallows, doubt flickering across her features, a ghost of old fear. “You don’t even know everything about me.”
“I know the parts that matter,” I say. “And the rest, you’ll tell me when you’re ready. Or I’ll learn by watching you.” My thumb strokes her lower lip. “I’m a very observant man.”
Her pulse jumps beneath my fingers.
“Are you attached to this house?” I ask.
She considers my question for a long moment, before lightly shrugging her bare shoulder. “I used to be. But now it’s a bleak place. The place where my mom died. Where my dad turned his back on me.” She shakes her head as she wills the sadness away. “I still have a few things that belonged to my mom and my grandmother. I’m attached to those.”
“Okay. In that case, I’m taking you away from here,” I tell her, voice low but absolute. “Today. You don’t spend another night in this mausoleum pretending you’re not alone.”
Her breath catches. “Where would we go?”
“My home,” I say simply. “Where you’ll be protected. Where I can keep you close and mostly naked.” I pinch her ass playfully to punctuate my point and she giggles. “Where anyone who looks at you with the wrong intention won’t leave alive.”
She exhales shakily, something like relief breaking through her hesitation. “And my father…?”
“Your father made his choices,” I say, voice like tempered steel. “You’re making yours.”
I let my hand rest over her heart, feeling its beautiful, defiant rhythm under the slope of her beautiful breast.
“You’re with me now,” I say. “And I’m going to make that the safest truth you’ve ever known.”
She looks up at me with those winter-blue eyes, still soft from sleep, still unsure if she’s allowed to want anything just because it feels good. I can feel the question trembling in her, the need to give something back after everything I’ve taken, everything I’ve given.
When her hand slides down my stomach, slow and careful, like she’s afraid I’ll stop her, my entire body locks tight.
“Elizabeth,” I warn, voice already shredded, but she only shakes her head, hair spilling over her shoulders like ink.
“I want to,” she whispers. “Let me.”
