Page 60 of Crowned In Venom
60
ANYA
T he first thing I feel is warmth.
Not pain. Not fear. Not the crushing weight of battle or the suffocating grip of despair.
Just warmth.
It cradles me, a soft, steady heat, familiar and grounding. The scent of leather and smoke, steel and something distinctly him wraps around me, pulling me back from the void.
I shift, my body aching but whole.
There is no more darkness.
No more pain.
I am alive.
A breath shudders from my lips as my eyes flutter open.
And the first thing I see is Varkos.
He is sitting at my bedside, his broad frame hunched forward, his hands clutching mine. His head is bowed slightly, his dark hair falling forward in loose waves.
But it is his eyes that stop my heart.
The moment he sees me stir, everything in him stills.
A slow, shuddering breath.
Then—relief crashes through him like a storm breaking.
"Anya," he exhales, his voice raw, wrecked.
His fingers tighten around mine, as if he’s afraid I might disappear. As if he still doesn’t believe this is real.
My lips part, but no words come.
I just look at him.
Truly look at him.
The bruises along his jaw, the healing wound on his side. The exhaustion lining his face. The quiet, desperate way he watches me, like I am the most precious thing in existence.
Like I am his everything.
And in this moment, I know.
We did it.
The Matriarch is dead.
Her reign is over.
And Varkos is free.
"We won?" My voice is hoarse, barely a whisper.
His lips part—and suddenly, he is moving.
He leans over me, pressing his forehead to mine, his body trembling.
"We won," he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin.
A sharp ache blooms in my chest, an overwhelming, unbearable flood of emotions.
Relief. Joy. Love.
I lift a shaking hand, brushing his cheek.
He leans into my touch like a dying being finding salvation.
"You stayed," I whisper.
His throat works, his eyes burning.
"Always."
And then he kisses me.
Slow. Deep.
Like a promise.
Like a prayer.
There is no battle between us now. No war. No game of power and control.
Only this.
Only us.
When he pulls back, he holds me so gently it almost breaks me.
"What happens now?" I ask.
For the first time, I do not know.
Varkos studies me, his gaze dark and unreadable. But then—it softens.
"That depends." He exhales slowly, his hands cradling my face. "On what you want."
I blink, taken aback. What I want?
He has always been the one with power, the one dictating the course of my fate. And yet, here he is—offering it to me.
"Varkos…" My voice trembles.
"Do you want to rule?" he asks, searching my gaze. “To lead the people in the Matriarch’s territory?”
I falter. Do I?
For so long, my only desire was to destroy. To burn everything down.
But now…
Now, I just want to be with him.
"No," I whisper. "I want…"
I swallow hard, my fingers curling into his tunic.
"I want us."
His eyes darken, something unreadable flickering through them.
And then, he smiles.
Not the sharp, cruel smirk I first knew.
Not the calculating grin of a dark elf lord.
But something real.
Something soft.
"Then we leave," he says. "We start over. Somewhere far from here."
My breath catches. Leave?
"You would give it all up?" I murmur.
He nods without hesitation. "I would give up anything for you."
His words strike me like a blade—but there is no pain.
Only overwhelming love.
Gods.
I love him.
I have for so long, in ways I never allowed myself to name.
Tears burn my eyes. "Then let’s go."
His hands cup my face, his thumbs brushing away my tears.
"Anya," he whispers, his voice reverent. "Be mine."
My breath stutters.
"What?"
"Be my mate." His voice is quiet but unshakable. "Forever."
Tears slip down my cheeks.
"Varkos—"
"Say yes," he pleads, his voice breaking. "Say yes, Anya."
I smile. Bright. Radiant. Whole.
"Yes."
And then he kisses me.
And I know?—
This is our beginning.