Page 28 of Her Darkest Possession (Baryshev Bratva #2)

"What if I can give you a real home again, Indigo? Not just a mansion with guards and weapons hidden in every room, but a home where you feel safe because you are loved. A home with that special ingredient that makes the food taste as good as it does tonight."

I pull back slightly to look at his face, searching for any sign that he's not being serious.

"I'd be lying if I told you I haven't thought about what life would be like without the bratva," I admit softly. "But I know it's just a fantasy. There's not a way to ever escape this life."

Anatoly's shifts, and I can see he wants to contradict me, but I continue before he can.

"In the time I've been here, I've come to recognize that the bratva isn't just an organization. It's a system. A system designed to keep those who enter it forever inside it."

"We'll find a way out," Anatoly says with conviction, his hand squeezing mine.

"We won't be able to." I shake my head. "You can't just leave and expect all of our enemies won't come looking for us. You can't leave and just expect that all the blood on our hands—on both our hands—will just fade away."

I take a deep breath. "And honestly? I'm not even sure I want to go back to a life where the bratva isn't part of it. Like it or not, this is the life we've chosen."

His eyes search mine, uncertainty flickering across his face.

"And for what it's worth, Anatoly," I tell him firmly. "You have given me a home. You've made me your wife, crowned me your queen, and now we'll face the greatest challenge of our lives: being parents."

I cup his face between my palms. "You didn't marry Amelia Taylor, who would've wanted nothing more than to go back to a time before innocence was lost. You married Indigo Taylor, who has stared into the abyss and knows what stares back."

Anatoly's hands come up to cup my face, his thumbs brushing across my cheekbones. "I promised you there was a way for you to go back."

"You did," I acknowledge with a small nod. "But I don't want to. Not anymore. This is where I belong. Here, with you, my husband. My pakhan. My king."

His eyes widen slightly at that last word, and I can see a flicker of something intense pass through them—pride, possession, devotion.

He continues to stroke my face with pads of his thumb.

With each full circle against my skin, the heat continues to rise in my heart.

There's a seriousness in his eyes that makes my heart race.

And when he opens his mouth again to speak, I know what he's about to say before the words even leave his lips.

"I love you, Indigo."

My heartbeat quickens at Anatoly's confession, each beat thundering in my ears like a drum. Time stretches and slows around us as his words hang in the air between us.

I turn in his lap until I'm facing him completely with my legs straddling his thighs. The dining room fades away until there's nothing but him. Nothing other than this dangerous, complicated man who came into my life like a hurricane and changed everything.

I become hyper-aware of my body—every nerve ending, every cell, and every breath. The weight of my body against his. The warmth of his hands resting on my hips and face. The rise and fall of his chest underneath me.

Our eyes lock, and I see something I never thought I'd see in those icy blue depths—vulnerability.

Anatoly Baryshev is looking at me like I hold his heart in my hands.

And I do, I realize.

Just as he holds mine.

Heat rises between us, familiar yet different. It's charged with something deeper than just desire. My skin prickles with awareness, and a flush starts creeping up my neck to my cheeks.

I've known this truth for weeks now, even if I couldn't admit it to myself. Even when I stopped him from saying those words before we were almost parted forever.

Back then, I was afraid of what hearing those words might mean. I was afraid of giving him that final piece of myself.

But I'm not afraid anymore.

Slowly, with trembling hands, I cup his face and feel the sharp lines of his jaw against my palm, the roughness of stubble beneath my fingers, and his warm breath tickling my skin.

His eyes never leave mine as I lean closer until our breaths mingle.

"I love you too, Anatoly," I whisper against his lips.

Anatoly tips forward and captures my lips in a soft and reverent kiss. I kiss him back slowly yet fiercely, savoring the moment. His tongue sweeps into my mouth and my tongue meets it slowly and sensuously, dancing with his in a familiar rhythm that still feels new each time.

My hips begin to slowly move on their own, grinding against him. I feel him harden beneath me, and a soft moan escapes from the back of my throat. He tastes like the wine we were drinking, rich and intoxicating.

His hands slide from my hips to cup my ass, encouraging the slow roll of my body against his. The friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting up my spine, and I break the kiss to catch my breath.

"I love you," I whisper again, because now that I've said it once, I want to say it over and over. I want to say it until the words are etched into his skin, into his heart.

His pupils dilate, those blue eyes darkening with desire as he looks at me like I'm everything he's ever wanted. One of his hands slides up my back, cupping the nape of my neck beneath my hair.

"Say it again," he commands softly.

I roll my hips again, deliberate and teasing now. "I love you, Tolya."

He groans at the nickname, the sound rumbling through his chest and into mine where we're pressed together. His fingers tighten in my hair, not painfully, but with enough pressure to make me gasp.

"Again," he whispers against my lips.

"I love you," I breathe, my voice breaking slightly as his other hand slips beneath my shirt until it finds bare skin.