Page 223 of Arrow

I turned to face him, watching as his eyes darkened further. “Do you like it?”

His response was to lift me and place me on the edge of the bed, his hands sliding up my thighs beneath the silk. “I’ll show you exactly how much I like it,” he promised, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that made my skin prickle with anticipation.

As Arrow knelt before me, his eyes never leaving mine, I felt something shift between us—something fundamental changing with each passing moment. This wasn’t just about possession anymore, or dominance, or the complicated game we’d been playing since the beginning. This was about the vows we’d made, the promises we’d exchanged, the future we were building together.

“I love you,” I whispered, the words feeling right on my tongue despite their terrifying weight. “God help me, but I do.”

Arrow’s expression softened, something vulnerable flashing across his face before his usual mask slipped back into place. “You keep saying that like it’s a curse rather than a blessing.”

“Isn’t it?” I asked, my fingers finding their way into his hair. “In our world, love is the most dangerous weakness of all.”

Arrow’s hands tightened on my thighs. “Not weakness,” he corrected. “Power. Love is the most dangerous power of all.”

“You don’t have to say it back,” I whispered, suddenly afraid I’d overstepped. “I just needed you to know.”

Arrow’s hands slid up my thighs, the silk of my nightgown whispering against his palms. “I’ve loved you since the night I took you from your father’s home,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “You were fearless despite having every reason to be terrified. I watched you survive your father’s cruelty, watched you become stronger instead of broken. You were everything I never knew I needed.”

Tears pricked at my eyes. I’d spent so long believing I was unlovable—a pawn, a burden, a weapon—that hearing Arrow’s words felt like the most terrifying kind of healing.

“I don’t know how to do this,” I admitted, my voice breaking. “I don’t know how to be someone who’s loved.”

Arrow rose, his tall frame towering over me as I sat on the edge of the bed. His fingers found the hem of my nightgown, slowly drawing it upward. “Then let me show you,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine.

The silk slid over my skin like water, catching on the curve of my breasts before Arrow pulled it over my head. His breath caught as he saw me revealed in the candlelight—naked except for my new wedding ring and the tiny tattoo below my breast.

“What’s this?” he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as his fingers traced the fresh ink.

My gift to him—a small, delicate tattoo of his initials in elegant script, positioned where only he would see it when I was undressed.

“A wedding present,” I said, watching his reaction carefully. “Il mio diavolo, la mia rovina.”

“My devil, my ruin,” he whispered in awe, as his eyes darkened.

His fingers traced the fresh ink with reverent care, his expression shifting from surprise to something darker, more possessive. The candles cast shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones as he studied my gift to him.

His thumb continued to trace the letters, sending shivers across my skin. “Why?”

“Because I wanted something permanent,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. “Something that would always remind me that I chose this. I chose you.”

Arrow’s expression softened in a way I’d never seen before. He lowered his head, his lips pressing gently against the fresh tattoo, making me gasp. The touch was reverent, almost worshipful, a stark contrast to the demanding way he usually claimed me.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against my skin, his breath hot against the sensitive flesh.

“Probably not,” I agreed, my fingers threading through his hair. “But you have me anyway.”

His eyes lifted to meet mine, dark with emotion I couldn’t quite name. “All of you?”

“All of me,” I confirmed, meaning it with every fiber of my being. “The good, the bad, the broken parts.”

Arrow’s eyes lifted to meet mine, and I saw something raw and vulnerable in their depths. “You continue to surprise me, Mrs. Romanov.”

“Good,” I replied, my hands finding his tie and pulling him closer. “I’d hate for our marriage to become predictable.”

His laugh was low and dark as he pressed his forehead against mine. “That will never happen. With you, I’m always one step from chaos.”

“Is that a complaint?” I asked, working at his tie with growing impatience.

Arrow’s hands captured mine, stilling them. “It’s the highest compliment I could give.” His lips brushed against my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. “You’ve turned my entire world upside down, and I wouldn’t change a thing.”