Page 83 of Cruel Submission

Then she moves.

Her hand comes up, covering mine where it rests against her face. Tears spill over, tracking down her cheeks.

“Yes.”

The word breaks something loose in my chest.

“Yes?”

“Yes.” She’s nodding now, crying and smiling at the same time. “Yes, I’ll marry you, you infuriating, secretive, impossible man.”

I don’t remember moving. Don’t remember reaching for her. But suddenly she’s in my arms, the sheet falling away, her body pressed against mine. I kiss her—hard enough to bruise, one hand fisting in her hair, the other arm banded around her waist. She makes a sound against my mouth, half gasp, half moan. I taste salt from her tears, the sweetness beneath.

I bite her lower lip. Not hard enough to break skin. Just hard enough to remind her who she belongs to.

“Give me your hand,” I say against her mouth.

She does. Left hand, fingers trembling slightly.

I slide the ring on. It fits perfectly. The diamond catches light, throws it back at us in tiny rainbows.

Mirabel stares at it. Then at me. Then back at her hand.

“It’s beautiful.”

“So are you.”

She laughs. Actually laughs. The sound fills the gray-lit room, chases away some of the shadows that live here permanently.

“You’re going to be a husband,” she says, wonder in her voice. “And a father. Of two.”

“I know.”

“Are you scared?”

“Terrified.” More truth. The kind that used to make me feel exposed. Weak. “But fear makes you sharp. Makes you lethal. I can work with terrified.”

She laughs softly. “That’s the most Arkady thing you’ve ever said.”

“It’s true.” I pull her closer. “I’m afraid I’ll fuck this up. Afraid I’ll fail you the way I failed Mishka. But I’m more afraid of what I’ll become if I lose you. So yeah, zaychik. Terrified works.”

“Crazy man.” She shakes her head, smiling.

“Your crazy man. Now… come here.” I pull her back down to the mattress, arranging her against my chest. My hand finds her stomach again, resting there. Protecting. “Get some more sleep.”

“It’s almost morning.”

“I don’t care.”

She settles against me with a sigh. Her breath evens out quickly, exhaustion pulling her under. I stay awake, watching the light grow stronger through the curtains. Feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. The warmth of her skin. The weight of what I’ve just done.

Engaged.

To a woman who’s carrying my baby.

Who loves her sister more than her own life.

Who won’t stop asking questions.