Page 97 of Unholy Tsar

I push away from his chest, frowning at him. “Of course, I meant it. I don’t just throw those words around. I-I love you, Maksim Smolov.”

“And I love you, dushen’ka.” He pulls me back into his arms, and I go with a happy sigh.

For a moment, I just allow myself to be happy. But then I notice how quiet it’s become. Lifting my head, I look around. And that’s when I realize everyone has left to give us some privacy.

I smile.

“I hope my nephews and niece have been treating you well?”

“The best,” I assure him. “They made it all a little more bearable. I don’t know if I could have survived if I had to go through it alone.”

“Good.” He runs his hand up and down my back in that familiar way of his, and I sigh, sinking back into him.

After a few more minutes, there’s a short knock at the door, and I try to shift away from Maksim, but he won’t let me.

“Hope we’re not interrupting,” a voice comes from outside.

The doctor enters first, followed by the rest of the family. My cheeks heat up at the intimate embrace Maksim and I are sharing, but he doesn’t let me move an inch.

“I want them to know,” Maksim whispers, so only I can hear. “You’re mine… and I’m yours. Forever, dushen’ka.”

I melt into the safety of his words.

“Forever.”

We spend the next two weeks holed up in our Russian hotel, waiting for Maksim to heal enough for travel.

He’s not a big fan of the delay, but his family doesn’t budge on the matter—and neither do I. Eventually, though, it’s time.

“How do you feel?” I ask, watching him carefully as we finally make our way down the plane stairs.

“Happy to be home. Finally,” he smiles.

Lifting his chin, he inhales deeply. I do the same. Smells like home. But it’s not the crisp New York air. It’s the scent softly drifting from the man next to me.

“We were home in Russia,” I note, helping him into the back of our car.

He grunts impatiently, not entirely happy with how I’ve been babying him while he recovers. Still, he doesn’t fight. Instead, he asks, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, even when we were in Russia, I felt at home. Anywhere we go in the world can be home now. Because home isn’t a place anymore. It’s a person. Home is you.”

His eyes soften. “Dushen’ka. You humble me.”

“So don’t be too mad at me for being careful with you. I wouldn’t survive in a world where you don’t exist, Maksim. Not anymore.”

“It’s the same for me, Solnyshko. You’re the air that I breathe. Ya tebya lyublyu.”

“I love you too.” I smile at him.

Then I take out my phone and google the meaning of soleenshko. Google autocorrects me. It’s Solnyshko, and it means my sun.

I’m his sun, and he’s my home.

Forever.

Epilogue

MAKSIM