Page 142 of Betrayal and Vows

"You became my plan." I stroke her cheek with my thumb. “Getting you away from them, keeping you safe—that became everything.”

She's crying now, silent tears that break my heart. “I love you, Anton. I just… I don’t know how we survive this. How do we live?”

“I’ll find a way. Do you trust me?”

“With my whole body and soul.”

“I’ve never felt worthy of love, Lena. I was made for violence. Trained for death. Everything else… kindness, softness, even joy… it wasn’t for me. Until you.”

“Anton—”

“You’re the first person who ever made me want to be human,” I say. “The first one who looked at me and saw something good underneath the blood and the darkness.”

She reaches for my face, cupping my jaw with her good hand.

“You are good,” she says. “Maybe you were broken before. But we all were. That’s how we find each other.”

I turn my head and press a kiss into her palm.

“I’m done being what other people made me,” I whisper. “Help me figure out who I want to be.”

Tears spill down her cheeks. “We will. We’ll find a way. Love conquers all, right?”

I smirk. “I don’t know about that.”

I kiss her.

A slow, aching reverence blooms from deep inside my very soul. She sighs into my mouth.

Her hand slides into my hair, tugging gently.

I slide my hand to her waist, careful of her injury, but she moves closer anyway, climbing into my lap right there on the steps.

My hands roam her back, her hips, her thighs. She’s warm and real and mine.

And I’ll never let her go.

“Lena.”

“I’m fine. Please, Anton. Please make love to me.”

“Inside.” I gently push her off my lap and stand.

We rush inside the cabin, desperation making me feel jittery.

I close the door behind us and turn to find her already pulling off the oversized sweater. She's beautiful—bandaged and bruised but still the most breathtaking thing I've ever seen.

"Let me," I say softly, crossing to her.

My hands replace hers, lifting the sweater over her head. She's wearing nothing underneath. I have to pause just to look at her.

"You're staring," she whispers.

"Always," I murmur. "I will always stare at you."

I trace the line of her collarbone with my fingertips, featherlight touches that make her shiver.

She’s so small.