Page 38 of Salvation

“I know,” she interrupted. “I just want to be close to you. To sleep knowing you’re there.”

I nodded, understanding completely. After the terror of separation, the fear of loss, we both needed the reassurance of proximity. Of heartbeats and breath and warmth that proved we were alive, together, safe.

The bed dipped beneath our weight as we settled side by side, not touching at first, both still navigating this new territory between us. Then Yulia turned toward me, fitting herself against my side as if she’d done it a thousand times before. My arm curved around her shoulders, drawing her closer, her head coming to rest in the hollow beneath my collarbone.

“This is real,” she murmured against my chest, the words more statement than question.

I tightened my hold on her, careful of her ribs, as I pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Yes,” I promised. “This is real.”

In the dim light of the single lamp, with Yulia’s warmth seeping into my bones and her heartbeat steady against me, I finally felt the knot of tension in my chest begin to unravel. We still had healing to do, all of us. There were conversations to be had, fears to be faced, a future to be rebuilt. But for now, for this moment, it was enough to hold her close and know that tomorrow, for the first time in eleven years, we would wake as true husband and wife.

Chapter Ten

Salvation

I couldn’t sleep, even with Yulia’s warmth pressed against me. Eleven years of wanting, of holding back, of telling myself this was enough -- and now she was here, in my bed, her breath steady against my chest. But nothing had been said, not really. “This is real” wasn’t enough after everything we’d been through. She deserved more than that. She deserved the whole truth, even if speaking it aloud terrified me more than facing down armed men ever had.

I shifted carefully, not wanting to disturb her, but she wasn’t asleep either. Her eyes opened, finding mine in the dim light, questioning.

“I’m going to get some water,” I murmured, needing a moment to collect my thoughts. “Do you want anything?”

She shook her head, her dark blonde hair spilling across my pillow as I eased away from her. The floor was cold against my bare feet as I moved to the bathroom, splashing water on my face and staring at my reflection in the mirror. The man who looked back at me seemed older, harder than the one who’d first brought a sixteen-year-old Yulia to live under his protection all those years ago.

When I returned, she’d sat up against the headboard, the sheet pulled up to cover herself. Something in her posture -- a new wariness, a subtle withdrawal -- told me she’d misinterpreted my leaving. Which meant I needed to forget my trek to the kitchen and stay here. There was too much left unsaid between us, and I knew waiting any longer would be a mistake.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my back to her at first, hands clasped between my knees to hide their trembling. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken words.

“Salvation?” Her voice was soft, uncertain. “What is it?”

“I don’t know how to say this.” My voice sounded rougher than I intended, edged with emotions too long contained.

“Say what?” A hint of fear colored her question, and I realized she might be thinking the worst -- that I regretted our kiss, that I was about to pull away again.

I forced myself to turn, to look at her directly. My throat tightened.

“I want this to be real,” I finally managed. “Not just because of what happened.”

Her eyes widened slightly, her lips parting in surprise.

“I want a real marriage,” I continued, the words coming easier now that I’d started. “I have for years. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you. Didn’t know if that was what you wanted. Or if I would end up scaring you and making you want to run from me.”

My hands were definitely shaking now, so I clenched them tighter. What kind of bad-ass biker got all emotional like this? If my brothers could see me now… I took a breath to steady myself.

“When they took you -- when I thought I might never see you again -- I realized what a fucking coward I’ve been. Eleven years, Yulia. Eleven years of living with you, raising Clover with you, wanting you, and never having the guts to just say it. Well, not those first few years. I’m not a sick bastard who thought of a broken teenager that way. It wasn’t until later, when you were about twenty, that I started seeing you differently.”

She hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, her face frozen in an expression I couldn’t quite read. Had I misunderstood the meaning of our kiss? Had I completely misjudged what was happening between us?

“If you don’t feel the same,” I said quickly, “nothing has to change. We can go back to how things were. I just needed you to know --”

“Salvation. Kye.” My name on her lips stopped me cold. Her voice trembled, thick with emotion. “I have wanted that for so long I can’t remember when it started.”

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “What?”

She shifted forward, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at her bruised ribs, but determined nonetheless. “I have been in love with you for years,” she said, her accent more pronounced with emotion. “I just never thought… I was afraid…”

Her hand reached for mine, fingers sliding between my own, the simple contact sending electricity up my arm. “I thought you saw me as an obligation. A responsibility. The damaged girl you had to protect.”

“No.” I squeezed her fingers, anchoring myself to her touch. “Never that. Not for a long time.

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