Page 101 of Lethal Devotion
"I thought it would be easier," I admit, my voice barely audible. "For both of us."
"Easier for who? Because it sure as hell wasn't easier for me." There are tears in her voice now, and each one feels like a knife to my chest. "Do you have any idea what these past few hours have been like? Thinking I might lose you before I could tell you how I really feel?"
The guilt is crushing. I've been so focused on my own pain, my own fears, that I didn't consider what walking away would do to her. I'm supposed to protect her, not hurt her, but that's exactly what I did.
"Sienna—"
"No, let me finish." She takes a shaky breath, and I can see her gathering her courage. "I need you to promise me something, Damian. I need you to promise me you'll never walk away from me like that again."
The request hits me like a physical blow. She's asking me to promise something I'm not sure I can deliver, because my first instinct will always be to protect her, even if that means protecting her from me.
"I can't promise that. If it means keeping you safe?—"
"Stop." The word cracks like a whip, and I blink in surprise at the authority in her voice. "Stop making decisions for me. Stop deciding what I can and can't handle. I'm not some fragile flower that's going to wilt at the first sign of trouble."
But she is fragile, at least compared to me. She's softness and light in a world of violence and darkness. She deserves better than what I can give her.
"You don't understand what I am," I say desperately, needing her to see the truth. "What I've done. The things I'm capable of?—"
"I know exactly what you are." She leans forward, her voice fierce with conviction. "You're the man who saved me from that warehouse. You're the man who married me to keep me safe, even though you barely knew me. You're the man who's been nothing but gentle with my son. You’re the man who showed me what pleasure was, when no one else ever has.”
"That's not all I am?—"
"No, it's not," she agrees readily. "You're also brutal. You're dangerous. You kill people, and you're good at it. You frighten other people, powerful people, with just a look." She pauses, and when she speaks again, her words stop my heart. "And I don't care."
"What?" The word comes out strangled.
"I don't care that you're brutal, Damian. I don't care that you frighten others. I don't care about your past or the blood on your hands or any of it." Her hand comes up to cup my face, her touch gentle against the rough stubble. "Because you don't frighten me. You never have. Even that first night, when I was terrified of everything, I wasn't afraid of you. Not really. And honestly…" She shrugs, the tiniest smile quirking the corner of her mouth. “I kind of like it. Idolike it. I like that I’ll always feel safe with you. That no one will ever go through you to get to me or Adam. Ilikebeing protected… but I always want it to be you who protects me.”
My throat feels tight, disbelief washing through me. How is that possible? How can she look at me—at what I am, what I've done—and not be afraid? "You should be afraid of me," I whisper, because it's the truth. I'm a killer, a man who's taken more lives than I can count. I should terrify her.
"Why? Because you might hurt me?" She shakes her head, smiling softly. "You won't. I know you won't. You'd die before you'd hurt me or Adam. You’ve been handling me like I’m made of glass from the first time you touched me, because you were afraid you might harm me in some small way. I’ll never be afraid of you, Damian."
The certainty in her voice undoes me. She sees things in me that I can't see. And maybe… maybe she's right. Maybe I've been so focused on what I am that I couldn’t see who I could be.
"Sienna—"
"I love you," she whispers, cutting me off with words that hit me like a sledgehammer to the chest. "I love all of you—the gentle parts and the brutal parts and everything in between. I love you, and I want this marriage. I want us. But only if you'll fight for it too."
I stare at her, this incredible woman who somehow sees something worth loving in a man like me. The words I've been too afraid to say are right there, burning in my throat, but they feel too big, too important.
"I don't know how to do this," I admit, my voice rough with emotion. "I don't know how to be what you need. I don’t know how to say the right things."
"You already are what I need," she tells me with such conviction that I almost believe her. "You just have to stop running from it."
"I'm not good at… feelings. At talking about this stuff." It's an understatement. I've spent my entire adult life avoiding anything that resembles emotional vulnerability.
Despite everything, she smiles. "I've noticed. But you don't have to be perfect, Damian. You just have to be willing to try."
Willing to try.I've spent so long convinced that I couldn't have this, that I didn't deserve it, that I never considered the possibility of just… trying.
Slowly, carefully, I reach up to cup her face with my free hand. Her skin is soft under my palm, and I brush my thumb across her cheekbone, wiping away a tear I didn't realize had fallen.
"I love you," I say quietly, and the words feel like a breath I’ve been holding, like I can finally take in air again now that I’ve said them out loud. "God help me, I love you so much it scares the hell out of me." I can hear my heart beating hard, the machine beeping faster now. “But I do, Sienna. I love you.”
Her smile spreads across her face, radiant and beautiful. "Good. Because I love you too."
"I was wrong," I continue, the words coming easier now. "I was wrong to walk away from you. I was wrong to think I could just… turn this off. Turn you off."
