Page 165 of Ruined Vows
He loves me enough to walk away if I ask him to.
He holds me in his arms, and I know he’s waiting for me to give him a sign.
“Stay.” It’s more than a whisper.
One word that means everything.
Because for the first time since we’ve met, I’ve chosen him. Not because I have to. But because I want to. And this time, I’m not hiding behind my quick wit.
He doesn’t speak right away. But I swear his breathing hitches with emotion as he kisses my forehead and buries a hand in my hair as he holds me tight.
He cups my jaw, thumb brushing beneath my eye like he’s memorizing the shape of this moment. Like it’s holy.
“I love you,” he says.
“Say that again,” I say.
“I love you,” he whispers against my face.
I lean in. Press my lips to his, and where the heart I almost lost still beats, I know we’ll get through this.
And then, finally, I let myself fall into him.
And surprisingly, the world doesn’t end. It just... exhales.
And for the first time in my life, I breathe with it.
And my world slows. Because I believe him, and that’s what terrifies me.
I never thought the Borrelli curse applied to me, but I was wrong because love in our world is a curse.
I can’t be his weakness. I don’t want to be a burden to him. But he kneels, not for forgiveness, not to bind me, but to give me truth. And for one brief, blinding moment, I almost say it back.
Almost. But I don’t. Because I can’t. Not yet. Instead, I touch his face. Memorize the sharp edges and the shadows in his gray eyes.
Then, I whispered the only thing I knew for sure. I don’t want to live without him.
“Don’t die.”
His jaw tenses. His breath catches. And then he nods. He stands, pulls me into his arms, and carries me to our room.
His arms wrap around me like armor, steady and strong. He doesn’t speak as he carries me, just breathes—deep, controlled. But I feel the weight of my words in the silence between us.
Don’t die.
He tosses me on the bed. And then he’s over me, he brushes my hair from my face and looks at me like I’m made of stars and blood and every vow he never dared to speak aloud.
His arms wrap around me like armor, steady and strong. He doesn’t speak as he carries me, just breathes—deep, controlled. But I feel the weight of my words in the silence between us.
Don’t die.
He sets me down gently, like I’m breakable, though we both know I’m not. Not anymore. He brushes my hair from my face and looks at me like I’m made of stars and blood and every vow he never dared to speak aloud.
“Undress,” he says. One word. A command wrapped in velvet.
My breath hitches, but I obey. I always do, not because I have to, but because I want to. Because there’s safety in surrender, and power in being seen. His gaze doesn’t stray. Itholds me captive, even as my fingers tremble on the buttons of my shirt.
He doesn't touch me yet. Instead, he walks to the drawer, pulling out the silk ropes with the same reverence he uses to unsheathe his blade. His voice is low, rough with intent when he turns back to me.
