I love you

Larissa melted.

Lukyan's lips were warm, steady, certain.

This was different.

Not like before—when they had fought each other, burned for each other, taken from each other.

This was gentler.

And that? That scared her more than anything.

Because it felt real.

Because it was real.

Her fingers curled into his shirt.

And when he lifted her, carrying her to bed, she let him.

Because tonight?

Tonight, she wasn't fighting him.

Or herself.

---

She let him hold her.

Let him press her into the bed.

Let him touch her like she was his.

And this time—

He took his time.

No rush. No desperation.

Because now?

Now, he wasn't just trying to make her feel him.

He was trying to make her understand.

That this was never just a contract.

That she had always been more.

That she was his.

And by the time he was done, by the time she was trembling beneath him, whispering his name like a prayer—

She knew it too.

The next day

Larissa woke to warmth.

To safety.

To Lukyan.

His arm was heavy over her waist, his breath warm against her bare shoulder.

And God help her, it felt right.

Like she was meant to be here.

Like she had spent years fighting a war she was never meant to win.

Her throat tightened.

Because what now?

Did she leave anyway?

Did she walk away from this—from him—because of a contract she no longer wanted to obey?

Or did she stay?

Did she risk everything—**her fear, her walls, her heart—**and finally admit the truth?

That she loved him.

She loved him.

And she had been a fool to ever think she wouldn't.

---