Page 130 of Feral King

He leans in and rests his forehead against mine as I press the picture against my chest. We stay that way for a long while.

My little kidney bean is safe. Julian is safe. I am safe.

It’s all that matters.

Misha’s room is on the ICU floor.

He’s in a private suite—Julian made sure of that. The trauma surgical team worked on him for six hours and managed to stop him from bleeding out on the table. He’s unconscious when we enter his room.

Machines beep, an IV line snakes up his arm. His torso is wrapped with thick layers in the center, where they had to open him up for surgery.

He looks peaceful, more than I’ve ever seen before. It makes me realize that Misha has been on alert for every second that I’ve known him.

Julian eases me into the chair beside the bed before taking the one on the other side. We don’t speak for several moments, both of us simply looking at the man who took a bullet for me.

“I owe him everything.”

“We both do,” Julian says. “He’s going to be insufferable when he finds out. He never lets me forget how many times he and Ethan have saved my life.”

“After what he’s been through, I think he’s earned it. That and a long vacation.”

“That’ll be a hard sell,” Julian says. “He’ll want to get back to work the minute he wakes up.”

I reach out and take Misha’s hand. It’s warm. I squeeze it gently, hoping that somehow, he knows that Julian and I are here for him.

Julian’s quiet for a long time. When he finally speaks, there’s a vulnerable tenderness in his eyes.

“Lyra.”

“Yeah?”

He takes a deep, slow breath. “There’s… I need to tell you something. And I need you not to interrupt me while I do it, because I’ve been trying to tell you this for weeks, but every time I try, the words go in a different direction. I can’t explain it.”

I look into those gunmetal grays, damp with tears. He’s making no effort to hide the emotion.

“I love you,” he says.

The words land so gently and perfectly that for a second, I think I may have imagined them.

I don’t speak, don’t interrupt as he requested. I know he’s not done.

“I love you,” he says again. “I’ve loved you since I saw you at the gala. I’ve loved you since I stood with you in that New Orleans graveyard. I’ve loved you since you threw a seating chart in front of me and thwarted an assassination plot at a fundraiser. I should’ve said I love you a thousand times by now. But I haven’t because I was so busy convincing myself that I didn’t deserve to.”

I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up his hand.

“Let me finish. Please.”

I snap it shut, unable to suppress the smile that forms.

“I’m sorry it took all of this, a car accident, a kidnapping, and…. I’m sorry I made you wait so long. I should’ve told you in New Orleans, when we stood together in your kitchen and waited for the coffee to brew. Or in my penthouse the first night you stayed. You deserved to hear it so many more times before now, and I’m going to spend the rest of our lives making up for each and every moment.”

And just like that, I’m crying again. But they’re happy tears this time, streaming gently down my face.

“I love you, Lyra. I love our baby. I love both of you with every ounce of me. And I will protect both of you until the day I die.”

“Julian.”

“Yes.”