It begins with us.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ava’s POV

I had developed a serious case of insomnia in the last twelve hours, my body was unable to relax as my muscles tensed under the weight of not knowing, my eyes unwilling to chase the much-needed sleep they so desperately craved that it felt like sand had imbedded itself under my eyelids, the raw grainy feeling harsh as I blinked sleep away. I felt the first effects of a headache forming behind my eyes as I closed them, resting my back against the plush pillows that were placed on top of Yaakov’s bed. His scent was everywhere in the room, on his sheets, embedded in the soft fabric of the pillowcases and drifted through the air as I breathed in deeply. It was four in the morning, and he was still not home, which had my mind and heart reeling with worry that I was sure I would throw up at any minute. I knew Yaakov was strong and deadly, a man capable of crushing you under his designer shoe like a bug threatening to claw across his meal. But I still couldn’t stop worrying for the man I loved, needing nothing more than to have my eyes land on him, checking him from head to toe that he was ok. My stomach twisted at the thought of not telling him sooner, too caught up in everything that had happened since our time down by the beach. I knew I should have said it when those words left his mouth, should have screamed it from the top of my lungs till I wasn’t able to take my next breath, but I had just been so overwhelmed by the expression on his face and the look of utter devotion leaking from his eyes that the words caught in my throat. Not to mention the mind-blowing sex that had rendered me speechless and immobile for a good twenty minutes. What if something had happened, and he never knew how I truly felt? I licked my dry lips, shaking my head as I compelled the question from my mind. I couldn’t go down that line of thinking, I wouldn’t because our story was only beginning, and if anyone hurt or tried to take him away from me, I would gift them with the most cruellest death imaginable. I would kill for this man. Letting out a sharp breath, I heard heavy footsteps echoing from behind the bedroom door. My eyes widened as I rushed off the bed, my eager hand gripping the handle as I flung the door open. I felt all the tension that was gripping my body like tentacles release its hold on me, my heart began to beat in a rhythm that it knew well while my eyes roamed over Yaakov, who was standing in the doorway with his hands buried deep inside the pockets of his black cargo pants. A cocky smirk was plastered on his face as he stared down at me, and I wanted nothing more than to slap it off of him. My breathing picked up at the sight of dried blood covering his handsome face and down his neck, knowing it was probably on his closes too, but because he was dressed in all black that I couldn’t tell. I fisted his shirt and pulled him into the room, slamming the door shut as I spun on my heels to face him.

“No phone call? No, ′Hi Ava baby, I am alive and on my way home.′ I growl out, mimicking his heavy accented voice while placing my hands on my hips. He barked out a laugh while his head bowed back, his shoulders vibrating as his body shook with force. My mouth flew open as my head jerked back, feeling as though his laughter had slapped me clean across the face. My hands dropped from my hips, laying limp by my sides as hot tears began to gather in my eyes. The overwhelming feeling of not knowing if he was hurt had hit me like an out-of-control truck, speeding down the highway without the use of its brakes to soften the blow of its impact. My body began to tremble while my tears fell down my flushed cheeks, and the knot inside my chest tightened as I fought to breathe. He was safe, he was here in front of me so I shouldn’t be crying, but the force of never seeing him again had knocked me about, and I could no longer hold it all in. I closed my eyes at the exact moment his arms pulled me into him, crushing me to his hard chest as my head buried itself in my hands.

“I am ok baby... I am so sorry for making you worry the way I did.”

He whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking while his lips kissed the top of my head over and over again. My fingers gripped his shirt as I looked up at him through tears and wet eyelashes. I let my eyes roam over his beautiful, bloodstained face as we continued to hold each other, seeing his tired eyes looking down at me. I reached up and brushed my fingers over his forehead and down one side of his face, feeling for any wounds that might be hidden behind the red stains. His skin felt cold, and the dry blood made it impossible for me to check him properly. I pulled out of his embrace.