A beautiful story of Natasha and David.
Where they become Enemies-to-Lovers... from hating each other to the core.. to loving each other and protecting from their past...
What do you think will they become one?
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Ash...
A silent, sacred vow wrapped in the warmth of his lips and the tenderness of his touch. One that said, I'm not leaving. Not now, not ever.
But deep within me, behind the fluttering heartbeat and the tingling skin, was a storm. Because Victor Parker didn't know everything. And if he did... He might never look at me the same way again.
I pulled back, just slightly, letting my forehead rest against his. My fingers, still threaded in his hair, trembled. His eyes were half-lidded, heavy with affection, his breath brushing across my skin in soft waves.
"Victor..." I whispered, trying to speak but not knowing where to begin. How do you confess that your past isn't just broken—it's dangerous? That your scars aren't just emotional—they're stained with things you've done... things no one should ever forgive?
He smiled faintly, brushing his thumb over my cheek again like it was instinct. "Hmm?"
I swallowed hard. "I—" But the words died on my tongue.
Because how could I tell him I wasn't the person he thought I was? That everything I showed was only a version of me that was easy to love. That the girl in his arms wasn't just broken. She was lethal.
"I'm scared," I said instead, barely audible. "Not of you... but of what happens when you know everything."
Victor's gaze didn't waver. His eyes searched mine like he was trying to read a language only I knew.
"You don't have to be scared," he murmured. "I don't need perfect. I don't need clean. I just need you."
God, why did his words make it harder to breathe?
"Victor," I said, my voice tighter this time. "There are things I can't tell you. Things I have to keep buried... for your own good."
He was quiet for a moment, and I saw the flicker in his eyes—concern, confusion, maybe even a hint of fear. But it disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
"I don't care what you've done, Cathrin," he said firmly. "You're not your past. You're not your pain. You are the woman standing right here in front of me, and I..." He paused, exhaling slowly. "I love that woman. I love you. And nothing you say will change that."
I looked at him, my chest squeezing so tight it felt like it might split open. He said that now. But would he still say it when the truth wasn't pretty words and half-hinted sadness, but blood and fire and things no lover should hear?
Still... his eyes didn't lie.
He meant it.
So I did what I always did—I smiled.
A tired, aching, half-fragile smile that held too many secrets.
"Then kiss me again, Victor," I whispered, brushing my nose against his. "Kiss me like you can protect me from my own demons."
He did.
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