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A man could die happy being on the other end of a look like that.
She portrayed an ice queen facade that exuded fake confidence. A fear that she instilled in others, that she had no idea how to back up. She was all bark, no bite. Her entire existence had been carved out in survival mode. And it had left her broken.
he looked at her and saw to the heart of her.
Mikhail didn’t even think as he ran to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling him to his side to support her.
“You are not like the other Romanovs, Anastasia.”
“Your worth isn’t defined by what you can do for others, either. You are not a weapon or a tool. You want to help. So we will. We’ll help everyone. We can’t do it all today.”
“I promise. You’ve seen my scars, Anya… why won’t you let me see yours?”
“Does it feel this good when you do it, Anya?”
“You want to keep your distance,” he sneered, arching a brow. “And if I fuck you, Anastasia,” the words sent a shiver up Anastasia’s spine, “I won’t be able to stay away.”
“You’re so beautiful when you respond to me, Anya.”
“I’ll kill them all with you if you asked me to…,” he leaned down and kissed her shoulder, “I know you. You’re better than them. You’ll regret this.”
“I have an awful feeling that I would give you every night of my life.”
“And I’m in love with a woman! Tell me, moi Tsar, which one of these do you think has inspired more passion in a man?”
“Not bad… for a priest,”
“That was a bit cliché.” “You love it.” “Do I?” “I know something you do love —“
She’s magnificent when she’s burning.
Anastasia laughed — she laughed — and Mikhail rejoiced at the sound.
