9. Katarina
KATARINA
T he door clicks open, and Erik's broad frame fills the doorway. These past few days, his icy demeanor has matched the chill that creeps through the concrete walls. The warmth from our encounter feels like a distant dream.
“You have more freedom now.” His voice carries no emotion. “The compound is secure. You can move around, use the gym, library.”
I cross my arms, keeping my face neutral despite the flutter in my chest at the prospect of escape from these four walls. “Thank God. I was going insane, trapped in here with you.”
His jaw tightens. The slight tell makes satisfaction curl through me.
“There are still rules.” Erik's gaze pins me in place. “No phones. No computers. No contact with the outside. And you'll have an escort at all times.”
“As long as it's not you.” I meet his stare, letting my lip curl. “I'd rather deal with your brothers than spend another minute watching you brood.”
Something flashes in his dark eyes. His fingers flex at his sides before he forces them still.
“Viktor will show you around in an hour.” He turns to leave. “Try anything, and you'll be back in here.”
“Can't wait.” The sarcasm drips from my words.
The door closes behind him with a decisive click. I press my palm against my racing heart, trying to slow its erratic beat. Freedom, even limited, means opportunities. Chances to learn the layout, study their routines, and find weaknesses.
I just have to ignore how my body responds every time Erik enters the room. How his presence makes my skin prickle with awareness. He's the enemy. I can't forget that, no matter how much heat lingers in my memories.
Time to focus on what matters: getting out of here.
The hot water cascades over my shoulders as I close my eyes, letting it wash away days of confinement. My muscles ache for movement, for anything beyond pacing this small room. The thought of exploring the compound is exciting.
As I run the soap over my body, my fingers brush against the marks Erik left on my hips, and heat pools low at the memory of his rough hands gripping me, pinning me against that bathroom door. The ghost of his touch makes me shiver despite the steam filling the shower.
“Focus,” I mutter, turning the water temperature down. I need a clear head. This is my chance to map exits, study guard rotations, and identify any weaknesses in their security.
I step out and wrap a towel around myself, wiping condensation from the mirror. The reflection shows fading bruises on my neck where Erik's mouth claimed me. My thighs clench as I remember his tongue between them, his growled demands as he made me come again and again.
Dammit. I grab fresh clothes from the dresser they provided—fitted black pants and a long-sleeved shirt. As I dress, all I can think about is how Erik's eyes darkened when he saw me in those yoga pants. How his control finally snapped.
I drag a brush through my wet hair, forcing myself to concentrate on escape plans instead of the way his stubble scraped my inner thighs. The way his fingers dug into my flesh as he thrust into me. The pure animal need in his eyes when he finally let go.
“He's the enemy,” I remind myself firmly. My body doesn't seem to care about that distinction. It just remembers the pleasure and wants more of it.
I check my reflection one final time, straightening my shoulders. Time to focus on what matters—getting out of here. No matter how good Erik made me feel, freedom has to come first.
A sharp knock announces Viktor's arrival. Unlike Erik's looming presence, Viktor's weathered face holds a hint of warmth.
“Ready for the grand tour?” His lips quirk into a half-smile.
“Anything's better than staring at these walls or a stone-faced soldier.” I step into the hallway, noting the security cameras at each corner.
“Erik can be... intense.” Viktor leads me down a corridor lined with dark wood panels. “But he keeps everyone safe.”
I snort. “Is that what you call this?”
“This way to the kitchen.” He ignores my comment, but his eyes crinkle with understanding. “Full access whenever you're hungry. Living room's through there—TV, books, whatever you need.”
The kitchen gleams with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. A wall of windows reveals a dense forest that stretches to the horizon.
“Don't get ideas.” Viktor's voice turns firm. “We're miles from civilization. No roads, no neighbors. Even if you made it past security, the wilderness would kill you before help arrived.”
“Noted.” I trail my fingers along the cool counter.
The library surprises me—floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with everything from classics to technical manuals. “At least I won't die of boredom.”
“Gym's last stop.” Viktor pushes open double doors to reveal a fully equipped facility. “Treadmill, weights, whatever you need to stay active.”
“No chance of fresh air?”
He shakes his head. “Indoor track's the best I can offer. Sorry, but those are the rules.”
I appreciate his honesty, which contrasts with Erik's brooding intensity. Viktor treats me like a person, not a possession to control.
“Thanks for the tour.” I mean it, despite everything. “You're easier to deal with than your colleague.”
“Just doing my job.” But his smile reaches his eyes this time. “Remember the boundaries, and we'll get along fine.”
“Thank you, Viktor. Really.” I place my hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. After days of Erik's cold demeanor, Viktor's kindness feels like a lifeline.
A growl rips through the air—deep, feral, dangerous. Erik stands in the doorway, his massive frame vibrating with barely contained violence. His dark eyes lock onto where my hand touches Viktor's arm, and the murderous intent rolling off him makes my breath catch.
Viktor steps back, hands raised. “I'll leave you to settle in.” His voice stays steady, but he moves with deliberate care, like someone backing away from an angry bear.
I turn away from Erik's burning stare and head for the library. Before I take three steps, his hand clamps around my upper arm. The heat of his grip brands my skin through the thin fabric of my shirt.
My heart pounds against my ribs. The tension radiating from him feels different than his usual controlled anger. This is raw and something I've only glimpsed in our most heated moments.
“Let go.” I keep my voice low and steady.
His fingers tighten. “You're playing with fire.”
“It was nothing. Viktor was just being decent—something you should try sometime.”
The growl returns, rumbling through his chest. His other hand comes up to grip my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. The darkness I find there makes my knees weak.
I attempt to pull away, but Erik's grip remains firm. His lips brush against my ear, his hot breath sending tingles down my spine.
“You weren't complaining yesterday morning when my tongue made you fall apart,” he whispers, his voice rough. “The way you begged, the sounds you made...”
I clench my jaw, fighting the rush of heat his words trigger. “That was different.”
“Was it?” His fingers slide up to cradle my throat, not squeezing, just resting there. “You seemed to enjoy my treatment quite thoroughly. Or did you forget how many times you screamed my name?”
My face burns at the memory. “Let me go, Erik.”
“You didn't want me to let you go then.” His thumb traces my pulse point. “You wanted more. Demanded it.”
I close my eyes, trying to steady my racing heart. “That was a mistake.”
“Your body says otherwise.” His words ghost across my skin. “You're trembling right now, just thinking about it. About how good it felt when I made you?—”
“Enough.” I cut him off, but my voice shakes.
“You can play nice with Viktor all you want,” he continues, “but we both know whose touch you really crave.”
The worst part is that he's right. I feel myself getting wet, responding to his proximity, his words, and the memories he's evoking. Still, I won't give him the satisfaction of admitting it.
“Are you done?” I manage to keep my voice steady despite the heat coursing through me.
His low chuckle raises goosebumps on my arms. “For now.” He releases me and steps back. “Enjoy your freedom while it lasts.”
I watch Erik's broad back as he stalks away, his movements fluid and predatory. My fingers dig into my palms, nails biting crescents into the flesh. The ghost of his touch lingers on my throat, and I hate how my body still thrums with need.
Bastard. He thinks he can just manhandle me, remind me of our encounter, then walk away? The arrogance of it makes my blood boil.
I slam my fist against the wall, welcoming the sharp sting that helps clear my head. The concrete is cool against my forehead as I press against it, trying to slow my racing pulse.
“Breathe,” I whisper to myself. “Just breathe.”
But all I can think about is his rough voice in my ear, the heat of his body pressed against mine. The way his fingers traced my throat with just enough pressure to remind me of his strength. My thighs clench at the memory.
I push off the wall and pace the room, my steps quick and agitated. How dare he mark his territory like some animal? Viktor showed basic human decency, and Erik acted like I'd committed some cardinal sin.
The worst part isn't his possessiveness or his assumptions. It's that he's right—my body does crave his touch. Even now, anger warring with arousal, I want him to come back. Want him to finish what he started.
“Get it together, Katarina.” My voice sounds strained even to my own ears.
I need to focus on escape, on survival, on anything but the lingering heat between my legs and the way my skin still tingles where he touched me. But his words echo in my head, reminding me of yesterday morning, of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.
God, I hate him. Hate how he can read my body's responses like an open book. Hate how he can switch from ice-cold soldier to burning passion and back again, leaving me spinning in his wake.
Most of all, I hate that I want more.