This.
All of this.
She was marking me. Claiming me. The soldier, the warrior, the woman who fought against everything, was finally, truly participating. She was leaving her own mark, her own brand, on my skin.
“Fuck, yes,” I growled. “That’s it. Mark me, baby. Make me yours.”
My hips started to move again. I was no longer just fucking her. I was rejoicing in her. Celebrating this wild, beautiful, ferocious woman that had just given me everything I could ever want and more.
I leaned down, my lips brushing her ear. “Did you think I’d be scared of a little scratch?” I teased. “I like that sort of thing.”
She tensed. She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected me to welcome it, to revel in it.
I drove into her, making her whole body shudder with desire. “But that’s not what this is, is it?” I continued, my voice dropping to a whisper. “This isn’t about pain. This is about making me yours, the same way I made you mine. Are you marking me as yours, my beautiful Katya?”
I could feel the fight draining out of her, the tension in her body slowly unwinding. Her hands, which had been claws against my back, relaxed, her palms flattening on my skin. She wasn’t fighting me anymore. She was touching me.I let her touch me. Let her explore. I kept my movementsslow and steady, each thrust casually taking every part of her and making her mine. The sting on my back was a dull throb now, a constant, grounding reminder of the ferocity of our connection, of the thin line between pleasure and pain we were dancing on.
“I’m going to come inside you again,” I murmured. “I’m going to mark you from the inside out, until you can’t think about anything else. Until all you can feel is me.”
I was claiming her soul, her mind, her heart.
Her hips began to move again, tentatively rocking to match my own rhythm. She was taking an active part now, not just a passive recipient of my desire.
It was the single hottest thing I’d ever experienced.
Then she surprised me again.
Her hands, which had been resting on my back, slid up, her fingers tangling in my hair. She pulled my head down, her lips finding mine in a desperate, hungry kiss.
I came undone.
I’d been the one in control. I’d been the one leading this dance, this assault on her senses, but in that moment, she took the lead. She became the aggressor. And it was the most goddamn intoxicating thing I’d ever felt.
Her kiss, her touch, her body moving in sync with mine, it was all too much.
“Ah, fucking hell,” I grunted against her lips. “Katya…”
My entire world came undone as pure pleasure exploded from the base of my spine, surging out of me and into her sweet, needy pussy, connecting us in the most intimate way possible.
She drained the life out of me, and I knew I would never be the same again.
CHAPTER 7
Present day
Katya
The safehouse sat on the outskirts of Dubai, tucked behind rows of half-constructed villas and palm trees planted too recently to look natural. At night, the place felt abandoned in that eerie way only new developments can—quiet, sand drifting across empty sidewalks, and the city skyline glittering far in the distance like a mirage.
The Dragunov brothers had shown me this place not long ago, back when we were still circling each other with the suspicion of our uneasy alliance. I remembered Mikhail calling it ‘a temporary fallback location,’ which—coming from him—meant it was basically a fortress disguised as an investment property no one asked questions about.
There was no way Revenant would know it existed.
That alone made it the safest place within a hundred kilometers.
I paced the length of the living room, checking the blinds, checking the locks, checking my pulse. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and I didn’t know if it was adrenaline, fear, or fury. Probably all three. The whole place smelled faintly of dust and leather, but the scent of my men was missing entirely.
I’d followed Andrei’s instructions exactly: get out, get clear, get here. He’d texted me not long after I had texted him.
