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This area houses the guards and me—our sanctuary from the chaos of our world. No guards patrol here. No cameras watch. Even Alexi's surveillance ends at the threshold.

Katarina's grip tightens as we pass ornate wooden doors. I sense her cataloging everything—the rich carpets, the old-world architecture, the silence broken only by our footsteps. Her analytical mind never stops working.

The familiar weight of my key slides into the lock. I hesitate, hand on the handle. Am I really doing this? Breaking every protocol, every rule I've lived by?

Katarina's thumb strokes across my knuckles, gentle yet demanding. The touch sends fire racing up my arm.

Yes. Yes, I am.

I guide her inside, closing the door behind us with a soft click that echoes with finality.

13

KATARINA

Ienter Erik's room, my heart thundering against my ribs. The dim lighting casts shadows across his face, making his dark eyes even more intense. My skin tingles when his fingertips brush against my arm, guiding me toward his bed.

“Tell me what you want,” Erik's voice rumbles. “How do you need this?”

Heat floods my cheeks. The words stick in my throat, warring with my pride. I've never admitted this to anyone before. “I...” My voice wavers.

“Say it.” His command sends a shiver down my spine.

I close my eyes, unable to meet his gaze as I whisper the truth. “I like it when you're rough with me.” The admission burns on my tongue, shame, and desire tangling in my chest.

Erik's groan vibrates through me. His teeth graze my bottom lip before he captures it between them, the sharp pain mingling with pleasure as he sucks gently. My fingers curl into his shirt, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.

I'm losing myself in him. Every rational thought screams at me to stop, but my body betrays me, arching into his touch. The mighty Katarina Lebedev, brought low by an Ivanov's kiss. My father would kill us both if he knew.

Erik's hands tangle in my hair, angling my head back. His breath fans hot against my throat. “I'll give you exactly what you need.”

When his fingers find the hem of my shirt, his touch is both gentle and commanding. I shiver as the fabric skims over my head, leaving me bare before him. He reaches for the button on my pants, slowly sliding the zipper down. His eyes, dark and hooded, rake over me, taking in every inch of exposed skin.

My heart is hammering in my chest as he pushes me back onto the bed. I feel the cold metal of the handcuffs as he secures my wrists above my head. The steel bites into my skin, and I gasp from the rush of anticipation rather than discomfort. I'm utterly vulnerable, laid out like a sacrifice before him.

Erik retrieves a blindfold from his nightstand, pausing to meet my gaze. “Do you trust me?” he asks.

The answer should be hell no. A Lebedev can't trust an Ivanov. Especially not one who is holding her captive, and yet, I nod, my throat too tight for words. He secures the blindfold, plunging me into darkness. The loss of sight heightens my other senses, and I strain to hear his slightest movement.

The first strike of the flogger against my skin steals the oxygen from my lungs. The burn is a delicious sting that makes me arch my back, craving more. The next strikes come faster, with a rhythm that appears to sync with my heartbeat. My body sings with sensation, each lash awakening nerves I never knew existed.

I cry out, pleasure and pain mingling as the flogger kisses my skin. Erik's voice, low and rough, fills my ear. “You like that, don't you, Katarina?” he murmurs. “You like being mine, tied up and at my mercy.”

My head falls back against the pillow, and I moan my response, too lost in the sensations to form coherent words. I feel his fingers, calloused and sure, trailing over the tender skinhe's marked. He knows exactly how to play me, pushing me to the edge and pulling back, drawing out my torment deliciously.

The flogger falls away, and his mouth takes its place, lips and tongue soothing the burning paths he has carved into my body. I sigh, relaxing into the bed as his mouth devours me, claiming every inch of exposed skin. I'm boneless, pliant in his hands, and I know without seeing that he's smiling that wolfish smile.

Erik's mouth moves lower, and I know he can sense my pulse quickening. His tongue teases, tasting, tracing patterns over my oversensitive skin.

“Please,” I whisper, my voice hitching as his breath ghosts over me.

But he just chuckles, the vibrations resonating through me. “Please, what, Katarina?”

I feel him smirk against my skin, and I buck my hips against his mouth. “Please, Erik,” I beg. “Touch me.”

He chuckles again, the sound sending shivers up my spine. “Impatient?” His fingers glide over my thighs, avoiding the center of my need. “We have all night.”

“No,” I moan, writhing under his touch. “I can't take it...” My voice trails off as he finally, finally gives me what I crave.