Chapter 49: Chapter Fourty Nine.

*Can this man stop staring at me before I shove this fork into his eye socket and yank out his eyeballs?* Xena grumbled in her head, stabbing her fork into a piece of scrambled egg with more aggression than necessary.

The tension was suffocating, his piercing gaze burning into the side of her face like a laser. She could feel it without even looking up—Viktor, the living, breathing embodiment of arrogance and control, sitting across from her at the grand dining table, his breakfast untouched as if watching her was far more satisfying.

She focused on her plate, chewing mechanically, determined to ignore him. But then she felt it—a warm hand, creeping beneath the table, fingertips brushing softly against her thigh.

She gasped, her fork nearly slipping from her grasp. Her head snapped up, and there he was, smirking like the devil himself, his attention casually shifting back to his plate as if nothing had happened.

He took a bite of his toast with infuriating calmness, his smugness radiating off him in waves.

Xena glared, her jaw tightening. “*Crazy man.*” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for herself to hear, though she wouldn’t be surprised if Viktor caught it. His hearing was annoyingly sharp.

She forced herself to focus back on her food, stabbing at her toast like it had personally offended her.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t push away the conversation she’d had with Zoya and Alina earlier. Their words echoed in her mind, unraveling threads of curiosity she’d tightly wound around herself. *Viktor saved me,* Alina had said. *That’s not how we see him,* Zoya had added.

Who really *was* Viktor?

She’d never cared to ask before. She’d never wanted to. Why would she? He was the man who’d pulled her into his world like she was nothing more than a possession. Her only plan had been to survive—and if the chance ever came, to escape. But now… there was a crack in that plan. A tiny, annoying crack where curiosity had slipped in.

*Why do they speak of him like he’s some kind of savior?* She sighed heavily, the food tasting bland despite its richness. She finished the last bite quickly, eager to be anywhere but here. Maybe she could find Zoya and Alina again, pry deeper into the stories they didn’t finish.

“You need to eat more, *printsessa.*” Viktor’s smooth, accented voice pulled her from her thoughts. His tone was soft, but there was an edge beneath it—like he wasn’t just offering advice but issuing a command. “What are you thinking about?”

*How to run away from you!* her mind screamed. But her lips remained sealed. She simply ignored him, grabbing her napkin and dabbing the corners of her mouth, pretending he wasn’t sitting there, breathing down her sanity.

Viktor’s fist clenched subtly on the table, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He hated being ignored—it was written all over him like one of his many tattoos. But Xena didn’t care. Not today.

After breakfast, she stood abruptly, pushing the chair back with a soft scrape against the polished floor.

“Excuse me.” she said curtly, not bothering to meet his gaze. She turned to leave, hoping to retreat into the sanctuary of the library, her mind craving the escape of dusty pages and the comforting silence of forgotten books.

But Viktor was faster.

Before she could take another step, he was on his feet, blocking her path with that infuriatingly calm expression.

His towering figure loomed over her, casting a shadow that felt heavier than it should. His presence was magnetic, pulling her in even when all she wanted was to push him away.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked softly, but there was steel in his voice, an unspoken command layered beneath the words.

Xena’s eyes narrowed, her frustration boiling over. “Does it matter? Or do I need your permission to breathe too?” she snapped.

His lips twitched, not quite a smile but close—a dangerous, wolfish curve. “I like knowing where you are.”

“Well, I like *not* having a stalker, but here we are.” she shot back, her heart racing from both anger and the magnetic pull he always seemed to have over her.

Viktor’s hand shot out, fingers curling gently around her wrist—not tight, not rough, but firm enough to make her heart skip. “Careful, *printsessa.* You’re playing with fire.”

Xena yanked her hand free, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Maybe I like the burn.”

And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed off, her heart pounding as hard as her footsteps echoed down the hall.

But even as she left him standing there, she could feel his gaze on her back—burning, possessive, and impossible to ignore.

♧♧♧

Xena walked into the library. The quiet sanctuary of books, with its towering shelves and soft golden glow from the morning sun streaming through the tall windows, was the only place where she felt she could breathe.

She needed distance—space from Viktor, from his suffocating presence, from the way his gaze made her skin feel like it was on fire.

She ran her fingers through her hair, pacing for a moment before slumping into one of the chairs. But before she could even gather her thoughts, the door creaked open behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. His presence was unmistakable, thick like smoke in the air.

“Why can’t you just—” she began sharply, spinning around to face him. But the words died on her lips as Viktor closed the distance between them in a heartbeat.

Before she could process what was happening, his hand shot out, firm and unrelenting, gripping the back of her neck. The heat of his palm sent a jolt through her, and then his lips crashed onto hers with a force that stole the breath from her lungs.

It was wild. Raw.

At first, her body reacted out of instinct-betraying her mind's resistance. She kissed him back, drawn into the fierce pull of his dominance. His mouth was demanding, hungry, his kiss bruising and possessive, as though he wanted to claim every part of her soul.

His hands roamed without hesitation, igniting a fire beneath her skin, tracing paths that made her shiver and burn all at once.

Xena hated the way her body responded, the way her defenses melted like snow under the blaze of his touch, She despised how easily he unraveled her, how his fingers left trails of heat along her waist, her thighs-her breath hitching with every stolen second.

Viktor growled low in his throat, a primal sound that vibrated against her lips. Without warning, he gripped her hips and lifted her effortlessly, setting her down on the grand oak table with a thud that echoed through the empty library.

The coolness of the polished wood against her heated skin made her gasp-a soft, involuntary sound that slipped past her lips.

That sound snapped something inside him.

His eyes darkened, and a wicked smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. His hands slid up her thighs, rough and greedy, until they found the delicate lace of her lingerie, His fingers brushed over her soaked underwear, and his grin grew more feral, more dangerous.

"Your pussy's screaming to get fucked." he rasped, his voice a low, guttural whisper that sent shivers down her spine.

His fingers found her clit, teasing and circling with maddening precision, drawing out moans she couldn't suppress no matter how hard she tried.

Her head fell back slightly, her body arching into his touch, betraying every ounce of restraint she thought she had. The roughness of his grip, the way his fingers moved with both dominance and skill-it was overwhelming.

Viktor's lips found the sensitive skin of her neck, biting just enough to leave a mark, claiming her in a way words never could. His other hand gripped her thigh tighter, grounding her while his fingers worked her closer to the edge.

She hated how much she craved it, Hated how much she wanted more.

But she couldn't stop it.

And honestly, she didn't want to.

Viktor's fingers moved with maddening precision, his touch both rough and calculated, drawing out soft, breathless moans from Xena's parted lips. Her fingers gripped the edge of the oak table, knuckles white, as if anchoring herself to reality, fighting the overwhelming tide of sensation he was drowning her in.

Her breathing grew ragged, chest rising and falling in quick succession as heat coiled low in her belly.

She hated how easily he unraveled her, how her body betrayed her with every shudder, every gasp that slipped past her lips. But Viktor? He reveled in it-each reaction like fuel to the wildfire raging inside him.

His lips trailed along her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just below her ear, his breath hot against her flushed skin.

His free hand slid up, cupping her jaw, tilting her face slightly so he could watch her-really see her-the way her lashes fluttered, her mouth slightly agape, and the raw vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.

But then, just as the tension threatened to snap, he stopped.

Viktor pulled back suddenly, leaving her trembling and breathless, His fingers slid away slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the feel of her one last time.

The absence of his touch was like a shock to her system, her body aching from the withdrawal.

He stepped back, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, and then that damn smirk spread across his face-cocky, knowing, dark with satisfaction.

His piercing gaze locked onto hers, sharp and intense, drinking in the sight of her-disheveled, flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses, her eyes heavy with lust.

Xena's heart raced, her body still humming with unfulfilled need, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her undone. Not completely. She straightened herself, her spine rigid with defiance, and masked the raw desire in her eyes with a sharp glare.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw clenched as if she could will away the heat that still lingered on her skin.

Viktor chuckled softly, dark and low, clearly amused by her attempt to regain control. His eyes glinted with mischief, that smug grin never faltering.

Then he leaned in, his face inches from hers, his breath still warm against her cheek.

"I have a surprise for you." he whispered, his voice Smooth and sinful, sending another shiver down her spine.

And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving her perched on the edge of the table, breathless and burning, her heart pounding with a mixture of rage, desire, and something she refused to name.