It was mid afternoon by the time they reached his cabin, silent as they duplicated the process of leaving the truck and navigating the woods hand in hand.

The first thing Kitty did was change, stripping clear of her ruined pants and shirt, tainted with Stryker's facility. She rustled through the bag of clothing Victor had purchased two days before, finding a fresh pair of pants and a t-shirt. He was stoking a fire in the living room, expression unreadable.

"It's been a long day," she hedged, standing just outside her bedroom door.

"Where do you think you're sleeping tonight."

She wet her lips, offering no reply. He turned to face her, black eyes holding her hostage, demanding an answer.

"Victor."

He said nothing, watching her, waiting.

"I don't know," she finally said, the line of her shoulders depressing. "I don't know."

"I do."

He reached for her, fingers phasing through her waist, he growled in protest.

"What do you want from me."

He stared down at her, repeating softly, "What do I want from you?"

"Yes."

"I don't know how else to say it," he said. "You're my mate."

"What does that mean."

"You're mine."

She phased through him, walking into the living room, pacing briefly before turning back to face him, "What about me."

"What about you, Katherine."

"What I want."

"What do you want," he said, a muscle in his jaw springing to life.

"I want a say in this."

"Mates are mates."

"No," she said, hand slicing the air, cutting him off, denying his simplification. "That's not good enough."

"You weren't arguing eight hours ago when I had my tongue halfway down your throat," Victor growled in return, hands to fists at his sides.

"I needed time to think," she snapped, hands on either hip, cheeks tinging pink.

"Changing your mind doesn't mean a damn thing," he said. "Mates-"

"Don't say it again," she cut him off, voice rising. "Don't."

He studied her for a moment, the scent of her fear spicing the air.

"You're frightened."

"I barely know you."

"What do you want to know."

She released a heavy breath, eyes tipped to the ceiling for a moment, and then back to him, "Why me."

"You think I chose you?" His brow lifted, swallowing a grin.

Her hands found her hips, "Why wouldn't you."

He let out a laugh, scraping his fingers along his scalp, "You're an x-man, and you're a fucking handful."

"I'm flattered."

"You could kick my ass."

"I have."

He smirked.

"If you didn't choose me-"

"Mates aren't a choice."

Her shoulders stiffened at this, discomfort rising at the thought of her agency threatened, or worse, conquered.

"It's instinct," he said. "It's about knowing what's yours."

The marks on her neck burned.

"I didn't chose you, baby, because if I had a choice I'd leave you alone."

His admission stung.

"You're smart, and you're loyal," he looked at her, seeing parts of her she wasn't aware she'd shown him. "You've spent your whole life using your mutation to make you better, to make the world better."

She waited, breath held tight between her lungs.

"You're one hell of a woman, Katherine," he was shaking his head. "I don't deserve you."

"You don't have me," she said quietly.

He closed the distance between them, she fought the urge to phase. The pad of his thumb traced her neck, tipping her head, revealing his marks.

"You haven't run away from me yet."

"We're in the middle of nowhere," she replied quietly, indigo eyes on the windows, the black forest outside. "Where would I go."

"You're free now," he said, fingers circling her wrist.

"From the cuff, yes."

His brow lifted, "What's holding you here."

"At the moment," she shifted under his palms. "You."

"I'm serious."

"So am I," she replied. He stared down at her, gauging her sincerity, before he could overthink it she continued, "I want to know what you're not telling me."

He released her as though burned, brow starting to furrow, "What are you talking about."

"Our agreement," she said.

"What about it."

"You said you'd tell me everything, and then you'd have me."

"Anxious to be in my bed, little kitten."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm anxious to know what you're keeping from me."

Victor's expression dissolved into something she couldn't put a name to, "I've told you everything you need to know."

"I don't believe you."

His brow lifted.

"You know more about Stryker, more about what he's doing, than you're telling me."

He leaned a fraction closer, "Prove it."

Kitty's eyes narrowed, he was immediately sorry he'd baited her.

"I don't need to," she replied, feline in her confidence, assessing him coolly. "The fact that you haven't fucked me against every wall in this house is proof enough."

She turned away from him, the door to her bedroom snapping shut at her back before he could utter another word. Victor shoved both hands through his short hair, releasing a growl of frustration.