She woke up in a hotel room, head aching. She squinted, vision slowly coming into focus. She recognized Victor across the room, the familiar slope of his shoulders, the cut of his jaw.
"Victor."
He grunted.
"Where are we."
"New York."
She shifted, testing the tightness of her restraints, wincing with the effort, "Please untie my hands."
"Not yet."
She stared at him, disbelieving this was the same man who had removed her from Shaw's hands, taking her to the Institute against his better judgement.
"Why would you do this," she asked quietly.
"It's a job."
Defeat colored the line of her shoulders, she lay back on the mattress, facing the opposite wall. She listened to his slow approach, remaining perfectly still, becoming accustomed to their new dynamic of predator and prey. The bed depressed with the weight of his hands, "I can smell you."
She stiffened, "Don't-"
"You want me."
She rolled over, arms twisted uncomfortably beneath her, repeating, "How could I want you, after-"
His mouth found the pulse point along her neck, incisors nipping sensitive skin. She struggled, heels kicked up against the sheets. He flipped her over, shredding the plastic restraints to pin her face up beneath him. His expression clouded, "You have my scent."
"You know me," she said, an attempt at reasoning. "We-"
"I'd remember fucking something as sweet as you," he said, voice rough with arousal.
"You told me you only wanted me willing."
He paused, black eyes narrowed on her face. She brought her hands slowly upward, fingertips pressed to the rough of his cheeks. He released a low growl, a warning she chose to ignore, repeating, "You know me."
He went perfectly still beneath her hands, suspended above her like a bad dream.
"Look at me," she commanded, refusing to cower. He stared down at her with bottomless black eyes, inhuman this close. "You saved me from Shaw, you took me home-"
She caught a flicker of recognition in his otherwise shuttered expression.
"When Remy LeBeau came for me, you were there to stop him," she pressed on, emboldened, hopeful. "I told you once before, but I'll tell you again, I'm safest when I'm with you."
He reached for her, fingers catching in her hair, tilting her head. She watched his mouth, lips upturned like an offering, "Victor-"
"I know you," he affirmed, grip tightening, molding her smaller body to his. "I've smelled you on my clothes, my car-"
She nodded, "Yes, I-"
"You're mine."
His teeth met the downy of her neck just below her ear, breaking skin. She cried out, palms braced to his shoulders, terrorized. When he lifted his head, his eyes had returned to normal, the fathomless black replaced with a burning she recognized. She touched the side of her neck, drawing blood, eyes widened at his attack.
"Katherine."
She opened her mouth, managing nothing more than an uneven breath. He looked like himself again, wholly human, or as human as he'd ever be, "What happened, where-"
He broke off, staring down at her, like a man seeing water for the first time, expression unknowable.
"I can't breathe," she said, beginning to sift through his arms, squirming for space. He stepped free of the bed, careful to keep her within arms reach, tracking her slow retreat with measured steps. She held up a hand, warding him off, "Stop-"
He gripped her cuffed wrist, "Where did this come from-"
"You did this," she snapped, yanking her arm free. His confusion was palpable, he considered her accusation. "You came back to the Institute-"
She broke off, choking on her disappointment.
"I came back for you," he said, brow knit, hard pressed to recount the two hours, no less the last twenty-four.
"To cuff me," she spat, lifting his glittering cuff between them. "And return me to Shaw."
"Why would-"
"I don't know," she snapped, cutting him off. "I've been asking you the same question, because I don't know."
He shook his head, pressing the heel of his hand to the center of his forehead, "I can't remember anything past meeting Shaw."
"What do you mean, you can't remember."
"Just what I said," he replied, voice tightening. "It's all black-"
"How could you-"
"I don't know, Katherine."
She kept pushing, incessant, "What did he do, why-"
"I don't know," Victor roared, cutting her off, confusion turning to fury. "I don't know."
He expected a quick retreat, tears, but she remained unmoved in the face of his fury. She lifted her hand, palm pressed to the center of his chest, "We'll find out," she said quietly, resolved. "Together."
He pulled her closer, one hand to the back of her head, waiting for his pulse to return to normal before asking, "How long was I gone."
"Forty-eight hours," she replied. "What's the last thing you remember."
"Shaw's club," he said, rubbing slow circles along her spine. "His office."
"And then," she said, chin tipped, meeting his gaze.
"Nothing," he replied, gruff, snagged between guilty and embarrassed. "It's like I've been asleep for two days straight."
"You barely knew me."
He studied her, tilting her chin to one side to study the marks on her neck, "I must have known you belonged to me."
She pressed free of his arms, uncertainty written in the line of her mouth.
"Mates, little kitten."
She stiffened, "What did you say."
"Mates," he repeated. "A feral only marks what's his."
She touched the side of her throat, wincing, "I'm not feral."
He smirked, "That's why you're the one with marks on your neck."
"Victor-"
"You want me, too."
"That's not what this is about."
"I didn't hear you arguing the night I brought you home to Xavier," he said, angling closer, refusing to be ignored. "When I had my tongue halfway down your throat and my hand on your pussy-"
She held up both hands, overwhelmed with the past six hours, disinterested in arguing, "Enough, please, my head is spinning."
He eased up, curbing the instinct to corner her and mark her all over again.
"We need to call Logan."
Victor's smile was wan, "I'm surprised he hasn't knocked down the door."
"He may very well be tracking us."
"How long have you been missing."
"You kidnapped me at six o'clock this morning," Kitty replied, deadpan.
He ignored the barb, "If he followed, he's at least two hours behind."
"I'll call."
She went in search of his cell phone, tucked in the front pocket of his duffel.
"You brought me back."
She paused in her searching, turning slowly to face him, waiting.
"Wherever I was," he shook his head. "It was your voice that brought me back."
"Anyone could-"
"No," he said, cutting her off. "Not anyone, you."
She was quiet for half a minute, finally, "You said you wouldn't leave me."
His expression was unreadable in the face of her disappointment, her exhaustion at the last twelve hours. She was sporting bruises on both arms, from his hand or LeBeau's, he wasn't willing to bet. Her curls were tangled nearly up to her shoulders, a wild halo to her drawn expression. Kidnapped and cuffed, she was as unstoppable as she'd ever been.
"No, Katherine," he shook his head, voice rough. "I told you I would always come back."