My Katarina

Catherine’s POV

I did not have time to understand what Ethan was doing.

The knock had barely faded when he pulled away from me, his body leaving my own in a rush of lost warmth. My legs almost buckled, but his hand closed around my wrist again and he dragged me across the cabin before I could catch my breath. 

Suddenly my back met solid wood. The impact pushed the breath out of my lungs as he pressed me flush against the cabin door. One of his hands stayed wrapped around my wrist, pinning it beside my head, while the other flattened against my hip, holding me in place. His body caged mine there, heat and weight and the faint scrape of his shirt against my front.

On the other side, Simon’s voice came again, closer, irritated. “Ethan. I know you are in there. Open the door.”

"What do you need... brother?"  Ethan asked, his gaze fixed on mine.

"Just open the fucking door!"

My eyes went wide. If he had not been holding me against the door, I was sure my knees would have given out. What in the Goddess's name was he trying to do?

Ethan bent his head, his lips close enough to brush my cheek. “Do you want me to open it?” he whispered, his voice so low that I felt it more in his chest than in the air.

I shook my head hard, fighting the urge to clamp my free hand over my mouth.

A corner of his mouth twitched, as if that answer entertained him more than it should. “Too bad,” he murmured.

Before I could understand what he meant, the hand on my hip slid away. He kept my wrist pinned where it was, his body still between me and the room, and with his other hand he worked the latch near my head.

The door jerked under my spine as it opened inward. For one wild second it felt like I would tip forward with it, but Ethan shifted, stepping just enough to brace me with his chest while the door swung open beside us.

Cold air rushed in, carrying rain and the sharp scent of Simon’s anger. From where I stood, pressed between wood and muscle, I could only see the edge of his shoulder through the narrow slice of space. Ethan blocked the rest.

“What do you want?” Ethan asked. 

Simon’s scent hit me next, familiar and sour tonight, threaded with whiskey and frustration. “You went to the mansion,” he said. It was not a question, but he still waited, like he needed to hear Ethan admit it.

“Of course I did,” Ethan replied. “It is still our parents’ mansion, unless something changed while I was gone.”

Simon let out a short, annoyed breath. “Did you see anyone suspicious?” he asked. “Any unfamiliar scent near the balcony?”

On my side of the door, my heart hammered faster. I was certain Ethan could hear it, feel it, count every single beat against his chest. The real fear coiled low in my stomach came from the thought that Simon might hear it too. 

I glared up at him. Menace, I thought, cursing him silently. This is the man everyone warns people about.

Ethan then made a thoughtful sound, as if he was actually considering the question. “Suspicious?” he repeated. “Nothing that is any of your concern.”

On the other side, Simon’s temper spiked, his tone sharpening. “Let me in,” he said. “We can talk properly inside.”

I felt Ethan’s chest expand against mine with a slow inhale. He did not step back. Instead, his fingers tightened just a little around my wrist, a reminder that I was staying exactly where he wanted me while he answered.

“Are you sure you want to come in, brother?” he asked, a faint sneer slipping into the word. “You might disturb my fun.”

Heat shot straight to my face. If I could have kicked him without alerting Simon, I would have.

It was no secret that Ethan’s reputation with women was as dangerous as his reputation with enemies. People whispered about the cabin more than they whispered about the mansion. They said he brought women here when he was bored, that he did not like to be watched, and that none of those women walked out the front door afterward.

Some claimed they were sent away before dawn. Others swore they were never seen again. The kinder version called him a thrill-seeker. The worse one called him something else entirely, a bloodthirsty maniac who treated people the same way he treated prey.

Outside, Simon hesitated. I could not see his expression, but I could imagine it. Ethan had always been suspiscious and calculating. The idea of playing second to Ethan’s “fun”, must have bruised his pride.

A long breath left him, heavy enough that I heard it over the rain. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll see you at the council meeting tomorrow.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned away. His footsteps retreated down the steps, then faded under the storm, swallowed by thunder and wind.

Only when the last echo of his scent drifted away did Ethan move. The door swung shut again with a solid thud, cutting off the cold air. His hand finally released my wrist.

The moment the pressure left, my knees wobbled. The room tilted for a second as the fear and tension that had kept me upright drained out of my legs before I managed to calm myself down.

“You’re crazy, “ I said, glaring at him. “If he recognized my scent– “

“That offends me, Katarina,” he said.

The name hit my ears wrong. “Catherine,” I snapped. “My name is Catherine.” No one calls me Katarina anymore.

He only chuckled, as if that correction amused him far more than it should. Then he started to walk toward me again. This time, I refused to move. The floor stayed under my heels. If I backed away now, I might as well admit I would keep doing it for the rest of my life.

He stopped in front of me, close enough that I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Up close, the difference in our height pressed in on me more than the walls did. 

“Fiery,” he said, voice low. “I quite like it. It makes me want to fuck you so hard until you beg me to call you… my Katarina.”

The words slipped over my skin like a brand.

Every nerve in my body reacted at once. Heat shot straight to my face, then lower, in a way that made me furious with myself. My jaw clenched. I hated how my pulse jumped at the sound of his voice dropping that low, hated the way my body registered the threat and twisted it into something else.

He saw it. Of course he did. His eyes flicked to my mouth, then back up, and his smirk widened.

“What is it?” he asked. “Do not tell me that after everything you heard tonight, you are still loyal to that foolish brother of mine?”

The reminder hit like another crack of lightning.

My stomach tightened. Whatever warmth had pooled under my skin iced over, then heated again for entirely new reasons. Shame and rage and... humiliation filled my senses. All of it tangled together until I could not tell where one ended and the other started.

Ethan watched every flicker of emotion move across my face. “I did not know the future Luna of Stormhowl was this stupid,” he added.

Something in me snapped at that.

I was not stupid. I was not blind. I was not some naive girl grateful for scraps of attention from a man who had just admitted I was nothing but a convenient placeholder.

I was Catherine Morland, only daughter and heiress of the richest pack in Solaria, the one every allied Alpha pretended to respect when they sat around my father’s table.

I had let myself shrink to fit Simon’s version of a good Luna. I had let myself forget who I was before his ring slid onto my finger.

"What do you want?"  I asked yet a part of me already knew the answer to that question.

My chin lifted as if I was challenging him, but my eyes betrayed me when they dropped briefly to Ethan’s mouth. The shape of his lips, the way they curved in that infuriating smirk, dragged a warm pulse straight through my chest.

When I forced my gaze back up, his silver-gray eyes were already waiting, sharper, amused, and entirely too focused on me. “Come on,” he murmured, voice dropping. “You already know what I want… my Katarina.”

My spine straightened.  Before I could talk myself out of it, my hand moved. 

I hooked my fingers around his nape and pulled him down, smashing his lips against mine.

And he… he welcomed it with glee.

“There she is,” he murmured against my mouth. “That’s more like it.”