Shackled To The Enemy King

Chapter 209: Their Night...

The next day, Maximilian brought Catherine to the lab he had mentioned. She had assumed it would be somewhere in the city, perhaps tucked into a university or hidden behind some unremarkable corporate building.

But this...

The car wound its way down another narrow path along the mountain, one that looked almost abandoned, before stopping in front of what appeared to be nothing more than a reinforced service structure. It was only when the concealed entrance shifted open that Catherine realized just how deceptive the place was.

Inside, it was an entirely different world.

Layers of security. Steel. Depth. The kind of construction that didn’t just suggest secrecy, but demanded it.

"A bunker?" she asked, looking around, her voice laced with disbelief and a hint of amusement. "This could probably survive a nuclear attack... and maybe even an alien invasion."

Maximilian’s lips curved as he leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "These mountains hold more secrets than you’d think, Catherine."

She laughed softly, but the sound faded as her eyes lingered on him. There was something about the way he said it, something knowing, something that made her heart stir.

This man... spent his entire lifetime preparing everything for her. And she was sure this place, which was filled with outdated equipment, which was enough for her, was a remnant of a bygone era.

And yet, he found it... for her. He just... gives her everything she wanted and needed. freēwebnovel.com

Without thinking, she stepped closer and pressed a kiss to his lips. freewebnøvel.coɱ

He didn’t hesitate.

His hand came to her waist, firm and sure, lifting her effortlessly until she was at his level. The kiss deepened, warmer, fuller, as though the quiet isolation of the place wrapped around them and pulled them closer. Her back met the cool wall, his presence closing in, and she let herself melt into it, into him, her arms sliding around his shoulders as the world narrowed to nothing but the two of them.

When he finally broke the kiss, his forehead resting lightly against hers, both of them catching their breath, Catherine let out a soft, breathless giggle.

"Do you remember that time we kissed in your office," she murmured, her voice still light, "and got interrupted by Sebastian?"

A flicker of something playful passed through his eyes, the blue touched faintly with violet as he looked at her. Warm. Steady. Unchanging.

"You hated me then," he said.

Catherine studied his face, searching without realizing she was searching for hurt, for doubt, for anything that might linger from those days. But there was nothing there. No shadow of it. Just quiet certainty.

It unsettled her in the gentlest way.

How could he trust her like this? How could he love her so completely, when she still felt like she was catching up to him, always a step behind?

Her hand rose to his face, cupping his cheek as she tilted her head slightly, her gaze softening.

"I don’t now," she said.

It wasn’t a grand confession. It wasn’t everything she felt. But it was honest.

And before the silence could stretch, she kissed him again—soft this time, lingering, as if trying to say all the things she didn’t yet know how to put into words.

For now, this was enough.

Holding him. Choosing him. Again and again.

-----

A week passed in a blur of sleepless nights and relentless focus. Catherine barely noticed time slipping by, the absence of sunlight in the bunker making every hour feel the same. She lived between notes, formulas, and quiet breakthroughs, her world narrowing to the scratch of pen against paper.

Maximilian moved within that world as if he had always belonged there.

On the first night, she had fallen asleep at the desk, her head resting over scattered papers. When she woke, she had been in bed, curled against him, her cheek pressed to his chest, his arm wrapped around her as if it had been the most natural thing in the world. That warmth... that quiet safety... it had stayed with her.

And it became a pattern.

No matter how late she worked, no matter where she collapsed, she always woke up the same way—held, grounded, cared for.

Her phone had long been forgotten somewhere in the chaos. She didn’t miss it. Not this time. Her family understood how she turned once she started her research and no one bothered her. For other matters, she had Maximilian to answer her calls.

Every calculation, every adjustment, she wrote down by hand, careful, deliberate. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. Not when she had already learned how easily effort could be twisted, stolen, turned into something ugly.

Fool me twice...

That wasn’t going to happen again.

"Finally!" Catherine stretched, her muscles protesting as she leaned back from the desk. A small, satisfied smile tugged at her lips. Another step forward. Another piece in place.

Only then did she notice him.

Maximilian was leaning against the bed, fast asleep, his head tilted slightly to the side. The warm glow of the lab lights softened his features, casting gentle shadows that made him look almost unreal—like something painted rather than real.

For a moment, she just stood there, watching him.

Then she smiled.

My man!

Her tiredness flew away seeing him like that. Quietly, she walked over and slipped her arm around his waist, settling against him. The moment she touched him, he drew in a slow breath, his hand instinctively coming to rest at her back, holding her close even before he fully woke.

Only after that did his eyes open.

And there she was—Catherine, looking at him with that playful, expectant expression, her lips slightly puckered.

"Finished for today?" he asked, his voice still rough with sleep, but lighter than it had any right to be.

"Finished enough to go home," she said, winking.

His brows lifted, a flicker of something bright passing through his eyes.

Tonight was theirs.

She leaned in again, silently asking, and he couldn’t help but laugh under his breath before pulling her down gently, turning her beneath him. The kiss that followed wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t careless. It was warm, familiar, deepened by the quiet understanding that had grown between them over the past week.

It carried relief, pride, and something softer—something that had settled into them without either of them noticing.

Her fingers curled into his shirt as she leaned into him, her breath hitching slightly as he drew closer, his presence surrounding her in a way that felt both grounding and overwhelming.

Slowly, their clothes slipped away, forgotten in the quiet warmth of the room, as if nothing else in the world held meaning in that moment. His lips trailed downward, unhurried, reverent, as though he was relearning her all over again as he kissed her soft mounds.

Catherine’s breath hitched softly, her back arching instinctively as she drew him closer, her fingers tightening against him, needing him nearer, needing to feel that he was real and there with her. A faint shiver ran through her, her toes curling as warmth spread through her...

And then... the phone rang.

Catherine’s fingers dug into his back, holding him there as if letting him go—even for a second—would shatter the fragile, burning moment between them. The call faded unanswered, and their lips found each other again, deeper this time, more desperate, as though they were both aware of how close they stood to losing themselves entirely.

Maximilian’s hand trailed slowly over her shoulder, down the length of her arm, until his fingers intertwined with hers and guided them above her head, holding them there with a quiet firmness that made her breath hitch.

The phone rang again.

"No..." she whispered against his ear, her voice soft but insistent, her breath warm against his skin, her entire body leaning into him with a need she could no longer hide, her fingers tracing the hard muscles underneath his warm skin.

The call stopped.

And then... it rang again.

Maximilian exhaled sharply, the sound heavy with restraint as he reached for her phone, glancing at the screen. "It’s Samantha," he said, his voice lower now, edged with reluctance.

Catherine barely looked. She pulled him back down, her fingers curling into him as if she could anchor him there. "Put it on silent," she murmured, pressing her lips to his again, unwilling to let anything come between them.

She didn’t want to wait anymore. Not after everything. Not after a lifetime of distance, of loss, of words left unsaid and moments stolen away. She wanted him, fully, without interruption, without hesitation.

And Maximilian felt it too.

That shift in her. That quiet, fierce resolve beneath the softness. The way she held onto him, not just with desire, but with something deeper, something that had been waiting far too long to surface.

He had waited too.

For this closeness. For this certainty.

His arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer, lifting her slightly as he deepened the kiss, losing himself in the warmth of her, the familiarity, the undeniable pull that had followed them across lifetimes.

And then...

The vibration.

Relentless. Insistent.

The phone rang again.

Maximilian let out a strained breath, his jaw tightening as her grip on him only grew firmer, her need clashing against his restraint.

"Catherine..." he murmured against her ear, his voice rough now, conflicted. "Maybe... it’s an emergency..."

She groaned softly, frustration rising sharp and immediate. She didn’t care. Not now. Not when every part of her was drawn toward him, when her body and heart were finally aligned in a way they never had been before.

But Maximilian had already pulled back.

Always him. Always choosing control when she was ready to surrender.

She shot him a glare before grabbing the phone, her chest rising and falling unevenly as she answered.

"What is it, Sammy?" she asked, irritation barely masked.

Silence answered her.

There only was a pause... too long, too heavy.

Catherine’s expression shifted instantly, the annoyance draining away as something colder crept in.

She sat up, her grip tightening around the phone. "Sammy?" she called again, her voice sharper now, edged with concern.

Had she been wrong to ignore it?

Then...

"Katerina..."

It wasn’t Samantha.

A child’s voice.

Catherine’s breath caught.

Joanne.