She disobeys him of course. She simply will not lay in that bed doing absolutely nothing as she waits for him. Natalia has to know where she is before she gets settled. So she explores the whole safehouse.

It's comfortable enough.

There's a sofa set across a television in the lounge room and a radio sitting on a lonely table in the corner.

The kitchen has enough food and she'll have to check the expiry dates on the milk cart she's discovered in the refrigerator.

There are two bedrooms, thank god, she has no intention of sleeping in the same bed as the Soldier. She knows that will have to happen sooner, she just hopes it doesn't happen now.

She sighs as she plops herself on the sofa. She slouches and starts to think.

This must be a Hydra safehouse. That she's certain. Which makes her less safe than she thinks she is. She wonders how they'll do this whole mating thing, if he's with Hydra and all.

Maybe he went off to them and told them that he has her captive; she straightens when that thought crosses her mind. Her heart picks up it's speed.

But then she leans back against the sofa and shakes her head. No. That doesn't make any sense. Hydra sent him to kill her, they would punish him mercilessly to find that he hasn't done exactly that. If he wanted to kill her, she wouldn't be breathing this second.

She's in already too much stress. She has to suppress the anxiety that's inwardly killing her. Slowly eating her alive.

So just where has he went off?

She crosses her arms.

She wants out of this safehouse now. She can't spend a night here without one eye open.

But he'll protect you. It's his duty, her omega side thinks. She rolls her eyes. No. She can't put her life in his hands. Absolutely not. She can't trust him. But she's already starting to, which is going to be the death of her.

Speaking of death, she smells of death. Sweat, blood, gun powder and ash.

She stands on her one good leg and decides to navigate herself back to the bedroom where the bathroom is.

She first checks if there's hot water after turning the dial and outstretches her hand. She releases an appeased sigh when the water turns warm and begins stripping her clothes off.

She carefully walks into the shower and her hair is the first thing the water hits.

She takes her time and suppresses all distressed emotions boiling inside of her. She looks down at the bloody water escaping into the drain. Old blood from hours ago before the Soldier had found her. She hasn't washed her body since packing up her things in the recent motel. A day ago.

Blood.

This makes her rub herself with soap harder.

The spilled blood in her hands is a delusion. Happens sometimes. Through nightmares and when she's conscious. Seeing blood shouldn't be an issue, but it's become one ever since wanting redemption.

She huffs and rinses her skin.

She wonders what happened to her car, where her suit and weapons are in the trunk. He probably left it there to be find, but that would be very reckless. It's like leaving evidence behind.

Just how long will she allow herself to be with him? She's still searching for the life, a life, they've stolen from her. She's still looking down in herself in search of the humanity that's been diminished since the age of six. She's broken enough she cannot be linked to him. She's not even ready to know herself. How could she possibly be ready to know someone else? But what choice does she have?

Realizing that's she's been standing too long, she roams a hand through her wet soaked locks back before turning the water off on the dial.

She grabs a towel nearby and dries herself with it before wrapping it around herself. She looks at the wall mirror above the bathroom counter and threads her fingers through the tangled parts of her wet hair.

When finished, she takes one last look at her reflection. Flushed wet cheeks, reddened plump lips and hypnotizing green eyes. Beautiful. She cringes upon mentally hearing Petrovich's voice in her head. The damn bastard. All of them. She swore an oath she will come back to kill them all and help the other girls escape. The foul things they've made her do there, besides killing, it truly makes her skin crawl the worst way possible.

She walks out of the bathroom as she shakes that topic off her head. That is for later. She's still scheming.

She takes a misstep, trips and almost falls over when seeing the Soldier standing and facing her coldly.

She widens her eyes slightly in surprise, disappointed in herself for being too much in her thoughts for not hearing a single faint change of atmosphere.

A ghost indeed.

She masks her irritation and regards him with a sharp arched eyebrow. He looks messy. His hands dark and arshy, his long hair a bit out of place and his face covered in what looks like ash. She realizes with a catch of her breath that there's a strip of blood across his forehead.

"Where were you?" She asks curiously, her brows giving away a slight furrow.

His face is blank as he stares back at her. But his eyes darken and a glare pierces her way. "We sleep here tonight. When the sun rises we move." He says.

She purses her lips irritably, not liking the way he ignores her questions. She glares back at him as he walks past her and into the bathroom, probably taking his shower.

He smells like battle, she realizes with a grimace. She turns as she stares at his retreating broad back as it disappears into the bathroom. The fact that he doesn't close the door is almost an invitation. A tight hot feeling grips the inside of her chest at the thought of going near him, naked.

Her stupid lustful omega side demands for him. Natalia has been trained to suppress feelings and emotions, but this is clearly beyond her. It's consuming and she doesn't even know she's moving until she finds herself in the shower again. The towel thrown to the floor.

The water showers on the both of them as they gaze at each other darkly. In those steel eyes of his, there is something so powerful and dominating roaring at her with fire. It's dark & intriguing and he is full naked in front of her just as she is in front of him. But they stare. They stare as the warm water rains on them, daring the other to be the first to touch. She feels weakened so close to him, his breath on her eyelids. She hates this, but it feels so damn good. So of course she's the first to move, taking the cloth in her hand and the bar soap before taking his big hands into hers. He scrutinizes her as she cleans the dust and ash off his hands. He swallows before looking down at her work. So gentle and careful. He allows it, he welcomes it. He still holds back from grabbing her by the waist and pressing her flesh against him.

She travels the cloth from his muscled arms to his chest. She is so focused, the way her lips are parted in concentration. He gulps and tries to look away as she rubs his chest with the soapy cloth. But he can't tear his eyes away from her.

The showering water takes the soap away and when she's done, she looks back at his face. Avoiding his longing gaze, she stares at the blood on his forehead and carefully wipes it off as she climbs on her tiptoes. She wipes the rest of his face and when done, he catches her wrist gently before she could pull her hand back.

She releases a shaky gasp, now desperate, unable to hold back especially after his touch. And she knows he feels the same way by the way he looks back at her with deep desire and confusion.

"Kiss-" She croaks but gets cut off by the firm soft press of his wet lips against hers.

>>>>>>>>>>>>