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A Feral Interlude-Gnawing Curiosity Part 2

Rated: NC-17
Disclaimer: Violence, gore, language, implied rape, and some serious hormones. I do not own any aspect or character of the Marvel Universe nor elements of the X-Men Origins movieverse.

A Feral Interlude: Gnawing Curiosity

“Do you know what era was my favorite?” She glanced up briefly from the portable machine resting on her lap; the corpse still slumped besides her.

Victor’s eyes roved over her, and the weight that settled on his tongue formed a lump in his throat when he swallowed. He took in her bare legs, sculpted sinuously and stretched out on the bed. She’d shed her Calvin’s and that sexy red top, which were now draped over the chair next to the bedroom window, and was wearing a man’s silk dress shirt. The dead man’s scent was laced on the shirt, so he figured she raided his things. He noticed the clutter of papers and discs that were rifled out from the briefcase still ajar on the foot of the bed, the plate cleaned of the meat discarded on the night table.

He was still in the doorway, sizing her up and trying to pick up a scent of guile from her as she continued speaking, “The 1940s. Everywhere you went, there was such vitality, even during Nazi occupation. Even here, with fear and death just around the corner as war raged in far off continents…you could taste people wanting to live, fighting for it with everything they had. I love that.”

“Love, huh” Victor rumbled with a savage gleam in his eyes as he repressed a derisive smirk. “I gotta say this for you” he sauntered towards the briefcase. “You’re keeping me on my toes” he sneered and shoved the briefcase carelessly to the floor as he leaned on the bed, purposely invading her space with hostile boasting to cajole a response out of her.

She remained poised and unflinching, eyeing him with a cool air dancing across her features before she flashed him a smile. “What’s your favorite period so far, cub” she purred, skating her legs up to cross at the knees as she shut the monitor of the portable machine, her left foot dangling teasingly a few inches away from his face.

Her slim foot was tipped with black toenails, and he knew they were naturally that color because he didn’t smell acrid chemical polish. “Don’t have one” he rumbled in a measured tone as he prowled onto the bed—the mattress sagging with his heavy frame— her foot casually swaying away as he chomped the air dangerously close to it. The huge mattress was protesting under his muscled frame as he skirted towards her right on his hands and knees, his entire body exuding animalistic interest. “Every decade had its own delicious appeal’’ he mused snidely. He couldn’t sense any malice from her, or any wound up tension that told him she was buying her time before she pounced at him. If anything, he was being bombarded by her fluctuating scent.

She smelled of blood and something musky, heady in quality but sweet in sensation as it raked over him in undulating waves. His mouth was watering from the instinctual pull of a male predator prowling around a female predator, and he knew she was eyeing him the way an animal silently cues another that they are lying in wait for their move. He recoiled suddenly, halting and laughing scathingly at her as he announced, “Oh, you want to fuck, is that all? Expecting me to initiate?”

It was her turn to laugh at him. “Oh, aren’t you the alpha male. So cute” she condescended and gently placed the portable computer onto the night table. “I like seeing you sweat, cub. Trying to figure me out and decide just when to lunge for my throat” she declared with a heat he couldn’t place in her fluid tone. “It really is a scrumptious sight…almost as scrumptious as your scent” she purred and ambled over the corpse to the opposite side of the bed he was skirting.

Fuck. She could smell the lust that ebbed through the fronting and ravenous fury that was simmering under his skin. His brows furrowed with tension before he bared his fangs at her. “I don’t like being played with, viper!” he spat and lunged at her.

Just as his hands pawed at her shoulders, Victor was unceremoniously flung into the air when she rolled back and used his own momentum to flip him away from her. He grunted when he skidded into the bathroom and slammed into the sink, demolishing the porcelain basin. Incensed, he roared as he galloped toward her and pounced onto her, flinging them both over the bed before rolling and crashing to the floor.

She hissed and wrapped her legs around his waist, vaulting him over her head so she could roll and land on top of him. When she leaned close to brush the skin of her cheek against his, Victor gripped her by her clothed upper arm and tossed her off of him. She landed on her stomach before crouching into an animal attack stance, her teeth extending to snarl at him.

He was on his feet just as she lunged at him, her nails clawing at him and nicking the side of his neck before he grabbed the back of her head and plunged his claws into her toned belly. She cried out harshly and gripped his wrist before she forced him back against the wall and snapped her vicious mouth towards his throat, his grip on the back of her hair preventing her from gnarling a chunk of him. He twisted his wrist and received a searing gash as her nails dug into his skin while his claws simultaneously gnarled deeper into her abdomen. His pulse spiked and he roared against her lips just as she dove forward and kissed him.

The contact jarred him, so he shoved her away and hesitated when she panted wildly and absently trailed her hand over her belly. His eyes widened at how her puckered slashes began to knit together and returned to smooth skin. It healed so quickly blood didn’t even have a chance to seep out of the wounds. She eyed his wrist before focusing her searing gaze on his. “Accelerated healing factors will make this one long dance, Creed” she scintillated and tugged at the tear in the shirt.

“You cunning fucking viper” he scoffed harshly, knowing it shouldn’t have surprised him. If she was older than him as she kept boasting, her mutation had to involve some sort of regenerative trait comparable to his. Didn’t mean he had to fucking like it. “Doesn’t change my plans. I’m still going to skin you alive, just now I think I’ll do so after I fuck you bloody!” he growled in controlled vexation as he took his coat off and flung it out to the living room. She couldn’t help but laugh, the sound sultry and dripping with allure. “The prospect of getting raped amusing?” he snapped and stalked towards her.

She crawled backwards onto the bed and hummed at him. “Unfortunately for you, Mr. Creed, you can’t rape the willing” she offered with a biting edge of seduction as she sprawled onto her side before him.

That did it. His cock was straining painfully against his zipper at her luscious jeer. He’d been half-hard since he walked into the suite, even when she’d had him stunned out of his system. Now he felt a primordial need that paled in comparison to the violent urges he wanted to inflict on her. This was baser than the desire for sexual conquest, and that fact was like a brick to the face. The adrenaline in his blood was floored, with every nerve standing at attention and commanding him to force her into submission and mount her just like the big animal he was. He usually obeyed his urges as soon as they jumped inside of him, just like he would when the desire to kill and devour roared in him. But the fact remained that a willing conquest was alien to him, especially when his current prey was a huntress capable of fighting him tooth and nail for dominance.

Then the situation snapped into full clarity.

“Oh” his baffled mutter was soon washed away by the raucous laughter that burst to life in him, “You sexy, vicious little viper.” His voice lowered to a hungry husk when she raised a brow and leaned up on her hands and knees, her muscles tightening in anticipation. “I should’ve figured it out earlier. Hah” he mused and turned away from her to exit the room, his demeanor dismissive; he’d finally figured out the rules of the game.

She made a noise of confusion in her throat, vaulting off the bed and unto her feet to tentatively follow him. When she entered the living room, he was at the cart, flinging the plate covers to the floor and polishing off a plate of sirloin steak as he considered the other entrees. She blinked at him before looking at his dark heavy coat at her feet. Picking it up with her foot and flinging it onto the back of the nearest chair, she measured her unconsciously fluid lope towards him, her hands twitching impulsively. Her senses were sharp and wary, while his had suddenly diminished to an unperturbed frequency.

All the cues were wrong now. He wasn’t the alpha predator drunk with rage or desire. Instead, he was exuding disinterest. Flippancy in a predator towards another predator was tantamount to a challenge, a silent jeer; you’re not worthy.

He smelled the shift. She was fuming, growing livid from how he’d disregard her as a predator that deserved fear and challenge.

“Got anything to wash this down with, viper?” Her eyes were boring into him as he tossed an empty plate to clatter on the cart before reaching for another. “Ah, nevermind. The bar is right in here” he snickered nonchalantly as he headed behind the marble counter to his right and rummaged in the cabinets, snatching out a few bottles of scotch and bourbon before walking back around to drop into the smoky loveseat closest to where the cart was. He twisted the bottle of scotch open and took a long swig from it, eyeing her impishly over the rim when he pulled it away from his lips with a content sigh. “What, suddenly not hospitable, frail—?”

She lunged at him, her momentum tipping the couch back and jostling them into a tangle of limbs as they fought to maim and chomp at each other. Bottle of scotch flying out of his hand, Victor barked a berating laugh when he rocked her over his head and flipped to slam down onto her. She head-butted him in the mouth swiftly, cutting his laugh off and causing him to bite into his bottom lip. Suddenly, she wrapped her legs around his waist and dove for his mouth to latch her lips onto his.

The coppery taste of his blood drew a moan from her, and Victor could smell her spike of feral accomplishment as she bit down and drew more of his blood into her mouth. He froze, growling against her mouth before tearing his away and snarling at her. Her hand tried to claw at his face, but he slammed it to the floor before pinning it between their struggling and flailing bodies. The little bitch was trying to touch him for who the hell knew what!

“Nah-ah-ah, viper” he hissed haughtily at her when her other hand tried to scrape against his throat. He pinned that one against his clothed chest, her nails clanking against his dog tags. “You’re not playing by the rules” he goaded and she growled like a serpent under him.

“I see it took you this long to realize just what the rules were, brat!” she lunged and chomped at him, but he reared back on his heels before taking her by the cuffed wrists and swinging her away from him. She rolled onto the carpet before flipping into the air and onto her feet like a martial artist. “I guess you were right, cub” she bitingly announced, hissing as she kicked the small coffee table at him.

The table shattered when it crashed against his shoulder and fell in a splintered heap at his feet. “Oh, don’t be such a spoiled sport, bitch” he chuckled viciously and stalked over the destroyed furniture to rush at her. When she skated out of his grasp and pounced on him, he used her own momentum to slam her down on the large suede couch. The damn thing sagged and the legs snapped from under them from the force.

Unfazed, she yelled and kicked her long leg up, the heel of her foot connecting with his mandible and snapping his head back with an audible crack. He wavered on his feet, the blow making him see stars before he stumbled over the upturned loveseat. Shaking his head, he felt the whiplash jar down his spine before he popped the vertebrae in his neck back into place like an expert.

“If you open your fucking mouth” she bellowed, pointing a wrathful finger at him, “I’ll pump you full of so much poison you’ll choke on your own fucking tongue!”

“Oh-ho! Feisty. Keep talking like that and you might get me hot, sugar” he laughed, instigating further by swaggering around her in a wide, slow stride. “And what am I right about? That you’re in a rut looking for a fuck?”

This time she returned his contemptuous grin with a chilly smile. “No, that I should’ve killed you as soon as your brute ass came prowling after me like a horny dog” she seethed as she trailed her hand up her side to snap a button off the now shabby silk shirt.

He snarled a warning. “Your mouth is going to look so good choking on my cock, frail” he growled sadistically, his eyes flashing when she popped another button off her shirt, “Not to mention feel delicious.” The lapels were tugging wide, revealing the plane of her clavicle, and the sudden copper sheen that shimmered over her skin. Gold, bronze, and copper. He realized each were the subtle indicator for one of her pheromones. Gold was from the stillness. “Planning on using rapture on me, viper?”

Her eyes flared before cooling bemusedly. “I don’t use rapture on the likes of you, Creed” she sneered.

So it was poison then. “Aw, but you’ll poison me? How frigid” he bared his teeth in a sinister smirk. “I saw you use rapture on that fucker you bled in the room. What’s he got that I don’t?” he teased, nostrils flaring at the wave of anger that flooded her scent.

Flickering with something unreadable, Ms. Montecristo’s features grew smooth and composed. Victor knew he hit a nerve, but was taken aback when she replied softly, “He was food. You’re an animal. I don’t play with my food.”

He paused in his prowl, contemplating her with blazing eyes. “Why not use it to get what you want?” he rumbled, his gaze intensifying as he stalked closer. “Face it, toots, we both know you want your pretty ass dominated. You’ve wanted me to mount you since the conference room. Why not caress some rapture into me and get what you want?” he husked in order to submerge the gnawing curiosity he had about her convoluted motives.

She scoffed, and actually turned away to stare contemplatively out the windows at the glimmering desert night. A soft laugh warmed up her slender throat; Victor watched her, roving his eyes over the now translucent shirt that was too pale to hide her tan silhouette, too intrigued to take advantage of her lowered guard.

“Where is the struggle; the battle to take what you want from...” her words drifted and she waved the sentence away dismissively.

“An animal vying to take and be taken” he finished for her, his voice a gruff statement.

That was the drive of most rogue animals. To fight, devour, and dominate another just as strong and feral as them; to lord over an equal or be taken by one worthy enough to square off against you…to be claimed by a stronger adversary and relish in the struggle. You could taste people wanting to live, fighting for it with everything they had. Her words purred back to him. I love that.

“Why take someone unwillingly under the rouse of will” she muttered pensively as she wandered away from him, trailing her nails against the glass as she neared the bedroom. “If you can’t see the struggle in their eyes, the fear and thrill, the burning of blood and muscle clawing to be on top, and the pure rapture that comes with the fight for conquest…the vitality of it all” she stated and turned towards him as she leaned against the doorframe. “If all that is numbed and handed off for the sake of empty lust, then what’s the point of living like an animal to begin with?”

He totally agreed. She had obviously faced facts that being stronger didn’t matter if everyone else was naturally weaker than you. The lure of strength, of dominating, was not about all the weaker people you could crush, but the other stronger people you could clash against; that could tear you down just as savagely as you could tear them apart.

She gazed at him with composed strength, her poised and curvaceous figure barely contained in the now tattered and torn shirt. When she crossed her arms, the shirt’s tails rode up and showed a hem of white lace along her hip. His mouth watered as he stared back up into her eyes. He knew his heated look was something voracious and wild from how her eyes lowered in silent instigation.

In three long strides he was in front of her.

Gathering her up in his arms, Victor dove hungrily for her mouth, kissing her roughly and nipping his fangs over her lips bestially. She clawed at his shoulders and wove her legs deftly around his waist as he hoisted her against him, purring when he ground his crotch against her. He stalked into the room and scraped rough kisses along her jaw before latching his mouth over her pulse, pricking his fangs into the skin and savoring the taste of her heady blood. She arched and hissed against him, rubbing herself along the prominent ridge of his erection and dragging her pointed nails down to his collarbones. He shuddered, sinking his teeth deeper into her neck and growling as he sprawled onto the foot of the bed.

He extended his claws and kneaded her round ass, loving the texture of her smooth and burning skin while she clawed her hands down his spine. She suckled hard on his bottom lip before flicking her tongue against his fangs. “Your scent is making me dizzy, cub” she hissed and arched against him when his hands snaked from the small of her back to journey up her sides and cupped her breasts roughly in his warm calloused hands. Shoving his unbuttoned dress shirt hastily off his shoulders and tugging them off his arms, she followed up by forcing the snug sleeveless shirt over his head before he grabbed her possessively and scraped his fangs angrily down her neck to her shoulder.

“Keep calling me that, and I’ll stuff that hot mouth of yours with my cock” he growled. His claws raked over the taut muscles and pinched superficial gouges that scented the air between them with blood, the scratches healing quickly before his nails bit into more of her skin. She pursed her lips in amusement against his throat, her tapered fingers digging into the back of his scalp as she scraped her teeth down his neck before clamping her mouth down on the juncture linking shoulder to neck. Victor grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the bed, digging his nails into her skin when she hissed in challenge. “Extend your teeth and bite me for real” he demanded, snarling in her face before she flipped him over her head and rolled to land on top of him.

“So eager for pain already?” she sauntered provocatively against his lips as her canines and incisors extended. “What if I like how you taste and decide to nibble, cub?” She raked her nails down his sculpted torso to start working his jeans undone, nipping at his abdomen while her nails tugged roughly on unfastening his pants.

Victor growled in favor of her ardent suggestion, the pet name ignored as he fisted his hands into her long dark hair and felt the constricting pressure in his crotch ease from the confines of his denim prison. When she freed his erection, she scraped her ferocious teeth down the underside of the shaft before laving the angry welts with her tongue. Victor hissed in pleasure at the sensation, his hips bucking off the bed and urgently thrusting toward her mouth.

She hummed in amusement, ducking away and leaving Victor desperate for the heat of her mouth. A groan of impatience lodged in his throat. He was content with having her suck him off, but a burning urge in his gut began to simmer while he debated about mounting her or pounding into her. An image of her legs draped over his shoulder as he plundered her sent a jolt of pleasure to his groin. The sting of her teeth tickled, making him even more ravenous. A grin played on his lips as he sat up to watch her, stiffening when he saw the corpse still slumped on the bed. The cadaver was blue-faced and left limp, shifting with their movements on the mattress.

Fisting her hair and tugging her up from her delicious oral torture, the sour-faced mutant feral sneered, “Do us a favor and get rid of that? It’s stinking up the mood…and I don’t like the way it’s staring at me.”

She peered over her shoulder at the corpse before turning to meet his comical gaze. She laughed lightheartedly and pawed at his chest as she leaned in to muse, “What, you’ve never forgotten to toss your leftovers?”

Her playful cruelty made him hot. “Just get him off the bed or there won’t be anything left of you” he husked, adding thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t mind making you my dinner.” He smiled nastily when she raised a brow at him.

“You devoured most of the room service already” she sneered and combed her talons through the dark hair of his chest, fingering the chain of his dog tags before idly admiring how they glinted under the light.

“Oh, hunger has nothing to do with it. You’ve provoked me enough to owe me a chunk of flesh” he tersely snickered and emphasized his point by dragging his fangs down her neck and biting down hard on her shoulder.

Sighing at the heat of his mouth piercing her skin, she hesitated in shoving him away and reluctantly eyed her kill, not wanting things to cool. But, he really didn’t like the corpse, so she slinked over and hauled the dead man up by his shirt and arm, lifting and dragging him into the bathroom where she unceremoniously chucked him into the huge bathtub.

“Goodness, the staff will be cleaning this mess up for weeks” she mused and strutted over to stand at the threshold. She crossed her arms, the shirt hanging precariously in a tattered heap on her shoulders, only two buttons holding it closed. The vivid russet around her pupils seemed to glow, standing out in the frond green of her eyes.

Determinedly focused on her ravage-worthy body, Victor leapt off of the bed and slammed her against the wall, pressing into her and clutching at her as he tore her tattered shirt open. She gasped and arched against him, her legs nimbly wrapping around him as she struggled to align her hips with his while simultaneously trying to shove his pants off his hips down to his thighs.

He seized her wrists and jerked them over her head to be pinned brutishly against the wall, thwarting her resolute urging. “Ah-ah, you didn’t get permission to undress me, viper” he hissed darkly while his eyes took on a lustfully smoky quality.

“You didn’t object, cub” she wriggled against him, nubile and limber as she laughed heartily down at him. “I’ve allowed you this much, so just how are you going to claim supremacy with your pants still on?” she purred, watching as his eyes flashed angrily at the challenge. It was as if he didn’t have her under submission. So she thought she was still in full reign, eh?

“I think you’re right, viper” he grinned ferociously, his canines denting his lip. “I keep forgetting you’re no ordinary frail” he mocked before tossing her to the bed. When she bounced into the air, Victor took the moment of her freefall to savor the sight of her generous breasts and her hourglass shape as she shrugged out of the shirt.

Only wearing her pristine panties, she landed on her knees and laughed, discarding the tattered shirt. “You’re not going to provoke me with silly terms, cub. ‘Frail’? If you’re going to bait me you need to try another strategy” she jovially teased and combed her hair back out of her face. “Now get over here before I use you for a scratch post” she purred, her teeth clicking as she grinned leeringly at his ramrod cock standing proudly from his pants.

He looked incredibly delectable to her, especially when he shoved his boots and stripped his intrusive pants off. There was no question that he was the most virile and worthy specimen that had crossed her path in her brief eon of life…at least not for many decades. His presence electrified the air around her, tickling her skin and disarming her more than she would ever show.

She hadn’t expected him to be the free agent vying for the job when she stormed into the conference room. His scent had been abrasively tantalizing her from the minute she stepped into the hall, a wild and heady mixture of soil, blood, and his own kind of feral musk. Ferociously heady, but surprisingly appealing to her. He smelled warm, as if heat itself melted outwards from his pores. No, she had never seen him before, but his reputation preceded him.

She hadn’t been completely sure of who she was contending with until the mediator had flustered his name, terrified of the feral behemoth dressed in black with the eyes of icy water. The fact that the Sabertooth stood across from her had taken her aback. This wasn’t his kind of work, nor was she sure he even knew how far he’d strayed into the quicksand of private contracts. But she knew exactly who he was. His work had left a wake of stories and bodies that had most cold-blooded killers stiff with wary respect…and fear.

Fear tasted so delicious.

His eyes caught hers in a silent struggle for dominance just as she crawled provocatively towards him on the bed. Their cues were of two dominant forces unprepared to relinquish control. No matter how much she wanted him, there was no way she was going to roll over and be dominated without a real battle.

“Do you need a written invitation?”

Her teasing jeer made his ire rise, a primal growl rumbling from his chest as he pounced onto her before she could suppress the pleasure that shone in her eyes. They slammed against each other and thrashed wildly for the upper hand, earning them both slashes and stinging wounds that mended just as quickly as the next blow came. Victor pinned her under his barrel chest, grinding against her breasts and charged by the friction of her skin against his. Hissing and arching against him, she purposely slammed her pelvis against his hips, crushing his erection against the heat of her apex before grinding wantonly against it.

Victor roared his approval before clawing his hands between their burning bodies to paw at her god-forsaken panties. When he pulled back to yank the intrusive underwear off her, she dove up at him and slammed him back against the bed, digging her nails into the back of his shoulders as she sunk her elongated canines and incisors into the ropy muscle joining his neck and shoulder. Victor stiffened under her and purred drunkenly, extending his vicious nails and digging them into her back. She mewled and tore into his muscle more before worrying the bloody flesh between her teeth soothingly.

Betraying himself to the bliss of pain and pleasure, Victor allowed her to taste his blood again, her lips pursing and sucking hard on the wound and keeping it from healing. His head was swimming with sensations, but the incensed animal inside of him couldn’t believe he was on his back, being devoured by another. The savage half of him that would never listen to reason rose to the surface, and the world spun as he roared irately and slammed her indignantly against the headboard, the mirror rattling above the bed dangerously as he yanked back on her dark mane of hair and bared her throat to his ravenous mouth while his claws dug into the small of her back.

She gasped as his teeth sunk into her throat, blood rising to sputter into his mouth while she arched and clutched onto him. Her reaction jolted Victor and slapped him back to rein his sadism before the animal inside of him ran too wild. He unlatched his teeth from her throat and reared back to stare into her searing eyes hooded with desire. The fact that she was arching and clutching at him wasn’t what had electrified him, oh no he had experienced that thousands of times…it was how she did it; not from fear or in the throes of helpless agony, but with desire—wanting and demanding more brutality from him as if his sadism was sweeter than bliss itself.

He watched as the wound his fangs had left on her throat mended shut, her eyes staring into his with a tickle of approval. She exhaled a breath through her mouth like a soft sigh before lulling her head back to stare up at their reflection in the mirror. His eyes followed hers up to the mirror, and he took in the sight of them with a ferocious accomplishment that he reveled in for seconds longer than he should have. When she wrapped her hands around his neck and nimbly ground against him, it took all his control not to ram into her to the hilt. He knew she wanted him to go wild, and as a true sadist he would do anything to prolong her torture, even if it meant delaying his usual bestial repertoire.

Leaving a frail broken and bloody, gasping for death before proudly delivering her to an excruciating end was normal custom, one he had grown to enjoy with every fiber of his vicious being, but one he knew with begrudging resentment and enthralling intrigue wouldn’t work on his current prize.

The prey in his arms was willing, ruthless, and hungry for everything he could give and was damn willing to reciprocate with equal intensity and ferocity. She wouldn’t break, or fall to pieces from the hot white pain he could inflict. The proof was literally staring at him in the mirror. She was watching him, intoxicated by the heavy current of possessive desire and bestial longing that was in-tuning them to each other. The viper was daring him to mark her; to make her his just before he claimed her body the way a feral should.

He wouldn’t oblige her just yet. No, the animal wanted to have at her, wanted to pound into her and latch onto her until he found a way to make her bleed and scream…the animal wanted to devour her, to claim her just like all the other kills. It wanted to relish in her death and climax all at once, but unlike the Sabertooth, Victor Creed still remained and knew he could not devour her. Not physically. She was an enigma the feral side of him was astonished and distressed by all at once. Was it the same for her? No, clearly it wasn’t. She wanted the animal…and the animal wanted her just as bad, but Victor craved more than the ferocious glee and fulfillment of crushing the life out of her. It vexed him…worried him, and that made him angry all over again. But the craving remained, viscerally compelling while the anger fleeted away.

No, he wouldn’t oblige either of them just yet.

His fist tightened on her hair, yanking her taut as a bow against his chest as he leaned over her. The breath hitched in her throat and her nails dug into his biceps, but he ignored her reactions and pressed his nose against the hot skin of her neck. She smelled sweet and wet, her anticipation like a soft current along her skin that tickled his tongue when he dragged it leisurely from her neck down to the dip of her clavicle. His other hand pawed up to clamp over one of her breasts, the pads of his fingers savoring the texture of her skin as he lulled his mouth down the valley of her chest.

She hissed and dug her nails deeper into his arms, but he ignored the pain and the impulse to retaliate, focusing instead on driving her wild under him. When she wriggled in his grasp, he tugged warningly on her hair and continued committing her to memory. He knew she could sense the wound up tension and bloodlust that emanated behind his every touch and caress, which is exactly how he wanted it. Instead of relaxing under his unabashed touch, she tensed further, her senses frayed and expectant of the claws and teeth that wanted to tear into her but just weren’t.

Eyes staring up into the mirror, she watched as he coursed from worrying her studded nipples between his teeth to rub his hand over the lithe plane of her belly. He seemed struck by the smooth texture and hairless skin, tantalized by the uniqueness of her feminine form. She numbly stared as his eyes lingered over the thin shadow that curved faintly down her belly shy of her womb.

When she tensed and jerked from his fingers firmly caressing the length of the smooth scar, he snapped his gaze up to hers in the mirror’s reflection. They gazed at each other implacably before he shoved his hand between her thighs and brushed his knuckles along the cleft of her sex, rubbing against her hidden bud. She shuddered and thrust against his hand, gasping when the grip at her hair moved to clamp around her throat instead.

The ire in her eyes aroused him from its intensity while he licked his lips and tasted her on them. Her hands unhinged themselves from his biceps to drag down to his forearms, her glare challenging him to dominate her.

Instead, Victor dove for her mouth, kissing her fiercely before positioning her onto his lap. When he pushed up into her tight heat, she cried out and shut her eyes at the delicious intrusion. Chuckling against her jaw, Victor snaked his hand from her throat to wriggle her wrists together, holding them behind her back in a vice like grip before meeting her captivating eyes with his smoky gaze.

“Now that I have your attention” he hissed darkly, rotating his hips for emphasis. “We’re going to mate. I’m going to fuck you with everything I have, and you better damn well do the same. No muss, no fuss, and if you fuss, I’m going to leave you in your rut, no matter how good your cunt is, understood, viper?” he declared nastily and allowed his smirk to creep slowly across his lips as her eyes intensified on him and her lips softened.

Leaning up to meet him nose to nose, despite the strain of having her arms pulled taut behind her, the feral woman returned his smirk. “That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said all night, cub” and with that biting purr, she kissed him voraciously while simultaneously contracting around his throbbing shaft lasciviously.

She savored his groan, their tongues laving over sharp peaks briefly before Victor slammed into her. Biting down on his lip, she mewled in approval before Victor knocked the wind out of her with the pounding force of his next thrust. He rolled suddenly and forced her taut under him, his grip still tight around her wrists behind her back and leaving her precariously supported by his hips between her thighs and her legs around his waist. They were both charged with predatory lust after all the challenging and chest beating, which had ironically been the closest thing to foreplay for both of them in years. Relegating their standoff into a truce where both consensual predators silently agreed to share dominance, the nefarious agent and mercenary lost themselves into the hypersensitive throes of wild sex, literally.

Victor panted harshly as he pounded with abandon into the tight heat of her body, digging his extended claws into her toned thighs and rubbing his mutton-chopped cheek against the inside of her knee while she arched her back off the bed and hummed with pleasure. Crouching over her and forcing her knees to loop over his forearms, Victor suckled on her breast harshly before she raked her talons down his shoulders and hissed eagerly for more. They didn’t utter a word to each other, lost in the primordial synchronization of mating. When one wanted to shift positions, the other rolled with them, unspokenly compliant as long as the sensations increased. So when a few rolls and forceful shoves got him on his back with her riding him hard, Victor only growled and thrust up to match her pace, relishing in the unrestrained savagery of their coupling.

Most frails would’ve been broken and shrieking in agony by now from the force and brutality of his thrusts, if they could even muster enough breath to stay conscious that is. For him, half the fun was in breaking his toy just before he climaxed, so he could feel the life go out of them just as he reached release. Now, however, he found himself attuned to an animal magnetism that left him desperate for her reactions and reciprocity. This was a desire he’d never entertained, but the advent of it left him buzzing for more.

Lunging up to wrap his arms around her, Victor slammed her down to the bed in one fluid motion before kissing her with blistering intensity, one which she met head on by returning his hungry kiss and clinging to him as he lost himself to the animal. In a haze of roaring pulses, flesh colliding against flesh, and ravenous passion echoed against lips and teeth, both ferals managed to fuck each other into the oblivion of mind-numbing ecstasy, sinking talons and claws into sinewy flesh. She cried out heartily and stiffened under him, her eyes radiating the gulf of her ardor while he roared gruffly and mindlessly thrust into her one last time, his usually icy gaze blazing down at her before his arms gave out on him.

Sprawled on top of her, Victor buried his face against her neck, tasting her and relishing the enthralling sense of carnal fulfillment he was basking in. Rolling off of her and onto his back, he spared a long glance at her as she lay beside him. She was breathing raggedly, her lips were delicately parted. Her breathing softened and her eyes remained shut as if sensations were still undulating within her. She looked absolutely tantalizing. An urge to possess her for himself, to keep her like a prized trophy for only his hands and mouth to savor—only his to control and own—knotted in the pit of his stomach, one he suppressed dismissively once she turned her scintillating gaze towards him.

Her eyes were smiling alluringly at him with genuine pleasure, something he hadn’t experienced from a woman…ever. The ephemeral sense of awe washed away when her hand cupped the side of his jaw and her nails affectionately scratched the fur of his cheek. Victor didn’t recoil from her touch, but didn’t encourage it either, even when her hand trailed down his neck to linger on his broad chest. Their eyes connected instead, both seeing the predatory gleam in each other’s gazes.

Then as sudden as the gravitating force between them began, it was extinguished once her eyes flinted away from his and she rose fluidly from the demolished mattress to strut into the bathroom. Victor tensed with incomprehension before he rose onto his hands and watched just as she stepped into the glass shower. The sound of water jetting out of the shower spray was all he heard as he tried to deduce what tactic she was playing at now. The wake of her scent had no guile in it…only arousal, damp but still sweet like syrup to his nose. He climbed off the bed and stood at the threshold of the bathroom, staring in while his mind leapt to every conclusion her actions left him.

It wasn’t a dismissal. He knew that much from the combination of idle affection and primal boasting in her eyes…but had it been a silent invitation to follow her? Or, did she expect him to leave? His words came back to him like an echo. No muss, no fuss. Then he knew it was another test. A test he had unknowingly initiated. If he had meant what he said, then he could leave satisfied and without further overtures. They were even. She had her job and a marvelous fuck, while he had his check and some of the best sex he’d ever had. The latter was quite a brag considering his lengthy lifespan. Still…he wasn’t heading for his clothes, nor was he in a rush to leave the feisty frail when her scent cued more debauchery in store if he stayed.

The steam from the shower was fogging up the sumptuous bathroom, the condensation clinging to Victor’s skin as he closed in on her. She’d left the glass door open and had her back to him while she basked under the hot water that ran down her head, trekking over every curve before splashing to the floor. He watched her for a long moment, his senses sharpening against the intoxication of her scent as it wafted at him in the heated room. Her scent had an almost citrus-like base to it under a heady tang that made her stand out from other women. It was pungent and spicy, feral, but so much softer…sweeter.

He watched as she ran her fingers through her thick mane of hair before caressing her palms down her supple breasts and her torso, dragging them around her hips to venture between her thighs. His eyes honed in as her hands rubbed along her inner thighs, watching as she rinsed away his semen before dipping to an angle that invited his leering gaze to parts of her he wouldn’t mind committing to memory with his mouth. When she straightened and tossed her hair over her shoulder, she looked back at him as if she’d known he’d been watching her the whole time. No shit she knew. Why the hell else would she have left the door open for you! Victor berated himself mildly while returning her sultry gaze with a cool look and a raised brow. Not that he could feign disinterest when his cock was hard as a rock again and his scent was probably speaking volumes for him.

She turned back to the water, tipping her face up to the surge and sighing with pleasure. Victor had the sudden impulse to mimic the water’s course with his mouth and hands, wanting to savor the feel of her eerily velvety skin again. It was as if the scales he’d expected were covered with smooth satin in order to obscure her—camouflage her to the most certain of senses. Truth was, if he hadn’t seen her skin shimmer he would’ve never pegged her for a reptilian feral.

His hand reaffirmed the silken touch of her flesh as he trailed up her stomach, fingertips and claws skating across her flesh firmly after he pressed behind her and shut the door to trap her and the heat inside. His other hand came around to cup her crotch while he pawed at a breast, squeezing cheekily as he pressed against her. When she turned to glance at him, her lips collided against his jaw before caressing slowly along his furred cheek. She pressed against his hips when his mouth captured hers hungrily. Before their kiss intensified, Victor turned her around in his arms and pressed her up against the wall.

They both wanted each other enough to discard their feral need to dominate, wild lust taking the forefront. Losing themselves to the heat and hunger, they took each other, fucking against the smooth tiled wall of the shower stall. Pretense was ignored even further when the shower grew too confined and motivated them to move back into the bedroom.

The sleek tangle of limbs they became on the bed only lasted for a few wayward moments before Victor staked his claim for control by dragging his mate to the end of the mattress. He wrapped her legs around his hips and held her in place, entering her again with one fierce thrust, slamming home again and again as he loomed over her luscious body. She arched her back off the bed and stared up at him with pure rapture in her eyes, letting him manhandle her expertly. The approval and urging in her expression made him so wild that he couldn’t commit to taking her in only one way.

When he flipped her onto her stomach, she moaned with anticipation and arched provocatively. He pulled her against him before sliding his ramrod cock to trail the slick valley between her thighs. Gasping at the electrifying contact, she gripped the back of his neck and ground back on his hips, his hairy chest causing delicious friction against her back as he scraped his ferocious claws up her torso to worry her heavy mounds in his rough palms. The sound she made shot a jolt through him, so he bucked against her firm backside and clamped his mouth over her tender shoulder muscle. Instead of recoiling from the fire his mouth tore into her flesh, she encouraged it by cupping the back of his skull and growing taut against him.

Her sultry mouth was causing havoc on his already crumbling control, so when he dragged his mouth to nip at her jaw he was floored by her primal groan for more. Their mouths clashed briefly, a flurry of dueling tongues and scraping teeth before lips worried and lingered against each other for an effervescent moment. The intoxication they both were under was unlike anything either had experienced. Needless to say they relished in each other’s clutches, especially when Victor eased back into her throbbing heat.

Ironically enough, the position that garnered the most pleasure for them both involved him spooning her, since it left her open to him and still allowed him access to her mouth and racing pulse while allowing her to meet his pounding thrusts with her bucking hips—not to mention her equally voracious mouth. Her teeth clamped viciously down on his forearm, earning a growl before he reciprocated by biting down and sucking on her pulse.

A shudder rocked through her, accompanied by a sharp contraction of her body around his throbbing sex. It was all Victor could do to frantically pound into her and send her over the edge before he broke. In a flood of sensation, they came undone almost simultaneously. Clutching her against him while she grew taut in his arms, both ruthless ferals released hearty cries and rocked against each other fiercely, prolonging each other’s pleasure and causing a sense of completion to blossom over them in a wave of heat and roaring pulses.

It was the most fulfilling sensation he’d ever experienced, feeling utterly complete in the moment. Nothing like it compared. All his other sexual conquests ended with his powerful release, but once the rush of life fizzled and his plaything was left a shallow shell, no sense of power and control he held over their life lingered long enough to satiate him. It was all empty release—except for this moment with a fellow predator.

When she shifted minutely, he was dully aware of how intently he still gripped her against him. Her foot caressed up his leg to brush his muscled calf before she hummed and cupped the back of his neck. Her nose trailed under his jaw before Victor unconsciously returned the gesture by nuzzling her temple and burying his nose in her hair. Their primitive caresses were hardwired, unspoken but articulating approval and the acceptance that could only be relinquished to each other once their claim was complete.

Neither of them spoke, content and savagely sated enough to simply bask in the wild tangle their bodies were interlocked in. Her body was hot as an ember against him, and he was like a stoked furnace that engulfed her. The warmth of their bodies and breaths—coupled with the exhaustion that steadily crept over them—slowly lulled them into slumber, matters of dominance and reprisals forgotten in the bestial afterglow of mating.


Dawn began to crest in the desert horizon, sending blazing rays of sunlight over the Vegas strip and into the sprawling windows of the luxury suite. The warmth caressed the side of his face, making him grunt in his sleep and nuzzle the pillow before he turned away from the light. Her scent clung to the bedding and flooded him with lazy desire when he inhaled and stretched on the bed.

Stiffening, Victor jerked awake and warily shook the sleep off his senses. Growling, he swiped the back of his hand across his eyes before looking around the room. He was alone.

The room was still a disaster zone from last night, but the only thing left of her was the tattered dress shirt and her heady scent. Climbing off the bed, Victor stalked naked out into the other room, following the strongest trail of her scent to find it led to the door. Stalking back into the bedroom, he noticed the portable device and the briefcase were gone too, and his clothes were folded neatly on the dresser. The viper had the time to tidy up while you were knocked the fuck out like a goddamned cat!

He fumed, trying to quell his anger, but failing the more the situation mocked him. He didn’t know what made him more irate: the fact that she snuck out without stirring him from his sleep or that he felt like the jilted lover—of course in the loosest interpretation of the term. Creed was accustomed to leaving his playthings broken where they fell, collecting himself and proudly heading on his merry way without a second thought. He’d certainly never been the one left behind like a dozing pet too fucking content on having his belly scratched to notice otherwise. An indolent rage tugged at him, but he shoved it away to instead furiously pull his clothes on.

She clearly had way more practice at slinking away with her prize before the bastard she’d just bled—literally and figuratively—knew what was what. But to get yet another one over on him?! Growling lividly at himself, he tugged his black undershirt on before shrugging into his button down and stalking towards his coat. He grabbed it off of the back of the chair in the living room and sneered when he smelled her on it, intertwined along with the myriad of scents that were familiar to him. Throwing it on, he adjusted it over his shoulders before swiping his palms down his sides.

His brows furrowed in confusion as he patted the concealed pocket and didn’t feel the slip of paper he’d tucked in for safe keeping. Yanking his hand into his coat and fishing nothing out of the pocket, the fury Victor felt was so intense he saw white for a few seconds. Pulling his fist out of the wall, he roared with the futile wrath he couldn’t purposefully take out. Decimating everything in the suite with enough bulk and demolishing the furniture left him panting not from exertion but from the fizzling adrenaline.

Prowling out of the room, Victor left the hotel amidst a haze of surroundings, still under a fog of restrained rage that left him on automatic pilot until he was on the other side of town. The morning was just beginning when he was speeding down the isolated stretch of desert highway in his ’70 Wagoneer Jeep, fuming but aptly driving. His grip on the steering wheel was the only thing betraying his fury. Something he realized only after he stopped at a seedy truck stop a few hours away from Salt Lake City and had to pry his hands from the dented steering wheel.

Breezing into the diner, Victor stalked through and was virtually ignored by the other patrons, proving just how sleazy and lawless the establishment was, and found a stool at the end of the counter tucked out of sight just across from the grimy television set mounted into the wall. The waitress loped over and glanced at him over the rims of her gaudy glasses.

“Beer, steak ‘n eggs, and black coffee. Steak bloody” he tersely ordered and hunched over the counter, looking surly and more dangerous than usual. The waitress took his order and gave him a look like she’d seen it all including his big bad killer type before walking away.

He was so pissed he could drill through solid rock with his fists. When the coffee was set in front of him, he swallowed it and the bitter taste before the waitress slid the plate of food and the icy beer between his curled hands. He picked up the fork and began wolfing his food, not really hungry but needing to work something into his system besides the nasty coffee and the seething rage. The news was droning on across from him, the sound low enough for human ears but perceptible to his keen hearing.

—authorities in Las Vegas are baffled by the brutal homicide scene found in the high rollers suite at the Monte Carlo hotel and casino this morning, Janet. The victim, Tommy DeLaughter, is the son of DIA Director Reginald DeLaughter—recently involved in the security breach that occurred at the Defense Department headquarters in Washington. Federal authorities suspected DeLaughter of perpetrating the breach, but have now reason to believe his son Tommy to have clandestinely stolen top-secret information from his father. Just this morning the FBI had placed a warrant for Tommy DeLaughter’s arrest, only to have US Marshalls stumble upon the gruesome scene at the Monte Carlo. Vegas P.D. sergeant Walker had no comment when asked over the victim’s cause of death…

The rest of what the portly reporter was saying became white noise to Victor as he honed in on the screen, seeing the recent picture of the stupid bastard Montecristo had bled dry fill the screen momentarily as the reporter impassively spoke. He drank his beer in one long swallow before plopping the empty bottle down on the counter along with a few bills to cover his tab. Breezing out of the bar as quick as he’d come in, Victor strode to his jeep and got in.

The viper was one cunning conniving bitch. As soon as she’d left that conference room she had been on the job, but not too busy to toy with him and get what she wanted from him before leaving him with only his dick in his hand to show for it. The anger boiled up inside of him, but for some reason didn’t bristle over. Part of him wanted to skin her alive, tear her limb from limb before crushing the life out of her. Another part of him was impressed. She wasn’t someone to be trifled with, and a beastly part of him respected and hated her for it. Visceral impulses were undulating in him, leaving him conflicted and angry all over again before they were settled by the precedent of his outrage.

There was no way in hell he was going to let the viper slip from his grasps. Not unless he snuffed the life out of her for what she’d done to his pride. He wouldn’t and couldn’t dignify himself or the animal with the thought of letting her walk away supreme. She had to know as much.

Heading east, Victor was struck by that. She’s counting on it. Why the hell else would she take his check? She didn’t need his money, but she sure got his attention hadn’t she? Biting back the smile that threatened to obscure his sneer, Victor ran his fingers through his inch long hair before gripping it with a growl.

“Touché bitch. You got the last laugh—for now.”


The silver of her ’65 DB5 Aston Martin convertible glinted under the brilliant West coast sun as she raced down the interstate, the desert landscape speeding by. Her hair whipped around her and clung to the rim of her sunglasses, fluttering back while she held the check up to her nose and sniffed his faint scent as a smile played over her lips.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d played mouse, but she took gloating pleasure in the image of her cat being the very worthy Creed. She was sure he was aware of the game this time around, but wasn’t sure just how he’d go about playing his turn. Flashes of the night before crossed her thoughts, vivid and fleeting but fixated on certain details. Like the hard, sinewy brawn of his body, and the heat of his mouth—vicious and soothing all at once. What lingered the longest, however, was how they fit against each other, almost like two missing puzzle pieces crafted from different materials but still meant to interlock together.

When she had woken still in his arms, something inside her had swelled, a sensation she hadn’t felt in a short eternity. Thinking of it made her bones itch, as if she was truly swelling from the pulsing rush of the memory. The current he stirred in her was undeniable.

Sure taking his check was petty, but she wouldn’t cash it. No, she’d taken it as a souvenir. A memento of his scent. Ferals and their goddamn scent-based memories…was it a wonder she took something? Sure, she’d guaranteed that she and Victor Creed would cross paths, sooner or later—but that’s not why she took it. No…after so many years, so many memories, she could barely remember Eirik. It hurt, not remembering him but thinking of him whenever she was so alone. To her, remembering and thinking of someone were two different things. To think of someone was to see them, but not feel them. Remembering was like an ocean of sensation, with every sense tantalized and engrained to the feeling of the memory. She didn’t remember Eirik…

If the universe prevented Victor Creed from crossing her path again, then she would at least have a way to remember.

Don’t be cruel to those who are cruel with mortality, fate.