A Feral Interlude

Disclaimer: Language, adult situations, explicit sex, graphic imagery, a pinch of angst, and some serious hormones. I do not own any aspect or character of the Marvel Universe nor elements of the X-Men Origins movieverse.
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A Feral Interlude: Possessive Reciprocity

“C'est impossible!” He yanked the phone off his desk and hurled it at the wall. It crashed and clattered to the floor while he fumingly paced the perimeter of his desk.

Armand had never felt such bone chilling fear in his entire life.

Khomeini was in Tehran. He didn’t know how he could’ve let such a glaring oversight slip past him. His plans were about to fall apart; years of negotiations, blackmailing, and payoffs were slowly going down the tubes. All because he’d been betrayed.

The cold fear became scalding rage. He hadn’t spent his entire life making himself into the man he was just to end up being made a jackass. Not by a fucking underling. Eduard Basset or whoever the fuck he was would pay dearly. He had just the person in mind to carry out the job.

Facing out the window at the glowing Eiffel Tower in the distance, Armand remembered his childhood. Living as an orphan in the ghettos just outside of Paris, he’d promised himself a better life, one where he’d rule over others and be treated more regally—a regular modern-day Algerian prince. He’d succeeded, so he wasn’t about to let it all slip away because of one greedy traître.

Idly scratching at his dark goatee, Armand stared out at the Parisian night as rancorous revenge seethed in his mind.

---------------

Fucking shitty-ass luck.

Victor set his jaw and tried not to break the nearest inanimate object as he glowered at the feral woman, who was poignantly ignoring him.

Things had been fucking great up until this stand off.

They’d spent the night fucking after moving from the couch to his bed. When he woke up, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find her lounging over his chest, awake and sated. After a round of morning sex, he let her slip away to jump into the shower. He joined her after watching her through the fogged up glass, and they’d soaped each other up. Her hands had lingered on him, soapy digits caressing him and riling him up for more. But he’d managed to control himself, leaving her to finish showering so he could dry off. When she was done, she pulled the towel wrapped around his waist and used it to dry off, watching as he unabashedly brushed his teeth and eyed her in the mirror. She’d leaned against the counter and sidled against him when he was done, snagging his toothbrush and smiling at him as she prepped to brush her own pearly whites. They’d done all of this in silence, their heated glances and playful gazes enough dialogue for the both of them.

Until they’d made it to the kitchen.

She’d started rummaging through the fridge to make breakfast, humming a whimsical little melody and wearing only his thermal sweater. When she turned to him and asked, “Are you craving something sweet?” her nipples were studded under the fabric of his sweater and her nude curvaceous form was silhouetted by the light in the fridge. Victor had practically pounced on her.

He’d taken her against the kitchen counter, her legs wrapped around him and her nails digging into his shoulders as they rutted into a hearty climax. Victor had groaned and clutched her waist as he nipped her neck and she gasped a contented sigh before nuzzling his throat. He’d felt absolutely high. She was the longest piece of ass he’d kept around, and he’d smugly griped to himself that he actually liked the monogamous novelty of it.

After he’d kissed her, twirling his tongue against hers, Victor had chuckled, “This is sweet enough, Izzie. Just the kind of sugar high I need to get through my trip.”

It had been a slip—what he gets for thinking with his dick.

Her sultry gaze had cooled into an icy stare.

“What trip?”

He’d told her offhandedly that he was going after the jack-offs that had targeted them, and she’d mildly asked, “You’re not intending to leave me here, are you?”

It had been viciously rhetorical, but Victor had stood back and gruffly snapped, “Well yeah.”

Isabela had pushed him back and had laid into him. Her seething barrage gave way to his sneers and threats and before long they were bickering like rabid lovers. They’d shouted and argued so ferociously that verbal blows substituted any physical roughhousing before they’d gone to separate corners and fumed lividly. And now here he was, glowering at her from where she was perched.

“You’re really pissing me off, viper” he growled dangerously, his hands clenching and unclenching. “Don’t make me come up there after you—!”

“Why? Who’s stopping you from taking your little trip? I’m not. Go ahead; walk out the door” she cut him off with an icily derisive huff and waved him away, giving him a sidelong glare as she cleaned under her talons.

He growled and stalked to his bedroom.

She heard drawers and doors being slammed, along with the thudding of his heavy foot falls and his angry muttering. If he thought she was going to stay up in this rafter while he walked out of the cabin he was a fucking jackass. As soon as he put his hand on that doorknob she was going to vault down and out the door before he even knew what happened. His feline agility was no match for her reptilian nimbleness, at least she was pretty damn sure it wasn’t—

He stalked back into the room, dressed and furious, but composed as he glared up at her. He knew she was waiting for him to wrap his hand around the doorknob. She was staring off to the side, but he could sense and smell her anticipation for him to be impetuous enough to take her challenge and try leaving. However, he was still mulling over her proposition from the night before. It had appealed to him—slightly. There was still no way to guarantee she’d keep up her end of the bargain, nor that he would for that matter. It wouldn’t be too much of a chore to bring her right back…at least he wasn’t too worried about the collateral damage it would take to do something like that a second time.

Victor huffed out of his nose and gave her a casual sneer, eyeing her with a leer.

“Come give us a kiss?”

Isabela dangled her leg over the rafter and hissed at him. “Fuck you, cub” she snarled before turning to glare at the opposite side, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of her seething anger.

He only chuckled and paced towards the door. “You have to come down from there to do that, viper” he flirted gruffly and leaned his shoulder into the front door. “I’m not going until you apologize like a good frail.”

Her appalled stare swept back down to him. He was grinning maliciously, arms crossed over his chest and dressed in his usual attire, save for his trench coat. The Man in Black, as usual.

“Apologize for fucking you, or for taking any of your shit?” she shot back with a cool air to her features.

The corner of his mouth twitched downward, but the nasty grin didn’t falter. “Being an ungrateful bitch, for one” he growled and narrowed his gaze, “and for sassing me in my domain. Anyone else would be a splattered mess where they stand, but I like playing with you, so I’ve been very generous. However, you keep talking to me like that and I’ll punish that mouth of yours until you choke. ”

“Hah” she snickered and tilted her head sardonically. “Go right ahead, see if you’ll have anything left afterwards” she hissed viciously and made her point by baring her lengthened Komodo-like teeth at him.

“Oh, I like it when you get feisty” he chuckled. She hissed and glared death at him. “You’re giving me a mean hard-on, sweetheart” he countered and added, “let’s skip the fighting and get to the make-up sex already.”

She wrinkled her nose at him and scoffed. He did smell of musky arousal and heady anger. The heat was coming off of him in waves she could perceive with her sharp pupils. She swiped her tongue over her carnivorous teeth before wetting her lips.

“Give me a reason to, cub.”

He snorted at that and trailed a claw along his jawline before rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. He smelled the sweet spice of her arousal flood her scent, erasing much of the seething anger she directed towards him.

“You said, if I considered a truce that you’d be mine.”

Isabela tilted her head, eyes focusing deftly on his. “I said if you considered it, that I would consider being yours…”

“Same difference, Izzie” he shot offhandedly and smirked.

“Goddammit, Victor! If you think I won’t tear out your larynx the minute you try to walk out of here without me you’re a fucking idiot! I’m not going to stay here and play house with you, let alone be so accommodating to your sexual appetites! I have places to go and people to fucking kill, and I’m not going to let you or any other goddamned bastard get between me and my plans” she barked mildly and before he could register her movement, she was in front of him, “Now…either you let me out of here, or I’m going to get wrist deep into your chest—”

Victor hauled her against him and cut her off with a hungry kiss. Isabela stiffened, a torrent of memories and feelings flooding her before she wavered and kissed him back—clutching at his black button-down shirt as he kissed the breath out of her.

She reluctantly pulled away from the kiss and pressed against him. “Is that a yes to the truce?”

He gave her a mischievous smirk before breezing past her and picking up the brown paper bag he’d left by the closet door. “Got these for you” he answered instead and tossed the bag to her. She caught it, surprised by the weight of it.

Her brow furrowed as she glanced at him and opened the bag to look inside. Pulling the brown boots out first, she dug into the bag and pulled out a pair of tanned corduroy pants, a lavender shirt with an embroidered picture of a white kitten on its back playing with a pink ball of yarn, and a garish pink cable-knit sweater. When she looked incredulously back at him, he had a lopsided smirk.

He’d had Camille, Rob’s pregnant mate, help him pick the tacky ensemble out. She’d waddled to their very limited section of clothes looking for anything that would fit the physical description he’d given of Isabela’s frame. Victor had openly laughed at the shirt, which had taken the pregnant frail off guard. Seeing Isabela’s expression made it all the more hysterical, but he only grinned at her expense.

“It was all they had that I thought would fit you” he shrugged and looped his thumbs into his jean pockets. “Not Madison Ave, but figured you’d make do.”

She looked at the kitten with the big glossy eyes before looking back at him. “Yes…thank you” she murmured as she walked towards him before hesitating with a skeptical look in her eyes.

“Well? Go put ‘em on. Curious to see if I got the sizes right” he remarked gruffly and gave her a Cheshire grin before adding, “All I had to go on was the feel of you in my hands and under me…”

She blushed at that before scoffing and walking towards the laundry room to retrieve her panties. As she headed to change in his bedroom she shouted, “So what’s the occasion?”

He could smell her speculating from where he stood. Strolling over to the mantle of the fireplace, he answered, “You kept complaining about not having clothes. Now you do.”

Isabela rolled her eyes as she pulled the shirt over her head. “Playing coy isn’t one of your strong suits, Victor” she called back as she wiggled into the corduroy pants and fastened them.

“Tell me again why I should trust you, Izzie?” his voice carried down the hallway, as did the smug air in his tone.

Gritting her teeth, Isabela pulled the boots on as she said, “We have to trust each other. We’re involved in this mess together, and working together is the only way to ensure we guard against another trap. If we don’t work together, we’re vulnerable to getting picked off—”

“Speak for yourself” he interrupted brashly.

Pulling the atrocious pink sweater on and making her way down the hallway towards the living room, Isabela snapped, “Do you want to be another government pet, Victor? I have a feeling that whoever targeted us isn’t in the business of giving mutants a long leash and a whole list of privileges if they’re obedient little soldiers. I have avoided being anyone’s science experiment or puppet for this long, and I’m NOT going to let your impetuous bullshit screw—”

She halted in mid berate when she saw Victor leaning against the open front door, his hand resting on the doorknob casually as the hem of his trench coat fluttered slightly from the cold breeze blowing through the doorway.

Feline agility indeed…She couldn’t believe how stealthy he could be when he wanted to. He’d been talking her up so she would be too busy heatedly arguing with him to notice his movement through the cabin. She couldn’t help the smirk that quirked her lips.

Victor took her in. She looked like a model dressed like an ice cream cone in all the pink and brown. The corduroy pants were a snug fit on her, while the atrocious sweater clung loosely to her. He could tell that the shirt practically molded to her supple breasts from the plumpness of her cleavage hidden under the knit sweater. The ensemble was a glaring contradiction of Isabela’s style and he couldn’t help an irreverent chuckle as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“This ‘nuff of an answer for you, viper?” he mused and gestured derisively to the doorway as he stepped away and held the door open.

She strutted over to him and stopped short of walking out the door. She slinked towards him and mused, “You’re such a precocious cub. How do I know you’ll behave?”

“You don’t” he leaned in and husked against her lips. “Same way I’m not sure yer trustworthy. Figure we can both afford to take a chance” he growled and trailed the tip of his tongue along the peaks of his upper fangs.

Her gaze narrowed provocatively as she murmured, “The perks of being indestructible give both of us leeway, I agree…”

The animal allure was like a buzzing current between them as Isabela strutted out the door and down the porch steps. He swiped his tongue along his bottom lip as he flicked the lights off and shut the door behind him without ever taking his eyes off her succulent ass in the tight corduroys as he followed her to the jeep.

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“Christ woman, it’s like a fucking oven in here!” Victor grumbled and switched the heater to the lowest gauge possible and tugged on the collar of his shirt.

He glanced at her derisively and saw she was still shivering from the cold. He thought about digging the blanket out of the trunk, but figured she’d wrinkle her nose at it. They were driving down the winding snow-covered path that led down the mountain from his cabin into town. Her legs were tucked under her and her arms were huddled tightly around her. She looks like a regular frail, until she shot him a blistering glare with those exotic preternatural eyes of hers.

“If you’re cold, you can snuggle up for warmth” he sneered mockingly and shot her a leer as he stretched his arm along the back of the bench seat. Isabela scoffed and rubbed her palms along her arms, refusing to shuffle closer to him.

“How far are we from the nearest town?” she asked instead and craned her neck so she could stare out the passenger window.

He snorted. “What’s it matter? We’re driving straight through” he replied, watching the road.

“I need to make a phone call.”

He glanced at her and laughed. “Who the hell to? I got a plan—”

“I’ve dealt with your half-assed plans enough, thank you. I have my own contingencies. Finesse is the optimum necessity for this—”

“So ‘optimum’ that you want me to stop at a hick-ass town so you can make a call from a fucking pay phone?” he barked derisively. “Finesse my ass!”

She was glaring daggers at him, but he was growing to like her riled up and exasperated. Made the sex even hotter.

“This isn’t a good start to our arrangement” she hissed and reached over to blast the heater.

Victor snarled and turned the gauge so hard that it snapped off in his hand. He snickered and tossed it to her. “No fucking shit” he growled and put both hands on the wheel, gripping it while she tried to force the gauge back onto the spindle with composed anger.

Finding it useless, she sighed and tossed it to the floor and tried to keep warm. The radio was turned low on some crackling station, so she leaned over and started fiddling with the dials.

“Do you have to screw with everything?” he grumbled and shot her an acerbic glare.

Ignoring him, she tuned into several stations before hearing a familiar melodic rift and metallic percussion. Her fingers stopped and she let the station buzz through.

“—When the truth is found to be lies
and all the joy within you dies
don't you want somebody to love
don't you need somebody to love
wouldn't you love somebody to love
you better find somebody to love”

Victor listened to the song, a flood of memories pouring over him like ice water. He reached over to turn the station when her hand snapped up and stopped him. When he whipped his head around to give her a dangerous look, he saw how transfixed she was.

“Don’t” she murmured and pulled his hand down to her lap when she shuffled closer to the radio.

“—your eyes, I say your eyes may look like his [yeah]
but in your head baby I'm afraid you don't know where it is
don't you want somebody to love
don't you need somebody to love
wouldn't you love somebody to love
you better find somebody to love”

Victor exhaled sharply through his nose and squeezed her thigh so his claws would prick through her pants. “I fucking hate this song” he growled contemptuously.

That’s when she looked up at him. “Why?”

He huffed, thankful that the song was almost over. “Fucking reminds me of shittier days. I hate all that hippie bullshit” he grumbled and pulled his hand away to grip the steering wheel again.

Isabela smiled self-deprecatingly. “I was a hippie, Victor.”

He whipped his head back to stare at her before focusing back on the road. “Bullshit” he spat with amusement.

“Yes…I take it you were in Vietnam?” she asked and went back to rubbing her palms along her arms.

He didn’t answer, just eyed her with a sardonic sneer. “So you were running around like an idiot making flower garlands and rolling down hills?”

She chuckled. “No. I came back to the states, and loved the culture. It was so… crudely decadent. It was very sensualist and organic. The music and the openness—it was the closest thing to a utopian ideal realized. I went to Woodstock, saw people making love in nature and dancing in the mud…then I went to Altamonte and watched these same creatures murder each other. It was such fun” she concluded and noticed he was glancing at her intently.

The radio station announcer named the Jefferson Airplane song and introduced the next song as the acoustic melody began to play.

“One morning I woke up and I knew
You were really gone
A new day, a new way, and new eyes
To see the dawn.
Go your way, I'll go mine and
Carry on”

After the first chorus, Victor pensively muttered as he drove, “Me and Jimmy were trudging through rice paddies and over bodies most of the time. When we weren’t on recon or getting shot at, we were at camp having to deal with the muggy heat and the fucking bugs. There was always some punk-ass kid playing a radio somewhere, and sometimes they’d start roaring the lyrics like a bunch of goddamned fuckwits. On one of the last helicopter rides we took into the jungle, some dumbass was blasting that song, and all I could think was: “Love’s got nothing to do with it.” Stupid fucker ended up with his brains blown out. Jimmy got all sentimental about it, and I had to remind him what we were there for…”

“—The fortunes of fables are able
To sing the song
Now witness the quickness with which
We get along
To sing the blues you've got to live the dues and
Carry on”

“And what was that?”

He glanced at her, as if he’d forgotten she was there over his thoughts and the Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young song.

Huffing gruffly, he turned his eyes back onto the road and saw the lights of the town through the early morning haze and snow fall. “To kill—what we do best.”

She knew she’d hit a nerve, so she let the conversation drop when he didn’t elaborate. They drove in silence up until they started nearing the town.

“Where could I find a phone at this time?” she inquired as she looked out the window at all the shops and the few cars that barreled and plowed through the snow.

“I was fucking wondering how long it was gonna take you” he grumbled scathingly and shot her a glare. “We’re not stopping, viper—!”

“What the fuck is your plan then, hm?!” she shot back at him and glared at him intently.

He looked at her sharply and looked back towards the road. “We get out of this fucking storm and head south. Then we play it by ear” he said with irrefutable matter-of-factness.

She scoffed snidely. “Do you even know what the hell we’re supposed to do? Who we’re supposed to track down? Or are you going to just prowl around until you get lucky” she chided and crossed her arms to prevent her shivers from being so noticeable.

They were entering the main street of the town and he was heading towards the intersection where he had to veer off and head up towards the interstate entrance. “Your employer is some asshole called ‘The Frenchman’; real fucking original” he remarked with a surly edge and added, “to get to him we have to find some pinhead named Basset, and after we find him we track down your asshole—!”

“Ay Dios mío” she hissed with exasperation, “First of all, wherever you’re getting your intel from is subpar at best. If you stop so I can make a phone call we won’t need to go around in all those fucking circles! Just listen for once and stop being such a stubborn jackass!”

Victor was ignoring her contumely with every ounce of patience he had as he made his way towards the interstate entrance only to find it blocked off by a sheriff cruiser and a deputy that was flagging him down. Victor growled irately and braked hard, practically sending Isabela to sprawl off the bench seat and forcing her to cling to his shoulder and arm for leverage.

Setting his jaw and glaring at her warningly, he rolled his window down for the jerk-off deputy. “Hey folks! Sorry to say ya’ll have to head back to town and wait things out; a damn truck crashed against the barricade up on the highway and they’re still clearing the lanes.”

“How long will it be, officer?” Isabela piped in before Victor could open his mouth, earning her a crass glare that she poignantly ignored as she smiled dazzlingly at the deputy.

The man flushed, and not just from the cold. “W-Well ma’am, they estimate it’ll take a couple hours more. They’ve been working on it since before dawn.”

Victor’s expression darkened with a murderous glint. Isabela dug her nails into his shoulder and leaned against him. “Aw, hun, we’ll just have to go back to town then. Oh, would you know the nearest establishment that would be open and have a working telephone I could use, officer?” she inquired congenially, feeling Victor’s ire flare as he glared at her and glanced at the ga-ga eyed deputy.

“Oh, yes I would! You just head right back down to the intersection, take a left back onto main street, and head over to the 24-hour emporium. The folks who run it are real hospitable to travelers stranded by the storm. They have a working phone that they’ll allow you to use if you’re a paying customer—!”

“Yeah sounds good, thanks” Victor cut in with a surly edge and shifted into reverse, skidding back and around towards the intersection. “Fucking pissant” he growled and hastily rolled up his window. He glared haughtily at Isabela who had slinked back towards her passenger door with an aloof air. “Real fucking cute. We don’t have to take the highway; there’s a few country roads I can take” he grumbled more to himself than to her as he started heading down north main street.

“Stop at the 24-hour emporium” she ordered simply and stared out the window, looking for the establishment in question.

“You’re really asking for it, princess” he snarled viciously and drove down the street. The emporium was on his side, so he was hoping she wouldn’t start bitching too much as they drove past it—

The sound of the car door opening and the flash of movement out of his peripheral vision made him stomp on the brakes and glimpse just as she rounded around the back of the car and sprinted agilely across the street towards the parking lot of the emporium.

“GODDAMMIT!” he roared and reached over to slam her door shut and drive after her.

Isabela cleared the street and sprinted through the piled snow into the parking lot and up to the rustic establishment. She breezed through the door and looked around for the telephone. Seeing it was locked up, she slinked through a group of customers towards the counter. A lovely blond woman was at the cash register while a tall and muscular man stacked the shelves just behind her. The cherub-faced woman looked up and saw her coming.

“Hello” Isabela greeted and rubbed her hands up and down her arms for warmth as the woman smiled and greeted her. “I was wondering if I may use your telephone?” she asked and got the attention of the tall man who came up to see if his wife needed help.

“Well we’d be happy to, miss, but we have a policy about letting paying customers use the phone” the man said as he scratched at his stubbled jawline.

“Oh” Isabela piped and mentally cursed. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money—”

“Is it an emergency?” the woman asked and pressed her hand on the small of her back. “Rob, let her use the phone real quick. We’re not too busy” she cajoled to her husband and absently caressed the swell of her womb.

Just as the man felt caught between the gazes of the two women, his eye line went up over Isabela’s head.

“She’s with me, Rob” the deep rumble of his composed voice was directly behind her as the heavy hand clamped over her shoulder and herded her against his side. Isabela silently gritted her teeth as Victor leaned in and said loud enough for the other couple to hear, “If you’d waited for me, I would’ve told you that you left your wallet in the car, babe. But you’re so impatient.”

Isabela saw the quizzical look the other couple exchanged at the sinisterly sadistic undertone of his remark, so she seamlessly smiled and turned to lean up and plant a chaste kiss on Victor’s lips. “Oh I know, hun, but you kept complaining so I figured I’d just come in and make a phone call” she affectionately beamed and caressed his furred cheek, giving him a tantalizing look. Victor looked taken aback.

“Hey, Vic. I take it this is who you were shopping for yesterday” Rob remarked jovially and snickered to his wife. “See, Camille? She’s wearing the outfit you helped him pick out.”

“Oh, yes I’m happy it all fit you just fine” the blond smiled. “If you’re together then Rob surely won’t protest about you using the phone. Let me get the key” she stated and got the key ring from under the counter.

“Thank you” Isabela replied and fiddled with the lapels of Victor’s coat while he shot her an irascible glare. “Sorry if Victor was trouble for you. Instead of waking me up to come with him yesterday, he decided to leave me behind while he ran errands” Isabela offered affectionately and felt his nails dig warningly into her shoulder.

“Oh it’s no trouble, miss?”

“Isabela” she responded and shook Rob’s hand and then his wife’s as Victor looked skeptically dubious behind her. She rested her hand over the one gripping on her shoulder and squeezed, “Nice to meet you both. We were heading out of town and were stopped by the accident, so I thought I’d call my friend and let him know we’d be late” she explained. “Be right back” she gave Victor a peck on the lips and swiftly detached herself from his side to walk over to the phone booth with Camille.

He set his jaw and watched her and the pregnant frail walk and talk, peeved and turned on by her audaciousness.

“She’s a pretty little number, Vic” Rob whistled and leant on his forearms over the counter to watch the two women. Victor grunted noncommittally and raised a brow. “How long you’ve been together?”

Victor didn’t even glance at the other man, intently watching Isabela. “Not long enough” he replied, and the double meaning of his statement weighed on him.

---------------

When Isabela hung up the phone, she shucked the booth door open and walked out. Camille waddled back over and locked the booth once she was done tidying up a display.

“You know, Victor has always unnerved me a bit, but seeing you two together made me realize he’s just an intense guy” Camille confided to her with a silly smile. “He seems to really like you” she added and Isabela laughed.

“You think so?” she mused and glanced over at him. His gaze connected with hers. He was ruggedly handsome, a man sculpted out of muscle and brawn with a brooding essence he submerged under a wicked demeanor and a sadistic charm. Clad in black, he was the epitome of darkness—of the unpredictable and wild. He seemed to want to invoke death itself, to represent a primal force hidden in the flesh and blood of his being and channeled in the cold steel of his eyes.

“Yeah, you can tell in the way that he looks at you” Camille remarked and caught them staring at each other.

“I’m sure he looks at everyone like that” Isabela mused and smiled thoughtfully.

“Oh” Camille waved her modesty away, “he looks at everyone else like he wants to eat them or just laugh in their face. When he looks at you, he looks like he wants to keep you locked away like a princess in a tower and keep you all to himself—oh gosh, forgive me for being so blunt!” The woman fretted embarrassedly and absently caressed her womb.

Isabela looked at Camille and smiled. “Don’t be. It’s always nice to get an outside perspective…”

“You done?”

She glanced towards Victor and saw the surly tension around his eyes. “Yes—”

“Then let’s get the fuck out of Dodge” he gruffly muttered and took her arm.

Isabela rolled her eyes and curled into his side, relishing in his furnace-like warmth. “It was nice meeting you, Camille. And I promise you: It’s a girl” she said and waved as Victor nodded his terse goodbyes to the frail and her mate back at the register.

He’d caught the tail end of their conversation. It pissed him off that the little frail thought she could pick up on his intentions…let alone that she was pretty damned close to the mark.

They’d stalked back to his parked jeep through the snow. When they got to the driver’s side, he grabbed and pinned her against the cold and wet door before lowering to be nose-to-nose with her.

“You pull a fucking stunt like that again, and I’ll skin you” he snarled viciously.

Isabela grabbed fistfuls of his lapels and pulled him closer. “No, you ever try to compromise my goals again, and I’ll castrate you” she hissed maliciously and kissed him.

He kissed her back and clawed his hands down her sides before pulling her against him. They kissed angrily until the snow that was gathering on their clothes and hair started melting and running down their skin and soaking through their clothes. It took all of Victor’s willpower to yank the door open, shove her into the car and climb in after her without immediately jumping her bones.

He revved the engine on and pulled out of the parking lot while she hung on and gripped the side panel handlebar for leverage.

“There’s a fucking diner down the road we’re going to stop at. We’ll eat and yer gonna tell me who the fuck you called and what you found out” he barked tersely and tried to adjust the hem of his fly so it wouldn’t dig into him.

The interior was getting heavy with their scents and desires. “Fine, but from here on out, we do things my way. We’ve done it your way this far” she stated mildly and shuffled close to him for warmth. Her lips brushed his furred jaw when he turned a spiteful stare at her. “You’ll like my way, Victor. I promise” she mused and burrowed her face into the side of his neck after winding her arms around his shoulders.

Victor growled under his breath and wound his arm around her, keeping her against his side as he drove. “You break that promise and I’ll break you” he muttered against her ear, the viciousness empty from his husky tone.

---------------

“—It’s an alias he’s been using for as long as he’s worked for you. Everything about him is counterfeit; some of the best work I’ve seen, but nonetheless, ‘Basset’ is just a name. He’s already dumped the alias and has moved to NYC. All signs point to him being a mutant. Would explain how the oversight could’ve slipped by…”

The Frenchman was an unscrupulous-looking arab pig, and if it was possible he looked like he was going to self-destruct from the information he’d just relayed.

“I want him dealt with. You deliver me his head, and I’ll pay you a bonus” the livid man in the tuxedo snarled at the mercenary dressed in black sitting across from him in the limo. “Just have it done before the holiday. I don’t want this lingering into the New Year” he ordered as he prepped a Cuban cigar.

“Fine. Any souvenirs you’d like besides the head?” the thick-skinned mutant inquired in a monotone.

“Just wipe him out—whoever or whatever he is! I want him annihilated for the mess he made of my plans. Use whatever methods you’d like. Just do it soon” he stated contumely and lit his cigar and buzzed his driver so he’d pull over. “You’ll be paid once you deliver me the head” he stated with arrogant resolve and puffed on the cigar as the other man let himself out of the limo.

Jin Kazuya stood on the curb of the Rue Paradise and watched the stretch limo zoom down the street before casually walking the opposite way with his hands in his pockets. The frigid winter air didn’t even bother him, nor did the fact that he stood out from the bundled up Parisian street traffic. He figured he had enough time to rent a girl for the hour and make the next red-eye to JFK, so he strolled to the closest broker club to get an innocent girl to have fun with. He’d wash off whatever was left of said girl, pay his tab, and head to the airport with his head totally on the routine job. The monotony of it all didn’t bother him as much as it should, so he figured after he delivered the Frenchman his souvenir he’d consider heading back to Taiwan for some R&R.

Unbeknownst to Jin Kazuya, the monotony of his work would be as fleeting as his rented pleasure 24 hours from now.

---------------

“Are you gonna eat that?” Victor asked after gulping down yet another cup of coffee, pointing to her sausage links with his fork.

She shuffled the plate to him and leant against the wall so she could watch him devour the meat. He ate with voracious appetite while she drummed her nails on the table and watched him.

“So are you going to make any comments, or are you waiting to get back into the car” she sardonically questioned, picking a piece of pink lint off of his shoulder.

He pushed the collection of empty plates away from him and sat back, draping his arm along the back of the booth seat they were sharing. “You seem to have it all figured out well enough” he mocked smoothly and took up the little free space between them as he got comfortable. “It’s your show now, Izzie. I’m content to go along for the ride” he mused and leaned close to her to hiss leeringly, “cuz you know things’ll change once this is over and dealt with.”

She raised a delicate eyebrow at him and mused, “I take it you already have something in mind…”

“Oh, maybe something along the lines of an exotic animal kept in captivity and away from prying eyes, cuz the ‘princess-in-a-tower’ thing doesn’t seem to suit you” he growled and chuckled when she had to press herself flush against the wall just to look up at him.

“I guess a woman’s intuition is pretty accurate” she quipped.

“Not quite” he replied and dragged his claws down her clothed arm. She tried not to react to the stimulating touch, but failed as she shivered. “What else did you and the pregnant frail talk about? Tell her how I had to shop for you cuz I tore what little clothes you had off?” he husked against her temple and glanced at the fucking humans that were staring or pretending not to be glancing at them.

They’d been staring since they walked into the crowded diner. He was used to the stares, but after a few moments he realized they were mostly staring at her, as if wondering what she was doing with him. Most of the patrons were locals, so they were smart enough to divert their eyes once he shot them a glare, but a good handful were tourists or people passing through, so their curious and scrutinizing glances and stares were on them regardless of how intimidating he was. She seemed completely unfazed. Her gait and her poise was smooth and confident, her smile and her demeanor dazzling as they’d walked to the back of the diner to the last booth. The only time her veneer faltered was when he took her by the arm and ushered her into the seat facing the restaurant and slid in after her. She’d given him a haughty look, and he’d trailed his hand around her and down her shoulder, a show of his possession; he owned her, everyone knew she was his, even the little kids that had been herded into their chairs and hushed to not stare. The waitress had taken one look at him and then darted a worried look at the woman boxed in with him, and automatically known she wasn’t human—must’ve been her long pointed nails or her preternatural eyes. He loved to see the look on a human’s face when they realized a mutant was in their mist, let alone two mutants. The fear and apprehension flooded the air like the gush of an air freshener. Most of the patrons could sense that they were predators—were unnerved by how imposing and intimidating he was while she acted like a poised goddess with an amiable smile.

He was overt while she was covert. The contradiction was confusing, and the only thing keeping people in check from staring too long or sneering at them.

“That didn’t come up, at least not quite” she answered and drummed her nails on the counter again. His eyes focused on her again, and she smiled. “She asked why I didn’t have any clothes, so I said that I flew in during the storm and the airline lost my bag” she remarked and added, “she apologized for only having these tacky clothes in the shop, and told me you had laughed when she picked out the shirt.”

He snickered and flashed a grin. “I thought she was gonna have a seizure” he chuckled. “How d’you know it’ll be a girl?” he asked and leaned on the table to idly scrape at a chip in the wood.

She watched him start carving idly into the counter as she spoke, “I’ve had a lot of practice…it’s all in a woman’s scent. Ferals can smell when a woman’s pregnant even when she isn’t showing. Their scent gets overly ripe, like fruit that’s about to spoil” when he grunted in agreement, she added, “the baby’s scent starts showing in the mother’s after the sixth month. The closest thing I can compare it to is burnt cinnamon for a girl and a tart musk for a boy. Must be because of the levels of testosterone or estrogen” she shrugged.

Glancing away from the spiral pattern he’d just finished carving with his index claw, he said, “So she smelled sweet.”

“Yes. It’s hard to sift out, but after a short little millennia, it gets very perceivable” she mused and took a drink from her coffee cup.

He stared impassively at her and sat back. She looked at the doodles he’d carved into the counter and snickered. A few spirals and a happy face were permanently etched in the wood. She caressed her fingertips over them and traced the happy face with the tip of her index talon.

“You’re only giving them more reason to stare you know” she murmured.

He huffed derisively at that. Just when he wondered if she could be oblivious to it, she proved that she was hyperaware of everything and just didn’t show it. She didn’t acknowledge anything unless she wanted to.

“Haven’t done anything yet” he growled sadistically and leaned in. “But I could give these pissants a real show” he husked and tipped her chin up with his deft fingers, “S’been a while since I’ve fucked in public.”

Isabela squeezed his wrist and closed her eyes against the sensations all around her: the smells, the stares, his enticing heat, his scintillating scent, and the primal shudder that buzzed through her. When she opened her eyes again, Victor saw the heat in her frondy depths and it made his cock swell in the confines of his jeans. She smiled, able to practically taste his desire while he pawed his hand down her thigh and kneaded his way back up under the table. Isabela countered by pulling his hand away from gripping her chin so she could lean in and brush her lips against his.

“And it’s going to be a while longer” she purred against his lips and smiled when he smirked lasciviously at her.

A flash went off in front of them and they both turned blinking eyes at the source of the bright light. A girl with big brown eyes, pigtails, and a crooked smile still held her Polaroid camera up as the picture whirred out of the slot. Her mother had gone to the restroom so the precocious girl had peered over the back of her booth to watch the interesting couple canoodle.

She giggled when she pulled the picture and watched it develop. “That’s a funny shot!” she piped and directed her big brown eyes at Isabela then to Victor. The surprise had dissipated from the exotic woman’s face while his remained a glowering dark scowl. The little girl seemed unfazed as she looked over her shoulder and saw her mother coming back. “Here! Before my mommy sees” she confided and lurched over the chair, pressed the picture down on their table and clambered back into her seat just before her mother could catch her.

The harried mother collected her daughter quickly and dragged her away by her hand while the little girl turned her head back and waved at them. Victor looked angrily bewildered that he clearly wasn’t scary enough for the kid before noticing that Isabela was waving back with a sly little smile.

She snatched the picture up and looked at it. “Quite the little photographer” she mused and showed him the picture.

He plucked it out of her fingers with the tips of his claws and glowered at the image. If it weren’t for her brilliant preternatural eyes and his wicked fangs, they’d look like any other couple. Her lips were pursed in an amused smile, her eyes sultrily looking into his while he smirked debonairly with more than savage desire twinkling in his eyes. Victor snorted and shoved the picture into the interior pocket of his coat. “What’re the logistics?” he grumbled instead and directed a sharp look at the waitress for the check.

Isabela smirked and squeezed his muscular thigh affectionately. “Drive west to the biggest city. We’ll be on a jet before the day’s out” she replied simply and shuffled out of the booth once he paid the check. The staring followed them right out to the door, compounded by the fact that Victor had snaked his arm around her waist and had possessively led her out with a gloating look in his eyes. She rolled her eyes at him when they were back in the car. “I know it must be real frustrating not to be able to scratch ‘Property of Victor Creed’ all over me, but do you have to act like I’m your plaything?” she sighed and fiddled with the radio as he drove them towards the entrance to the interstate.

“What’re you talking about” he chuckled, “I was just trying to keep you warm.”

She shot him a cynical look. “Sure. Short of marking your territory on me” she mused and started to shiver.

Victor grunted with humor and reached over to grab her arm and pull her over as he drove. She gasped when he pressed her against his side and held her there by clamping his hand around her shoulder and onto her right breast. “I hate seeing a woman shiver, especially if it isn’t from something I did” he chuckled sinisterly and squeezed her breast.

She huffed and tried getting comfortable by shrugging his heavy hand away and curling into his side. His scent was spiced with arousal and smugness, so she pressed her palm over his crotch as she adjusted herself next to him. His intake of breath was sharp and through his nose. “Oops, forgive me” she mocked prettily and buried her nose against the spot just under his jaw. “Ah, much better. You’re so warm, cub” she murmured against his neck before sighing contentedly.

“Nothing’s stopping me from pulling over and fucking you in the snow, Izzie” he warned hotly as he drove and she wound her arms around his torso.

“I know, and I’m sure you could keep me very warm regardless, Victor” she sighed and he felt her soft lips brush his pulse before she relaxed against him.

Damn straight.

---------------

They’d driven straight through to the nearest metropolitan city. Isabela had dozed most of the way, snuggled against his side. It was a habit of hers to seek a heat source when she slept, and Victor was a virtual furnace of body heat. He liked it, and he was perturbed that the novelty of it all was becoming something he thoroughly wanted. He shouldn’t like it. Not that he liked the sentimentality or the gushy airy fairy fulfillment of having her in his arms; of enjoying the warmth of her kisses and her soft gaze, and her smiles and playful hands. Those were just…a bonus of having the ferocious woman all for himself—he shouldn’t like the attachment that all of it created.

His instincts had never involved possessiveness, at least not entirely. He’d been possessive of his brotherhood—of Jimmy. But that was a possessiveness garnered by blood ties, by their shared natures and the nurturing and protection he’d given to his brother. He’d been protective of Jimmy, so much so that he’d alienated him somehow, scared him off because he’d sacrificed for Jimmy until all he had was his instincts, his rage, and his bloodlust. But at the end of the day, everything he did for Jimmy had been in a vain and callous sense of protectiveness, but protectiveness nonetheless.

What he felt towards Isabela was different. He wanted to possess her—wanted to keep her and make her his because he could have her without worrying about breaking her or driving her away. She was the ultimate prize: a creature like him, permanent and ferocious. Unlike Jimmy, she embraced the animal and shared his predatory gusto. He could make attachments to her, no matter how irrational and foolhardy it was. He knew he could make her happy—make her his. But the risks left him wary, not just because he’d have to force her into submission but because in order to do so he’d have to compromise with himself—with the animal.

As they left his car in a secure parking complex, Victor fought the urge to grab her hand; to pull her against him or just keep her at his side. He was conflicted, and it pissed him off. Bottom line was, he didn’t know the difference between wanting her and having her; of whether he wanted to own her as his mate or selfishly keep her as his peerless plaything. She was his equal, but he didn’t think in those terms. He wanted her, but didn’t know how he would have her. It made him feel tangled up between his urges, instinct, and determination. It all came down to the possessive reciprocity between them. Her words came undone like a ribbon. I’m tired of wondering, of traveling the world and finding nothing—no one else. In all my wanderings, all I’ve come to know of myself is that I’m a predator…

Before he knew it, they had entered an austere building with no distinguishing façade. Isabela walked up to the concierge podium that was in front of the elevators and spoke fluent Portuguese to the stout-looking man at the station. He looked at her a little quizzically before looking over at Victor.

The tall feral kept his expression implacably cool while the man looked back at Isabela and asked for something. She must’ve dropped an important name, cuz the guy snapped to attention and nodded, going to the elevator and inserting his key to open it for them. She glanced at Victor and strutted into the elevator. He scoffed and followed closely, looming over her as the elevator door whirred closed and started descending.

“These tacky clothes are getting in my way” she huffed sardonically and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

He grabbed her hand before it descended and brought it to his lips. “Then lets get you out ‘em” he purred and pulled her against him as he nipped the heel of her hand and licked the healing wound.

“Oh, we will” she announced and nuzzled his throat just before the elevator dinged and the doors opened on an underground parking garage.

Isabela breezed out of his grasp while Victor looked curiously at their surroundings. Just outside of the elevator was a well dressed guy who stood as if he was a sentinel waiting for a command.

“Something sleek and red, please” Isabela ordered simply. The man nodded and went on his way down a corridor tucked out of sight. She turned when Victor grunted. He looked intrigued, but nothing else as he pulled her over to his side and pressed his fingers against the base of her spine, a possessive and affectionate gesture of dominance.

He was growing on her. The more they were together, the more she found herself seeking him out, and not just for his warmth. Somehow, it had become a comfort to be in his arms, which wouldn’t have resonated so strongly with her if it only involved sex. But their car ride had been the most calming moment between them. Like her, he enjoyed the silence that would reign, useless chatter unnecessary and banal compared to the comfort of another’s presence. It was a comfortable quiet that was so soothing and satiating that nothing much mattered, save for the heat of his body and the pulse of his heartbeat.

She loved being in his arms--loved when he enveloped her in his possessive embraces that even he didn’t comprehend the meaning of.

When a sleek and crimson 1978 Ferrari revved up a ramp and taxied in front of them, Isabela detached herself from his side and walked around to the driver’s side. She thanked the valet and slid in. Victor got in and huffed at the slight crampness of the passenger’s seat before he got situated.

“Lucky I’m not claustrophobic” he grumbled.

Isabela smirked, revved the engine and took off, racing through the underground lot before going up to the surface ramp. Victor absently grabbed the door handle and held on as she drove with the grace of Formula 1 racer with no regard for the speed limit or the rest of traffic.

She cleared the freeway and careened into the swanky side of the city in less than 5 minutes, parking the Ferrari by the curb of a lavish looking boutique. They got out of the car and Victor popped the kinks out of his shoulders by rolling them back. He noticed the no parking sign and raised a brow at her.

“Government tags” she replied and pointed at the seal on the windshield and on the license tag before strutting into the boutique.

Victor followed her in and immediately felt out of place. All the delicate displays and racks and the pristine white of fabrics and pastels made him want to lurk right back out into the dreary afternoon outside. Isabela must’ve sensed as much, cuz she grabbed his wrist and held him to her side, flexing her fingers around his pulse just as a man dressed head to toe in Hugo Boss came over to greet her like she was royalty.

“Signorina ‘Bella! It’s been too long” the dapper man with a Mediterranean accent greeted and practically ushered them in as he trailed a covert glance up and down Victor. “Please, come to the showroom! I have some lovely things I’ve kept just for you. Would you and your gentleman care for some champagne?”

“A glass for me, Renoir, and a Heineken for him” Isabela replied and followed the man to the guest showroom.

Victor grunted at that, not sure how he felt about her speaking for him. Any displeasure was squashed when she turned a sultry look back at him and reached for his hand again. He took it and sunk the tips of his claws into the back of her hand, marking her for only a few seconds. She squeezed his hand with affection and her sultry look darkened hotly. Something told him she didn’t extend such gestures too often, if at all to anyone else, and that made him savagely proud. He then realized that like him, most of her suitors probably didn’t live too long to begin with, let alone to get such a personal side of her.

Victor enjoyed watching her. She was so fucking confident, so statuesque and regal but absolutely alluring. She governed respect, even when dressed like a silly snow bunny. Especially with men. They watched her like she was an oasis in an arid desert, treated her like she was a goddess incarnate, and that’s all without her rapture pheromone. Men wanted to cater to her just for the privilege of her gaze.

It made him itch with jealousy. His smirk was biting as they sat on an opulent alabaster couch and sipped on their drinks while the guy went to fetch the garments. “Permanent rapture for this guy, huh” he muttered before taking a long drink of his beer.

Isabela pursed her lips comically at him. “Are you jealous, Victor?” she mocked prettily and sidled close to him just before his ire could rise, purring, “if anyone should be jealous it’s me.”

He cocked his head to the side in confusion just as the guy came back in with racks and racks of clothes. “These were all the rage in Milan during fashion week. I think the rich palette will work beautifully with your complexion” the man in the tailored suit said as he wheeled the rack of fall colors towards the pedestal in front of the mirror.

Isabela walked towards the curtained dressing room and waved at the man reassuringly. “I trust your judgment, Renoir. Just get me out of these goddamned clothes” she affably chuckled as she pulled off the ugly pink sweater and tossed it to the floor.

Renoir wrinkled his nose and made a grand gesture of disgust. “I was trying so hard not to say something nasty, signorina” he snickered and started going through the rack. “Who dressed you in such a god awful Appalachian mess?” he lulled sarcastically in his Italian accent as he picked a dress out and inspected it.

“I did” Victor announced with a snide grin.

The man practically tripped over himself when he looked back at the surly Adonis dressed in black on the white couch. The intimidating feral watched the blood leech out of the man’s face as he stammered an apology and stared at his claws, as if seeing them for the first time.

“Stop picking on Renoir, Victor. He’s right and you know it. I look like I fell into a bargain bin at the Salvation Army” she quipped from behind the curtain and waved the man over.

Victor snorted. “Dress her in something that’ll be easy to take off, and I’ll let the transgression slip” he smirked and cracked his knuckles before lounging with his hands interlocked behind his head. The guy stared a bit before handing Isabela the outfit and excusing himself.

Victor growled. The guy didn’t smell right. Apprehensive, yeah, but something else…

The curtain snapped open to reveal Isabela clad in a mini dress with gathered bust and asymmetrical bottom hem in a deep burgundy. His mouth watered at the sight. She strutted to the pedestal and stood on it, admiring herself in the triple mirrors. “God…” she admonished under her breath and kept looking at herself in the mirror.

“Don’t tell me yer gonna say you don’t like it” Victor drawled tersely and raked his gaze up her curvaceous body appreciatively.

“Oh no, the dress is lovely. It’s Renoir” she snickered and turned to look at him. “You must be his type” she smirked as she started undoing the strap behind her neck.

“Ah hell” Victor sneered and darted a dirty look at the door as he stood up and prowled towards her. “Hurry the hell up then, before I gut the fruitcake” he growled against her shoulder and dragged his claws down her back.

She shivered and gave him a chiding glare in the mirror. “You’ll do no such thing! And don’t rush me. I need a little luxury after slumming it with you” she teased and turned around to face him, smiling at the fact that she was an inch taller than him standing on the pedestal.

He caressed his hands up her thighs and around to cup her ass under the dress. “You spoiled bitch” he grinned nastily and tugged dangerously on the fabric of her panties with his claws, “You forget whose gonna pay for this sexy little dress?”

She leaned into him so her cleavage was just below his chin. “I haven’t picked a dress yet” she purred and stepped off the pedestal, slipping down his body purposely before wrapping her arms around his neck. “And who said you’d be paying?”

He wanted to fuck the hell out of her. Right then and there—against the fucking mirrors even, and she knew it. He was damned sure she wanted him to by how mouth watering her scent was.

“I got a gorgeous pair of Italian leather that’d look perfect on you signori—oh, didn’t mean to interrupt!” the man walked in on them practically eye-fucking each other and up against each other.

He blushed and was relieved when Isabela detached herself from Victor and took the boots from him. “Oh Renoir, these are exquisite. Do you have something a little sleeker for me to wear?”

“Oh yes! There was one dress I pulled that I thought you’d love” he stated and went to the rack, pulling a backless matte jersey knot-front dress with a slit up the left thigh. “It’s just short enough to look wonderful with the boots, and the sangria color will bring out the warm tones of your eyes and skin. Radiant” he consulted with flare and whisked her back to the dressing room, avoiding Victor’s scrutinizing gaze. “But I must say, signorina, that black nail polish will detract from the look” he said and got in the dressing room to help her put the backless dress on.

“Now you know it’s my signature, Renoir. Black goes with everything” she chuckled and followed him out of the dressing room to stand on the pedestal again. “Oh, this is it” she purred approvingly and posed in the high heeled boots. Renoir adjusted the hemline at the small of her back and smoothened out the lines along her hips. Victor growled, not liking the idea that another man—fruitcake or not—had his hands on his viper. “What do you think, Victor” he looked at her playful gaze in the mirror.

Forgetting the other man, he unabashedly growled, “I’m sure it’ll look just as good on the floor.”

Renoir coughed and excused himself to get a fetching coat for her ensemble, leaving the two ferals to size each other up. Isabela was the first to break eye contact when she strutted to the dressing room. “I’ll try something else then” she mused and went to shut the curtain.

Victor stalked over and held it open. “If this is an exercise on my patience, I don’t fucking like it” he growled and trailed a sharp claw along her jaw and down her throat, cutting into her skin and watching the grove mend shut without a single drop of blood. “I already wanna tear this fucking dress off of you, and you know it” he purred.

Isabela’s gaze grew dark with desire. “You tear it, you buy it” she purred back and pulled him into the dressing room.

Victor chuckled darkly and jerked the curtain closed as they tangled against each other in a heat of nips, pawing, and kisses that quickly grew hot and heavy after hours of pent-up sexual tension.

---------------

Bezu was irritated that his trip was delayed one more day. He was growing tired of the cold and gloomy weather in Manhattan and wanted to be in the warm heat of the Caribbean. He wouldn’t leave without all of his money, though.

His money had been at the laundry for a few days now, so he figured one more day wouldn’t hurt. He planned on spending his last night in NYC in style, and told his contact as much before heading to the Tavern on the Green. Bezu was at ease for the first time in years, feeling untouchable and uncaring of his ignorance to the developments he left behind with Basset.

Little did he know that a night out on the town would bring his world crashing down.

---------------

Victor had been glowering since they left the boutique. If he hadn’t been absolutely sure that Isabela would’ve ripped out his throat for killing the interloping fairy he would’ve gutted him with satisfaction. After the guy had walked in on them for a second time and looked absolutely scandalized, Isabela had put a stop on the foreplay.

He’d glared at the fucker all the way out of the boutique, while Isabela had tried appeasing him with her affectionate touches and provocative glare.

“Stop sulking, cub” she chided mockingly as she drove towards the airport.

“Oh, keep talking like that. As soon as we’re alone, I’m gonna fuck that hot mouth of yours” he growled, making a show of cupping his crotch and rubbing the painful bulge in his jeans.

She smiled at him. It made his blood boil with desire and exasperation.

She pulled into the security gate for the airport’s private tarmac and was immediately allowed entrance without any inquiry. “I hope you’ve flown on a jet before. It can be a jarring experience otherwise” she stated as she sped down towards a plane hanger.

He thought of Lagos; remembered how airsick Jimmy got.

He grunted when the private jet came into view. She parked a few yards away from the jet’s disembarked staircase and left the keys in the ignition as she got out of the car. Victor followed her and met her around the front of the car. A uniformed valet came up and greeted them, informing Isabela of the flight itinerary and telling her they were on schedule for takeoff before signaling another valet to take her car. She approved and pulled her jacket’s collar closed as she ascended the stairs with Victor close behind. He was observing everything, watching and taking everything in. His viper was clearly a well-connected jetsetter with an impressive network of resources and amazing skills. It turned him on to watch everyone cater to her AND him, even when they saw his claws and fangs. They just behaved in the most routine way, extending the same courtesies and accommodations as they would any blue blood or government official.

They took their coats and served them drinks—which she ordered for the both of them again—and the pilot came out to greet her personally.

“My employer wants to assure you that the arrangements have been made for your travels and wants you to know he is waiting for your phone call. Please feel free to use our private line and if you need anything, buzz the cockpit and we’ll be at your service” the man with the eastern european drawl imparted before nodding and heading back to the pilot’s chair.

Victor took a long drink of his bourbon and eyed her sharply. He was lounging on a plush chair across from her while she sat with her legs crossed on the couch. Leaving his glass in the cup holder, he prowled towards her. Isabela coyly slinked away from him when he sat on the couch and the cushion dipped her towards him.

“We haven’t even taken off” she murmured when he pulled her over to him and pawed his hands down her body.

“Like I give a fuck” he growled against her throat and pinched her nipple through her dress. She gasped and craned away from his voracious mouth before he could sink his fangs into her neck.

In a flash of movement she was sitting on the opposite side of the table that was between another chair and the couch. She picked up the phone and pressed a direct line. Victor growled and clambered towards her. Isabela hissed a warning and braced her Italian leathered-foot against his shoulder. He chuckled and picked her up before slamming her down on the couch and pressing over her. She miraculously was able to keep the phone to her ear while they jostled playfully and kissed ravenously until a click rang on the other end of the line.

She pulled away from their kiss and answered in Russian the greeting from the other line. Victor eyed her mischievously, pulling her taut against him so he could feast on her exposed skin. She inhaled a quick breath when he exposed a breast and rasped his tongue over the studded nipple.

“Da” she confirmed and tried to keep her voice level while Victor caused havoc on her hypersensitive skin. His hand went up her skirt and made her blush from the onslaught. The jet was taxing to the runaway, and any minute they would be in the air, so she pushed him back onto the other end of the couch, hiked her dress up, and climbed onto his lap. “You’re trying my fucking patience, Uri. Since you were the one who acted as de Lioncourt’s reference, I thought it would be good for you to get on my good side, lest I start to wonder if you were part of it as well” she snarled with a cutthroat business tone. “Good. Oh no, of course not, Uri. If I really did suspect you, you’d be dead right now” she sneered into the phone and ground her hips down over Victor’s lap.

He growled his approval and smirked lasciviously. “Get off the fucking phone” he ordered and lengthened his claws before dragging them dangerously close to tearing her dress open.

She scowled when the Russian asked about the other man he’d heard. “Since when has that been any of your business” a pause, “Aha, yes Uri, I know you pledge your loyalty and services, I get it. It’s the smart thing to do, and since I don’t think you’re a fucking moron I know all of this already. Just do what we talked about and I’ll handle the rest. We’re about to take off—I’ll call you” she rolled her eyes and slapped Victor’s hands away from possibly tearing her dress. “For the love of Christ, Uri, stop stammering! I’ve got to go. Yes, the crew is very accommodating!—Dasvidania!” she huffed and ended the call.

She scampered off of Victor’s lap to hang up the phone just as they were about to take off. Once it was safe to walk around the cabin, Isabela stood and fixed her dress.

“You’re positively impetuous!” she grumbled and waved him away when he laughed at her. “He probably thinks I’m losing it” she protested and stalked towards the bar to pour herself another glass of merlot.

“Like I fucking care” he chuckled and prowled after her, taking the glass out of her hand and leaving it on the counter so he could back her into the closest surface. “How long do I have to fuck you senseless?” he inquired viciously as he ground against her.

She gasped. “A few hours” she murmured and kissed him. “Come” she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards then enclosed quarters of the cabin.

“That’s the idea, sugar” he growled in her ear when she opened the sliding door and revealed a posh room with a round bed under some strategically positioned spotlights.

She hummed musingly under her breath and turned in his arms and started working the buttons of his dress shirt undone. “Well then. Tell me, Victor” she murmured against his lips as she pulled the shirt off and started working his undershirt up his sculpted torso, purring “Have you ever been to the mile high club?” after pulling the shirt off and pushing him onto the bed as the door slid closed behind them.
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THANKS FOR READING! PLEASE REVIEW!

Whew! That was a long one, and the crazy thing is, this isn't how I had originally planned to end it lol The chapter just got longer than I had anticipated, so I decided to end it there, so sorry if it seems like a rushed ending...cuz it was in a way lol And I know, they're acting like such a lethal married couple lol but that's ALL THEM I SWEAR! I'd like to thank Anasazi Darkmoon, mandya1313, RedMolly, femensqueterror, and most of all Fyrefly for the kind and encouraging reviews! The feedback that you guys were awesome enough to give me were very motivational and encouraging when I wasn't sure about myself and the story, so many thanks!!

The songs I used were "Somebody to Love" by Jefferson Airplane and "Carry On" by Crosby Stills Nash and Young. The latter in particular really made me think Victor and Logan. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!!

My undying affection to Liev Schreiber for being such a wonderful muse, and for being such a great man.

-ROGUEFURY