Hi, everyone. Just wanted to put this little disclaimer out there. X-Men do not belong to me. However, Natasha Greshnev in all of her gorgeous spunkiness belongs to me. Hope you like her.
Summary: From the time she was ten, Natasha Greshnev was a tough cookie to crack and grew up to be a sarcastic, cold assassin with a hidden mutation. But when Professor X calls her back to the mansion, Natasha finds herself growing fond of a new mutant that reminds her of her, dangerously attracted to the infamous Wolverine and thrown into the war looming ahead against Magneto. It's been a long time, but can Natasha still fit the X-Men suit? Or has her heart become too tainted with the blood she's shed?
The Beginning
Mutation: it is the key to our evolution. It has enabled us to evolve from a single-celled organism into the dominant species on the planet. This process is slow and normally taking thousands and thousands of years. But every few hundred millennia, evolution leaps forward.
"Look, sweetie, your Daddy and I have to leave you here with this nice man," her mother said soothingly. The little girl stared up at her mother with emotionless green eyes and her mother sighed sadly. "Just know that we love you both very much." The older girl, who was roughly about twelve, nodded.
"We know, mommy," she replied. Their father was standing by the door refusing to meet either pair of eyes. The older girl frowned a little before smiling at her mother. "We'll call you every Friday and we'll send you letters." Their mother smiled with tears overflowing from her eyes.
"I'll miss you," the woman said and kissed both of their cheeks. "Both of you." She reached over to stroke the curly hair over her youngest child. But the girl snatched away from her and slid closer to her sister, holding the older girl's hand. Their mother flinched at the sudden hatred blaring in her youngest daughter's eyes, but refused to say anything more.
Waving at the girls, she walked over to her husband and grasped his hand. With one final smile, they closed the large doors. The two girls just stared at it, both wondering if their parents truly even cared that this might be the last time they see them.
"Calm yourself," a male voice said and just like that, the chairs, sofas and bookshelf fell to the floor. "They're gone now. And this is your home now. Never forget that."
She stared at the floor, eyes burning a hole into the concrete. It was hot and she was sweaty and her wrists hurt from having ropes tied around them against this horrible wooden chair. The left side of her face stung from where she'd been slapped and the little pieces of wood in the chair slid against her bare, creamy thighs.
The men chuckled around her and she cursed them all to hell.
"Bet ya don't got big shit to say now, huh bitch?" The muscular man sneered. She raised her head up to him, green eyes blaring with hatred.
"Of course I wouldn't," she shot back. "I wouldn't want to open my mouth too long and inhale the stench of horny, pathetic losers like you. Oh, and the next time you want to hit me, try to make it hurt. You hit like a baby." She even had the audacity to smirk. He frowned.
After one beat, his fist slammed into the right side of her face and she let out a small cry of pain as her head whipped to the side. His ring cut the side of her lip and she tasted her blood in her mouth, spitting it out disgustedly. The other men laughed.
"You never know when to shut your mouth, do you Natalie?" He taunted and she wanted to curse him for getting her name wrong. But instead of replying, she spat on his brand new shoes. She let out another cry as he gripped a fistful of her chin-length, curly ruby red hair and lifted her head up. "I am going to have so much fun breaking you." She rolled her eyes.
"If you're going to attempt to kill me, get on with it so I can kill you. I have a lot better things to be doing right now like…I don't know, getting a life?" Her witty comebacks had been pushing him all night and now, it was time to end this.
"Well, if you're so ready to die –
Just as he lifted his fist to punch her again, a ring went off in the room. Everyone turned to her black purse, which they had conveniently put on the table. All eyes were on the muscular man as he released her and walked over to the bag. He took her phone out and flipped it open. Invasion of my fucking privacy? Oh, he's definitely on my list, she thought and glared at him.
"Look, if you think you're talking to Little Miss –
"Put her on the phone," the male voice on the phone said calmly and instinctively, the muscular man handed her the phone. She maneuvered it so that the phone was between her head and her shoulder.
"What?"
"I need your help, dear," he said into the phone and she widened her eyes.
"Are you serious right now?" She yelled into the phone. "I am in the middle of busting a drug dealer who played a trick on a Russian mafia boss and you want my help?" The man on the other end chuckled and everyone else in the room just stared around at each other, clueless.
"This is a little more urgent," he told her and she rolled her eyes. "The matter is a little more…delicate than you think. And this might involve Magneto." Almond-shaped green eyes widened before she smiled.
"Please hold, Professor," she said smoothly and the muscular man took the phone from her. Before he could too far away, she head-butted him and when he fell back with a groan, she kicked her legs up, kicking him right in the jaw. Even before he hit the ground, she was on her feet, still attached to the chair. She slammed the back of the chair into one guy, effectively stabbing him with one of the legs. When another slammed her into the wall, he broke the chair, thus freeing her.
She grabbed a broken leg and hit him in the front of the head with it, knocking him out. The last guy lunged at her and she – thinking about her thigh-length dress – she mindfully high-kicked him in the chest, knocking him into the wall. Before the guy could get up, she already was before him and slammed his head into the wall. He was out like a light. The muscular guy tried to crawl away and she grinned. Glancing at one of the chains he threatened to use on her, she acted quickly.
She grabbed the chains and grabbed him by his legs, yanking him to the balcony. She wrapped the chain around his left leg and then dragged him to his feet. They stood at the balcony.
"Please," he begged pathetically. "Please don't kill me." She chuckled.
"Who's the bitch now, bitch?" She taunted and threw him over. He screamed as he fell and let out an even louder scream when the chain stopped. She had tied it around the railing. So, he now hung thirty feet in the air waiting for the cops to arrive. She grabbed her purse, her heels and her phone, putting the phone at her ear. "Okay, Professor, talk."
Oooooo
She pulled the hood down as she stepped into seedy, over-crowded bar. It reeked of sweat, sex, food and musk, all of which stung her nose. Glancing around herself, she pulled the cloak closer to her petite body and tried to make herself appear invisible in the crowd. As she made her way through people, she heard some guy talking really loudly and looked up at the cage.
She wasn't really focusing on what was being sad. Her eyes were trained on the man leaning against the inside of the cage. She watched, transfixed, as he took a large puff of the cigar and dragged it out, letting the smoke surround him sensually as he exhaled. He looked like he was in his mid-thirties maybe and yet…there was a rugged handsomeness that she couldn't place. He was muscled and tanned and had dark hair and muttonchops that looked rough. But his eyes were what softened everything. They were a nice hazel color and they looked so beautiful, it was hard to look away. Until someone bumped her and she kept walking.
"Water, please," she said quietly and sat on one of the stools at the bar. The bartender nodded as someone chuckled to her left.
"Aren't you a little too young to be at a bar, sweetie?" The female voice asked and she turned.
"I'm a lot older than I look," she said pointedly at the beautiful redhead. Natasha smiled softly at the small comeback, which was truly rare because Natasha only had two soft spots. And they were her sister and the professor.
"I'm sure," Natasha replied sarcastically, taking a gulp of her bourbon. It was a nice blend of smooth liquor and sweetness, leaving a refreshing feeling in her mouth. She then got the bartender's attention as he came back out of the back with a basket and the girl's water. "Give her the food. Something tells me you haven't eaten since you were in New York." The girl's eyes widened.
"How did you know that?" She asked. Natasha grinned.
"Let's just say I'm on your side." The girl gulped as she stared into those expressive green eyes.
"How do you know I even have a side?" Natasha shrugged.
"Everyone has a side," she told the girl, bringing her glass back to her lips. "And let's just say I've been on yours for a while now. How do you think you even got your ride to Laughlin City without pay?" The girl shrugged at Natasha and she looked so innocent. It was hard to believe that the girl had traveled to Canada all the way from Mississippi.
"He was being nice?" She asked and Natasha smirked.
"Trust me, sweetie, you're a long ways from the South. And chivalry is dead around these parts," Natasha said dryly before drinking some more. "Now, eat your food, Rogue. I already know you're hungry." Rogue didn't question the pretty woman anymore. She just dug into the burger and fries.
Natasha observed the girl sympathetically. Rogue was fifteen and was meant to be small at the moment. But Natasha could see that Rogue had thinned down. She looked younger than her fifteen years and her big dark brown eyes were saddened. Pale skin was covered by a long sleeved shirt, a heavy green cloak, black pants, and boots. Dark brown hair was tied back and Natasha could make out the black leather hands. All of those layers simply made her smaller and that scared the shit out of Natasha because for all she knew, the girl could have been close to starving to death had Natasha never come.
Natasha nodded to the bartender and he poured so more liquor into her glass and set the bottle on the counter for her. She raised an eyebrow as he smiled.
"Let's just say it's on the house, sweetheart," he told her and left it that. But Natasha couldn't leave it at that and read his thoughts while he walked to the other side of the bar.
So what if the Wolverine usually takes that bottle. She deserves it for taking care of that girl like that, he was thinking, rummaging through his liquor supply for more bourbon. Natasha took a drink, wondering who this Wolverine was when a loud growl escaped the cage and both her and Rogue's eyes were drawn to it.
Apparently, the idiot in the cage thought that it was a good idea to punch the other guy in the face. So, the other man let out this loose, threatening growl that sent chills down Natasha's spine. Growling again, the angry man landed a solid blow to the idiot's face, knowing him out instantly. The crowd went into uproar instantly; some were shouting in triumph for placing bets on him and others booed him.
"I give you your King of the Cage, the Wolverine," the meek announcer exclaimed into the announcer and tried to pull Wolverine's hand up, but it didn't budge until the Wolverine raised his hands in the air, basking in the hatred, lust and admiration. The noise drowned out for Natasha, however. All she could focus on was the man and his beautiful eyes.
Those eyes just spoke of danger, of dark, burning desires. She could practically see all of the things he had done in those eyes, in and out of the bedroom. Dark hair and muttonchops seemed feral and rough to the touch, but Natasha found herself imagining how soft they would be in her hands as she kissed those firm lips. His body reminded you of heavy weight boxers, dark tanned skin stretching to accommodate intimidating, sinewy muscles. Natasha could feel her eyes tracing the smooth and probably hard planes of his chest and down to his six pack and even lower to where those tight jeans clung to him, hiding the delicious package that lay beneath.
What the fuck? Natasha thought and shook her head, casting her eyes away from Wolverine. She didn't think like this. She honestly didn't care about men that much and when she did, it was a quick fuck that she normally took control of. And while that never left her fully satisfied, it left her sated for the time being and kept her in control. Being more involved meant emotional shit and that just wasn't on Natasha's agenda.
But never had she studied a man this intensely and just as her mind trailed off to what the man could probably do with that body, her own body responded. She felt herself grow extremely wet and squeezed her thighs together tightly. Her nipples puckered beneath her sports bra and she thanked whatever deity out for reminding her to keep her coat on. Natasha clenched her thighs together tightly as the warmth seeped out. She raised her eyes and let out an audible gasp.
He was looking straight at her! His nostrils were flaring and for the love all things holy, Natasha felt like he could smell her in the crowd.
Holy fuck! That is not possible, she hissed in her head.
Quite so, dear, the professor said mentally. Ferals can pinpoint any scent that they please. Even in a crowded room. The professor was gone before Natasha could kick him out. He knew she hated people in her head; it was bad enough she was in there and Natasha was referring to herself.
She watched Wolverine's hazel eyes darken and she could've sworn he snarled at her. Did he smell her arousal? She didn't want to believe it, but when he bared teeth at her, she did. His eyes slid over her face and even though she was fully clothed, she could feel his eyes all over her body, as if he was mentally peeling off every layer of clothing and about to fuck her –
"Are you okay?" Rogue asked in that sweet little Southern drawl, snapping Natasha away from her thoughts away from the Wolverine's dangerously darkening eyes. Natasha let out a quiet gulp and gave Rogue and a chilling smile.
"Of course," she replied and took a swig straight from the bottle. Rogue gave her a curious stare, stared back to the cage to find that the Wolverine had disappeared and then turned her eyes back to Natasha.
"Y'all know each other?" She asked. Natasha shook her head quickly.
"Not quite," Natasha said and Rogue nodded, excusing herself to the bathroom. Rogue wanted to wash up a little. Natasha nodded to the bartender as he politely took away Rogue's empty basket of food.
Fifteen minutes later, a door swung open. The bar was practically empty now. After the last fight, people realized that they wasted their money on bets and ran on home. Others just didn't want to run into the Wolverine. That other guy given him a nice punch and no one wanted to fuck with the Wolverine when he was pissed.
"Bourbon," a deep, rough voice said gruffly on her left and the bartender gave him a glass. Natasha heard a lighter go off and turned just as the Wolverine took a long, heavy suck of the cigarette. The smoke created a sensual haze between them and the woody, dark scent filled Natasha's nostils.
Hazel clashed with green.
Natasha stared at Wolverine impassively before taking another swig of her liquor. She didn't know the Wolverine. She didn't know a damn thing about him.
Yet.