Chapter 2
Victor settled himself back onto his bed, listening to Julie leave his apartment and close the door. He was ticked that she'd roused him from his drowsy state, but he'd fall asleep soon enough, and it wasn't like he truly needed the recovery time, not like the frail. He exhaled, thinking of how she'd called out his name over and over again when he made her come, squeezing around his dick inside her.
When he'd first started bringing Julie to his place for sex, he hadn't given a shit whether or not she climaxed as he took his pleasure. Obviously - she was a whore. An expensive one, but still... He'd realized a couple of things, however, as he continued taking her to his bed over several months: it was easy for him to get her to orgasm, for one thing, and the sex was better if he did, for another.
After years of terrorizing frails (women, prostitutes, it didn't matter) as he abraded their tender parts with his concrete body, he finally had a soft female who clung to him, wanting more, instead of screaming and defending herself against him - and although he found fighting back entertaining, this willingness had its good points. It was one of the only times he'd ever experienced that, save for the idyllic, sex-filled weeks he'd initially spent last fall with his mate, Tanya.
Tanya.
Though Tanya was robust and wiry instead of pliant and curvy, he'd enjoyed himself extremely in the time they'd had together after he claimed her at Jimmy's cabin. Her healing factor meant that he didn't have to hold himself back while they fucked, and he'd dragged his claws across her skin, watching her tissues heal themselves as she returned the favor by gouging tears in his own flesh. It had been a bloody celebration of being feral, that's for sure.
But after inundating her with his semen for just a couple of months, they'd discovered that she was breeding, her fertile belly growing swollen with his cub. As proud as he was of this, and as smug as little Spark's admiration made him feel by being a father figure, Victor found that he couldn't stand being at home, around a pregnant Tanya - the change in her scent was repellant to him, and her mood was frustrating and demanding.
Bowing to his instinct, he fled their mutual refuge, leaving her to gestate alone with her older cub. The house where he left them in the tranquil northeastern Canadian forest was fully equipped, there was a mid-sized town nearby, and Victor even left her a note and bank account details when he departed in the middle of the night - considerations he would never have previously thought about - and headed for his solitary apartment on the 65th floor of a Toronto high rise.
Once alone, his thoughts and desires returned to Lorelei, the Runt's wife. The glimpse he'd caught of her naked body the last night he was there was frozen in his memory, providing fodder for more than one deliberately rough self-pleasuring experience: one of his clawed hands gripping his dick hard enough to be almost painful, the other clutching a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels.
Alone in the city, he'd roamed at night, of course, looking for distractions and entertainment. He worked his way through several drugged-out hookers, his healing factor protecting him from the litany of sexual diseases he could smell on them, and his claws and fangs left them mostly broken afterward, anyway.
He almost felt badly about that. He'd told Jimmy that he was over being a mindless killing machine, and that was pretty much true. He killed for money, but not just murder for the sake of watching the life drain out of a person. However, he was walking around feeling angry at the way things had ended with Jimmy, he was frustrated, he was horny, and, although he'd never admit it aloud, he was lonely. Gentle sex was something he'd never thought himself capable of before - taking and forcing were all he'd ever known. A handful of scrawny streetwalkers were not worthy of his respect, and he had no reason to regard them as anything other than available holes.
Then one night, he'd been walking near a light rail train station pretty late and heard a shriek, which cut off abruptly. Turning into a nearby alley, his enhanced vision caught sight of a small figure struggling with a larger, hooded assailant. The mugger wrenched a little purse out of the woman's hands, pushing her backward so that she fell on the ground, then he spun around to run away, striking Victor's big chest in surprise.
Before he could even articulate what he was about to do, Victor had ripped the man's throat open with one set of claws, the other set entangling in his hood and the hair beneath to yank the man's head backward, almost decapitating him completely. The violence was intoxicating to him, and he roared in delight. The would-be robber collapsed, blood spilled hot on Victor's fingers and wrists, and he glanced over at the woman on the ground, who was scrambling to her feet while squinting through the darkness to see what new altercation was taking place.
As Victor focused on her, he realized that she was pale and beautiful, with bouncy brown hair tied in a low ponytail over one shoulder. She was wearing some sort of polyester shirt-and-slacks waitress uniform, but the hideous outfit couldn't hide the fact that she was curvy, with high, firm breasts. The nose and eyes were all wrong - they looked nothing like Lorelei - but the sensuous mouth, in combination with the scent of her fear and tears and adrenaline in the air, charged Victor sexually and his heart rate increased.
He was on her in an instant, knocking her to the ground and tearing the fabric of her pants away from her body. Shoving his cock inside of her, he began rutting into her like the savage thing he was, belatedly wondering why she wasn't putting up a fight. He looked up, and saw that she must have struck her head on the asphalt when he jumped on her, because her eyes were lolled back in her head and she was clearly out cold. He could still hear her heartbeat, so he knew she wasn't dead, but watching her head flop around like a corpse's as he fucked her repulsed him instantly, his chest clenching as her appearance reminded him once again of Lorelei.
He'd leapt up and scaled the fire escape of the adjacent building, breathing heavily. He watched for an hour until some Good Samaritan, probably a cabbie on his way home to bed, found her and called an ambulance. Rattled, Victor had hid in the shadows completely silent until he had the chance to skulk home, his bloody skin hidden beneath the overcoat he carried balled in his hands.
After he got in his door that night, he stood in the shower with his bottle of Jack, watching the red-tinged water swirl around the drain, and he'd gotten an idea from the escapade with the Lorelei look-alike. Instead of tearing through worthless prostitutes, maybe he could find an actual bona fide escort - a pretty and clean woman who looked like Lorelei, and who he could even bring back to his home to screw. He considered the fact that, obviously, if he hired someone like that he would not be able to shred her the way he was used to...but he'd nodded his head sharply to himself, swigging his whiskey. He was up to this challenge. No contract mercenary work had come in for him for awhile, and he knew that he was just plain bored; he needed a new toy. Forcing himself to maintain a non-lethal pace so that he didn't break his new plaything would be just enough to keep him busy.
It was fairly easy for him to get a recommendation and find this Shayna woman, and he met her at a table in an upscale hotel bar; she didn't bat an eye at the sight of his pointy claws. She'd arched one perfect brow as he outlined for her what he was looking for: a feminine, demure woman with fair skin and natural breasts. Had to be brunette. No dates, just sex, but someone who would not mind if things got a little bit rough - here he had winked and licked one of his fangs, to no reaction whatsoever from the tall, mocha-skinned Shayna.
She tactfully explained her fee structure, and suggested that they discuss the physical parameters later, casting significant looks at his claws and teeth. She hummed thoughtfully and informed him with some certainty that she thought of someone who would fit his bill, except that she was a blonde. Perhaps if Mr. Creed were willing to pay in advance, and for a series of liaisons rather than just one, the hue of her hair could be altered?
Victor agreed quickly, hating how eager he sounded, but loving the image of a beautiful woman straddling his body, dark hair falling around bare white shoulders like a curtain while she rode him.
One small annoyance was that Shayna had a non-negotiable condom policy. He despised the latex sheaths, and because of his healing ability, he did not give a shit that he was completely incapable of putting one on himself. He only sulked briefly before agreeing to this stipulation. It would be preferable for the girl to smell like his seed, to see it on her, but he'd rather have his cock in her and encased in a condom than not at all.
At their next meeting, at Shayna's office, he got to meet this Julie, appraising her figure and skin and determining that she would work just fine for what he wanted. She dyed her hair, and the rich chestnut color on the soft tresses made his fingers itch to run his claws through them.
One thing he hadn't thought about was her clothing. The first time Julie arrived at his apartment in March, she was wearing the same type of thing that she'd worn to the meeting with Shayna: a crisp, fitted dress with stockings and heels, with her now-brown hair pinned up. He was disappointed: his mind's eye had been picturing the full-skirted sundresses that Lorelei favored while he was living at their house, the fabric swishing around her thighs and causing the scent of her musk to float around her in the air.
Julie could sense that something was amiss. "What's wrong?" she'd asked, her tone businesslike.
"It's your dress," he'd muttered, unfamiliar enough with women's fashion that he didn't really know how to say what he wanted, just that what she was wearing was not right.
Julie had glanced down at her grey shift, then appraised him, thinking for a moment. "I've got this," she finally said, confidently. "You go out the door and come back in after a minute, just like you wanted."
He was a little indignant at how it seemed that this frail was telling him what to do, but he decided that he was hungry enough for sex to overlook this and give her suggestion a try. Standing in the hallway outside his own front door, he rocked back and forth a little on his heels in anticipation, then opened the door suddenly, slamming it shut behind him.
Julie had stepped out of the bedroom, hips swaying seductively, with her hair loose down her back and wearing nothing but one of Victor's button-down shirts. With only a single button fastened, he caught a tantalizing glimpse of the dark hair between her legs as she reached a hand up to run through her long chestnut locks.
"Oh Victor," she said in a sweet, quiet voice, giving him a little smile. "I've been waiting for you all day, Baby." She'd unbuttoned the shirt, letting it slip off her shoulders and fall to the floor, ghosting her fingertips over her nipples as the garment dropped.
Victor felt a surge of blood go straight to his groin, and he'd grinned wide as he stalked purposefully to her. "Come to Daddy, Frail," he growled.