Chapter 3

Her mind was much clearer when she next awoke and her body felt better. Sabretooth was holding her tightly once again but she did not fight the embrace. Instead she remained relaxed and comfortable as she contemplated the confusing situation further.

Sabretooth had brought her deep into the wilderness, that was evident from the cold and her inability to contact any other minds. Somehow, he had managed to confuse the telepaths still at the mansion since she had not felt Cerebro's familiar contact. Personally she could not figure out how he had done that. When Charles Xavier used Cerebro to augment his personal ability, he could easily contact people on the other side of the world.

Then there was the presence of the medications and bandages. He would have no need of them, not with his incredible healing ability. Their existence here as well as the items in the bathroom indicated that he had spent time and thought preparing for another's presence and that somebody seemed to be her since the perfume was so obviously selected for her and the other items seemed tailored for her.

So, he had planned her abduction very carefully, but for what purpose? If her arrival here had been different and it had been someone else other than Sabretooth, she would feel like a guest not a prisoner, which made no sense at all.

Betsy briefly tried to probe the feral mutant's mind but found it was as closed as always. Between the mind blocks installed by various government groups and the cat like quality of his thought processes, she was effectively barred from anything but his surface thoughts and those only indicated relaxation and contentment. Shifting her position experimentally, she was relieved to find his only reaction was to sleepily nuzzle her, not restrain her. Trying not to wake him, she exited the bed, pulling the fleece robe she found at the foot of the bed tightly around her. In the kitchen corner she found fully stocked cabinets and a full fridge. Like the bathroom, the appliances looked brand new and she smiled in amusement as she fixed herself some coffee. The selection of creamers ran from half&half to mocha. Like everything else, it seemed he had tried to provide whatever she might want without having a clue as to what that would be.

Holding the warm mug of coffee, she softly sipped as she surveyed the large room, her feet soundless on the fur rugs. There were several large bookcases along the wall and they seemed to be the only things in here that were not brand new. The books showed a lot of use and covered a wide spectrum of subjects and authors. So, the feared Sabretooth was not the mindless beast he seemed.

Pulling out a dog eared copy of one of her favorite authors, she telepathically checked to make sure he was still asleep. She almost dropped the book when she found that he was not sleeping as deeply as she had assumed. He was fully aware of her even though he was not completely awake and the awareness seemed to be tied to the contentment he still felt. Yet another layer of strangeness to this situation.

Her feet were beginning to hurt again so she curled up on the couch and lost herself in the story, unconsciously rubbing her aching feet. Immersed as she was in the book, it was awhile before she realized that Sabretooth had not only woken up, but was now sitting on the couch rubbing her feet for her. Looking up from her book, she found his eyes staring at her intently before he leaned forward to briefly kiss her. "Why are you doing this?"

His dark blue eyes continued to stare deeply into her violet ones. "I want to. You taste good."

Her voice betrayed irritation at his obtuseness. "No. Why did you kidnap me?"

"Told ya. I wanted to." His lips caressed hers again.

"Where are we?" He seemed relaxed and distracted, now was a good time to gather information.

"Don't know. Built this place long time ago and I find it by scent and stars. Don't really know what country it's in."

"You do not even know what country you are in?"

"Nope." His mouth had moved to nibble at her neck. "Woulda' been pretty stupid to bring you anywhere else. You woulda' just got into my mind and used it like a map to get away if I had any real idea where we are." His tongue traced her ear and she was finding it hard to concentrate but continued to allow the caresses. She was not ready for another fight yet.

"Why do you want me?" His hand lay on her thigh and she resisted the urge to lean her neck to the side. She had to concentrate on information gathering. This was her enemy, the enemy of all the X-Men, Warren's enemy.

"You're strong, tough, beautiful. You should be with someone other than that pussy Angel."

Betsy wondered why she felt more curiosity than anger at his comments and insults to Warren, her boyfriend, also known as Angel. "Who then? Someone like you?"

His hand squeezed her thigh, moving under the robe to caress the silk covered skin as his tongue traced her collar bone. "Yeah." His teeth nipped lightly at her shoulder. "Why the hell are you with that frail anyway?"

"Warren is not a woman."

"Ok, so he found some balls for awhile when he got his new metal wings to replace the feathers he lost but without them, the runt's pet frail could kick his ass, easy."

"Jubilee is not a frail." This defense came out harsher than the last. Betsy was quite fond of the young girl Wolverine had adopted, viewing her like a favorite niece.

"Whatever. Thing is 'Angel' is more of a frail than her. So, what do you want with that?"

"He knows how to treat a woman." Her temper and confusion were rising together and his constant caresses were not helping her to remain calm.

He was stroking her hair back from her face as he continued to lavish her throat with warm, wet attention. "He knows how to treat a frail 'cause he is a frail. He don't know how to treat a woman."

"And I suppose you do?" Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

"Better than him." He pulled back and stared deeply into her eyes. "If someone had hurt you like I did when I broke out of the mansion, I'd have killed the bastard, not try to capture him."

His stare was too intent for her to hold and she turned her gaze away. Her voice was soft and there was a catch in it as she responded. "He wanted to kill you."

"Maybe, but he sure as hell didn't try. He was obeying his precious professor like a good little frail. Tried to take me alive from the beginning."

It was too much for her to face and she found refuge from his words in anger. "You are a hypocrite. You say you would defend me, avenge me, better than Warren yet you tried to kill me only six months ago."

He held her accusing stare without flinching. "No, I didn't. If I had, you wouldn't be here. I would've cut in half, literally. I didn't want you dead. I wanted you out of the way, I wanted out of that place. Shit, I'd just been caged, taunted, and beaten on for months. Even the sainted runt would've been insane by then. I just wanted to get past you but you wouldn't go down without a fight." His smile was rueful and he looked down at his hand as it caressed her thigh through the gown. "You never do." Sabretooth smiled fondly at memories but his gaze was predatory when he looked back up at her. His hand cupped the back of her skull and he held her still as his mouth came down over hers ruthlessly, his tongue making it's way inside to plunder her taste.

For several moments, Betsy enjoyed the sheer animal aggression before remembering her loyalty to Warren. Bringing her teeth together, she bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. He pulled back with a roar of pain and she extended her psychic knife, preparing for retaliation. It caught her off guard when he smiled at her as he wiped the blood off his lips. "That's my woman. I'd continue this with you, but I'm hungry."

The confusing man went into the kitchen and fixed himself several steaks while Betsy tried to concentrate on her book. However curiosity got the better of her and she resumed their conversation. "Why me?"

"Huh?"

"Why focus on me? I am a 'do-gooder frail' like the rest of the X-Men. Why me?"

He moved across the cabin with inhuman speed and roughly pulled her to her feet. One arm wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides while the other hand gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "Don't you ever say that again! Don't call yourself a frail!"

She met his gaze unafraid and defiantly demanded, "Why not?"

"You're not a frail. You never were."

Her breath caught at the intensity in his face. "But, that is what you called me before."

He smiled, somewhat embarrassed. "I wanted you mad, I wanted you to react to me, anything but indifference. Do you remember the first time we met?"

"What?"

His hand no longer gripped her chin, instead his fingers traced her features and his eyes seemed to soften at his memories. "It was when I was part of the Marauders and we'd been told to kill the bunch of mutants living under New York. I came into the mansion lookin' for the ones that got away. I was gonna kill 'em, finish the job, really piss the runt off by doing it in his own home. But, he wasn't there. I ran into you. You were still in your original body and you looked like a proper English Lady. 'Course your hair was purple even then, but still looking prim and proper. I figured you for an easy mark. I mean it was real obvious you'd never had any combat training. I never expected you to fight back like you did: moving through the mansion, drawing me away from the wounded I'd come to kill, throwing a barbell at me." He was smiling fondly as he brushed her hair back from her face. "Hell, you threw everything but the kitchen sink at me. Even when I had you backed into a corner, you were still fightin' me. Defiant to the very last."

"What are you saying? You wanted me then?" Betsy's voice was soft, afraid to believe what he was telling her.

"No, at the time, I wanted you dead. You really pissed me off. But, ya impressed me, too. I was glad the runt interfered, hitting from the side and saving you. I knew even then you weren't a frail. You're a fighter, a real woman."

Scanning his face and thoughts, she was shocked to find he had left his mental defenses down and all she could find was sincerity. An ironic smile curved her lips. She had always known she was a fighter. Even before the whole mess that had gifted her with her present body, that of a fully trained female Asian assassin, she had known herself to be more than the quiet little lady everyone expected. Her twin brother, Brian, a true book worm, and her parents had always reminded her to act like a lady, mild and proper, to suppress any impulsiveness or desire for adventure. Only her older brother, Jamie, had ever indulged her wild streak. She used to sit on his lap steering his latest sports car while he worked the gas pedal, tearing up the country roads at break neck speeds. She had loved every minute of it, and hated every minute of being grounded when her parents found out. Even when she had become an adult and embarked on a career as a model, she had still acted the part of the genteel lady as expected. When she had joined the X-Men, they had doubted she would survive. The life of outlaw freedom fighter was much too rough for a fragile English rose such as her. When she had returned from one of the X-Men's more mystical misadventures in this new body, their view of her had finally changed. They saw her as a fighter but they thought her too vicious, untrustworthy, a tease. That had only cleared up when she had begun dating the proper gentleman, Warren, who was also a founding member of the team. They were the proper well-mannered, genteel couple and her wild side was once again suppressed.

It was truly ironic that her teammates, closest friends, saw only what they wanted to see but this man, her enemy, saw her the same way she had always seen herself. Her mind reeled at the realization and she could not think straight with him so close, staring at her so intently as he gently caressed her face and body. Well, he thought of her as a fighter. It would be a shame to disappoint him.

Her psychic knife emerged and a twist of her wrist embedded it in his chest. He howled in shock and pain. Bringing her foot down on his instep and breaking it, she was able to twist free of his grip. Leaping back into a defensive crouch, she smiled challengingly as he snarled at her, preparing to leap after her. "I feel the need for some me time. I have a bit to think on."

His snarl turned to a low growl then into a chuckle. "That's my woman." Standing, he strode out of the room, his foot already healed.

The reckless corner of her mind silently replied, "Possibly."