Chapter 4
Sabretooth was staring at her again.
If she hadn't spent years dealing with Logan, she might have been intimidated. Especially that morning when she first spied the black, fathomless gaze that betrayed his feral nature coming to the forefront.
That had been unsettling- okay, she had been scared shitless for two-point-five seconds- because she swore the intensity of his seething approached the visible spectrum. But then nothing happened. When nothing continued to happen, and he drove without any further comment, the young woman relaxed. Marginally. She didn't think he had any designs to her detriment at the moment, and really only their approaching-civil banter from before had abruptly stopped.
Which was probably for the best because she did not need to go do something stupid like start making eyes at Victor Creed.
At some point his eyes shifted back to their more human, hazy gray, but the furtive glances continued. Along with the occasional low growls, but they weren't the imminently threatening kind, so she didn't pay them much mind.
He was still staring at her when they stopped for lunch, and it was getting on her absolute last nerve. Finally, seated at a small table outside a fast-food joint, she cracked.
"Do I got something on my face, sugar?"
"No," he replied before taking another big bite out his burger.
Of course, he wouldn't just come out with it. Why would her life ever be that easy?
"Then what'd I do to piss you off? You keep glarin' at me, and I don't think I can stand days of tippytoeing around your ego. So, just tell me, and I won't do it again," Marie huffed.
Okay that growl sounded annoyed. So much for trying to be the bigger person.
"You've got something I need to see."
He didn't elucidate further, but his palm up, outstretched hand clearly meant she was supposed to hand something over. Regardless of whom she'd absorbed before, Rogue was not a mind reader. She probably would have been glaring balefully at him forever had her inner Creed not decided to pipe up.
"How 'bout that shiny little collar you got of your own, sweets."
She furrowed her brow, confused for a moment before cottoning on. She tentatively fingered the chain at her neck, and that did catch his attention. "Logan's tags?"
"Yes, Logan's tags," Creed replied snidely.
Is that what his deal is?
She kept them safe under her shirt ever since the man disappeared. She knew how much they meant to Logan, and she had given them back to him ages ago, after he kept his promise and came back the first time.
But then they suddenly popped up on her nightstand the day after he went missing. They weren't there until after she left her room that morning, and Logan had been long gone by then. That's when she knew something was amiss. She didn't think he would have just left them, and he did not do that sort of thing by proxy. The feral's latent personality agreed, not that anyone else seemed to think anything of it. In fact, Scott had taken it as evidence that there was nothing to worry about.
It creeped her out to no end. Jubilee sneaking into her room to filch a top was one thing, but someone getting past the security system and the resident telepaths was something else entirely. Needless to say, she hadn't had a decent night's sleep since.
"Take'em off."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Victor growled.
"Yeah, I heard you, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna just hand them over. Give me one good reason."
The growling increased in volume, and she could see his claws lengthening. It was foolish to be so protective over a scrap of metal, but Marie refused to bend on this.
"I don't want your fucking tags, frail. I need to see if there's any scents to pick up."
That was actually a good idea.
"Oh," She replied, immediately more obliging.
"See, if you'd just said that in the first place, this whole conversation could have been avoided." Marie said, handing him the necklace. "We need to work on your people skills. I'll be teachin' a class on 'please, Rogue' and 'thank you, Rogue' all this afternoon."
Victor ignored the woman's sass and held the warm metal to his nose. As he expected, Rogue's scent clung heavily, and underneath that, he caught the fainter scent of his brother.
It had been a good enough reason to get the tags away from her; he distinctly remembered the damned things nearly hitting him in the face during his last scuffle with Jimmy. So, she couldn't have been in possession of them too long.
That didn't change the fact that when he'd said it, his reasoning had been bullshit. Victor felt jealous pure, and simple. It was stupid; he knew it was stupid. He barely even fucking knew the woman, but this was a matter of instinct. The Cat had decided that he was interested, and the tags rankled.
Then, a tertiary, elusive scent caught his attention. It was so faint that if he hadn't been at least making the appearance of looking for it, he might have missed it entirely.
Looked like they would actually have someone to track, if Rogue's Canada lead was sending them where he knew it would- straight to the base at Alkali Lake. His grasp on the scent was tenuous and that irritated him, but it was slightly better than tracking cold.
Victor didn't want her to put the Runt's tags back on, but he had too much pride to admit it. He could always make an excuse to keep them; maybe even see if he could get a rise out of her.
Against his own conscious volition, he leaned forward to scent her neck, finding the same barely-there traces he'd found on the tags. The girl sat absolutely still, but he detected no fear in her scent, even when he scraped his teeth against the delicate skin. She was far removed from the frightened teen he'd been hired to track and secure.
"Creed."
She'd grown into her backbone, for one.
Victor pulled away abruptly and dropped the tags back around her neck, sparing an admiring glance at the twin pink welts he'd left. Seeing a mark of his own appeased the beast somewhat.
"Got a scent," He told her.
"And?"
She crossed her arms, her jaw set in a stubborn tilt that screamed annoyance. She was faking it, though. At least partially. His nose didn't lie.
"Don't know it, but it's a mutant," Victor idly carved into the table with a claw, "Maybe feral." He shrugged.
"But what would another feral mutant want with Logan?" Rogue asked.
"The fuck should I know?"
He had planned to leave it at that because it really could be anyone. Who knew what fucktard Jimmy had gone and pissed off this time? But the odds that the Wolverine went missing, and a few weeks later the Organization just happened to decide to take out an X-Man and nullify his own contract in one fell swoop were slim, at best. And if They had something to do with it-
"But I'd wager someone wants both you n' me out of the picture. You're a target now, too."
Creed's disclosure bothered her for the rest of the day. It wasn't hard to figure out why someone would be after him. He was wearing a collar, for God's sake, and it sure wasn't the kinky S&M kind. All she had done, on the other hand, was try to find Logan. And accidentally help him kill some soldiers. Okay. That definitely wasn't good and might have landed her on someone's radar, but it wasn't like they hadn't been trying to kill her, too.
The sun dipped toward the horizon, and Marie didn't feel any closer to the 'finding Logan' bit than she had before she got mixed up with Sabretooth. True, "Canada" was as nebulous of a goal as "Alaska" had been once upon a time. She had a rough idea of where the base she was interested should be, but with driving down the back roads of middle America, and Creed actually obeying the speed limit it seemed like they would never get there. The man seemed to be under the impression that they were being actively tracked and was avoiding the interstates at all costs. She was starting to think she would have been better off getting back to New York and appropriating the Blackbird.
"Are we gonna drive through the night? 'Cause if we are I don't wanna ride with you on no sleep. We should trade off. I know how to drive a stick," Marie volunteered.
No need to point out that it was secondhand knowledge.
"I bet you do." He muttered.
Marie's nose scrunched as her newest mental bestie graphically translated the lewd double entendre.
"Ugh. Real charming, Creed. At this rate we'll have to extend your etiquette classes."
"And what makes you think I ain't perfectly happy being a crass motherfucker?"
After spending some time trying to coax whatever she could from the reticent persona in her head, she didn't really believe 'crass' quite fit him. He acted like a boorish bastard, for sure, but Victor Creed definitely wasn't stupid.
"I'll bet you can be the real charmer when you wanna be. And even if you're not, I have tons of experience dealing with fussy toddlers," Marie quipped.
He rolled his eyes and didn't rise to the bait.
At least he was in a better mood than he had been earlier in the day.
They ended up stopping for the night at a little motel just after sunset. Marie was dying for a shower but figured she would let the man still spottily covered in long dried blood have first go of it. Both of them looked like they'd been through the wringer, but out of the two of them, she appeared the less worse for the wear. Plus, she was stiff, exhausted, and pleased to get out of the truck and move about freely for a while.
"Well, I dunno about you, but all this riding around has me starvin' half to death. I'm gonna go grab something. You want anything, Creed?"
The man grunted in something she assumed was assent, based solely off her years of deciphering Loganese. Not that she would ever mistake him for Logan beyond the superficial similarities.
Victor had paid for the room, so the least she could do was pick up supper.
She didn't really like having to share a room with him, but she was too tired to argue against it. She knew she wouldn't sleep deep in a strange bed, anyway. Creed was dangerous, no doubt, but so was she. But really, at this point, it looked like she was in more danger of forgetting herself and jumping the feral's bones than him outright attacking her.
At least there were two beds.
"Right then, I'll be back in a sec," she called to his retreating back.
In reality it took her almost twenty minutes to grab something from the diner across the way. Juggling the food and the key, she managed to make her way inside. About two steps inside, to be precise.
The air in the room was close- contrasting markedly with the cool, fall weather outside- because someone didn't see the need to turn on the fan when he took a shower. But that wasn't what stopped her.
The steam from the bathroom billowed out into the bedroom because the bathroom door was open, the tub in her direct line of sight, along with the figure perched on its edge.
Marie was confronted with a very naked, very cut, freshly showered Sabretooth.
For an instant, she stood speechless because that was not the sight she expected to see upon her return. There was a persona or two, Logan, in her head that voiced their disgust. But Marie, on the other hand-
Hot damn, Christmas's come early.
"Oh. My. God," she blurted, rooted to the spot.
Unwillingly, she drew her eyes from his abs up to his face and of course found him watching her.
Victor smirked, dragging the tiny towel through his hair, heedless of the very unclothed lower portions of his anatomy.
The man had no shame.
Marie snapped back to reality.
"Would it kill you to shut the door?!" She screeched, backpedaling back out onto the walkway.
"What's wrong, see somethin' you like?" He called after her.
The old couple she had passed moments before gave her an odd look as she hastily jerked the door shut.
She pressed her back against the door and considered breaking into the truck and sleeping there, instead. She wouldn't; she knew: the promise of a real bed was far too tempting. Rogue would have to suck it up and try not to let the man get to her.
The dangling plastic bag at her arm weighed heavily as she mustered the shattered remains of her dignity and inched the door back open to peek inside.
The bathroom door was blessedly closed, no Victor in sight.
She settled herself on the first bed she came to and flipped channels aimlessly while she ate. He still wasn't out when she finished eating, and she wondered what the hell he was doing in there.
If she had hoped the man would come out clothed, Rogue was sorely disappointed.
She looked. Of course she looked. It was simply reflex. And she got more of an eyeful than she had before. She heard herself let out an undignified squeak.
Now, that's just embarrassing.
Marie pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. Maybe, if she pushed hard enough, she could temporarily blind herself. Not that it would do anything for the visual now branded into her brain. Even if it was a damn nice visual. Objectively.
"Why are you still naked?"
Marie pressed her forefinger and thumb against the bridge of her nose to stave off the impending headache. Plus, it gave her a good excuse to keep her eyes closed for another moment while she pulled herself together.
"I ain't sacrificing my comfort for your stupid sense of propriety. I sleep naked. Get over it."
She stared determinedly at his face. Nowhere below the neckline. Nope.
"But you're not asleep now," Marie complained. Apparently, 'fussy toddler' hadn't been too far off the mark. This was some sort of revenge for earlier, she was certain of it.
"Damn, you're right."
Then he stalked much closer than Rogue felt comfortable with. She found herself pressed back against the headboard, with an infuriatingly smug Sabretooth kneeling over her.
"What's wrong darlin'? You're acting awfully flustered."
The girl acted all embarrassed, and was definitely flushed. Huh. Victor wondered at that for an instant, until her scent wormed its way up to him.
Well I'll be damned.
The girl was hot for him.
Making a snap decision, he grabbed the plastic bag off of the central nightstand before leaning in to whisper in her ear.
"Now, if you'll be a doll and get off my bed so I can eat my dinner, I'd be much obliged."
He nipped at the lobe, unable to resist teasing her a bit more.
"Please, Rogue. And thank you, Rogue," Victor said, leaning back and dangling the bag in emphasis.
Her delicate brow crinkled as she eyed him distrustfully. She was confused.
Good.
This game was too much fun- definitely the most interesting thing to happen to him in years, and he didn't have any intention of ending it prematurely. But to that end, he needed to get her the hell away from him before he had a chance to rethink that.
"Go take a shower, kid. You stink."
He grinned toothily at her, and she glared at him. Her annoyance wasn't feigned this time.
The woman jumped off the bed and stormed past him. If he didn't know any better he'd think she was more offended at being called 'kid' than being told that her clothes smelled like carnage. If it was a sore subject for her, he was positive Jimmy had something to do with it.
She called him every vile name she could think of under her breath, grabbed her bag, and disappeared into the bathroom. Victor stole the bed and tucked in to his dinner.
His plans for the Rogue had shifted a bit. When he'd taken it upon himself to bring her along she'd been little more than a curiosity and a liability, and now he wanted to get into her pants.
He yawned and figured he might as well turn in for at least a cat nap.
If he didn't have the damned collar, his healing factor would have healed him enough that he wouldn't need to sleep at all for days.
Victor twisted and turned, in effort to get remotely comfortable on the too-small bed. The fact that the bedding smelled like her was a shade from torture, but it helped to mask the irritating scents of the room's previous occupants.
Yes, his plans had shifted, but not changed. He'd help her find his brother, finally get free of the damnable collar, and maybe enjoy her company along the way. The fact that it would rile Jimmy was just an added bonus. For once, Victor fell asleep with a smile on his face.
Marie slung her backpack down on the sink counter, and pulled out her spare clothes. No way she was gonna flounce out in her customary nighttime attire of a pilfered guy's t-shirt and undies in front of him.
She wasn't even sure why she was so annoyed. Maybe it was because she had never ever suspected Sabretooth of being a playful tease, much less having a sense of humor. Maybe it was because of the scratches he'd left at the juncture of her neck and shoulder earlier in the day that had still not gone away. Every so often, the metal beads of the chain would catch one and-
"Ugh!"
Was she really so hard up for human contact that Sabretooth was looking like a good option for companionship?
At one time, touch- or the inability, rather- would have been a valid excuse, but she had control of her skin now. Most of the time. It was a work in progress, but she could touch people without killing them, if she had a mind to.
One thing was for sure: once this was over, she was going to take a vacation far, far away from annoying, confusing, feral men.
His wet clothes were strung over the towel rack to dry. She washed the stains out of her own as best she could before laying them out beside his.
Marie was woefully underprepared for a trip to anywhere cold. Her backpack held a few changes of clothes, and she had her light jacket but that was it. She knew she should have planned for 'just in case I don't get back to the mansion,' but there was nothing for complaining about it now.
She'd have to convince Creed to stop somewhere so she could get a few things, though that would mean having to actually talk to him. And after whatever it was that had just happened, that conversation would amount to one too many bizarre Sabretooth encounters for one day. She'd do it tomorrow; it wasn't like she was up for going anywhere else tonight, anyway.
He was asleep or feigning sleep when she emerged from her own shower.
Despite her surety that it would take her ages to fall asleep in her jeans, not to mention being a few feet away from a known killer and sworn enemy of the Wolverine, she was out like a light as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The night passed uneventfully, or Marie assumed it did when she woke up before dawn the next morning to a hand at her shoulder and a pair of gray eyes hovering above her.
"Holy shit!" She ineffectively jerked her covers up to her chin in reflex. "We should put bells on that collar of yours."
Sabretooth glowered at her.
"I said your name three times. Get up, we're leaving."
And so she blearily toddled out after him into the chilly November morning.
They had already been on the road for hours when Rogue noticed the black SUV hanging far back behind them. They were being followed, and a glance at Sabretooth confirmed that he knew it as well. The driver kept their distance, and Marie only spied the vehicle from time to time in the rearview.
They were on a lonely stretch of highway with no other cars in sight when Victor swerved onto the shoulder and got out of the truck. No longer under the pretense of remaining unseen, their pursuer floored it.
"What are you doing?!" Marie shouted, wrestling her own seat belt.
"Runnin's the Runt's style, kid. Ain't never been mine," Creed called over his shoulder.
He swaggered out to the middle of the road and waited with arms outstretched and a maniacal grin on his face.
"Note to self: Make friends with people that are less crazy and possibly suicidal."
She finally got the belt free but was too slow and too far away to do anything but watch.
The black SUV plowed into Sabretooth at full speed.
A/N: Sorry for the delay. I had an emergency that derailed my writing plans last week, but it's sorted now. But far more excitingly: There is nearly naked Victor fanart for this chapter because when I first had the idea for this fic, I never thought I'd get further than doing drawing or two for it. It can be found on my DeviantArt account (Doodleholic) under the title "Sabretooth Shenanigans." Alternatively, the link is also on my profile (since this site seems to be against links of any sort in the fic itself.)
Next time: Chimichanga, Chilaquiles, Enchilada, Maple Syrup?
