I do not own the X-Men, only Rayvin!

Chapter 4

A couple of weeks later, I had to do something I hated the second I smelled a new feral: I needed Creed's help. I didn't feel like killing, and if the world knew I was working with Creed, they'd quit sending pigs to slaughter.

The morning that I first smelled the feral, was the morning I knew I would need Creed's help. That was also the morning that I threw a rather heavy rock at a mirror in rage, but that was expected.

I dressed myself and headed down to the new feral's doom. I unlocked the cell, and entered. Creed lifted his head, his dark hair long. He looked rather scruffy, like an adorable puppy that could rip out your throat faster than you could finish saying "Awww!"

As I moved slowly about the cell, I made sure to not make eye contact with Creed, and kept my movements slow. One look at his eyes and I knew: He was more wolf than human right now. His storm gray eyes were glowing slightly, which was usually a sign that the wolf was closer to the surface than normal. As I slowly unlocked his chains, I could hear the slight rumble coming from his throat. He leaned forward and nuzzled my neck, breathing in my scent and giving an experimental lick to the sensitive skin. I shivered, which made him bite down just enough for me to feel it, but not enough to break skin or cause pain.

His wolf definitely had more control right now. Creed may be occasionally human, but he wouldn't be this gentle. Only the wolf would. I gently pushed against his chest, murmuring his mutant name softly. For most ferals, their mutant name was also the name of their animalistic side. I was the special case, since I was given one at birth and dubbed another later in life.

Creed looked up and snarled at me, his gray eyes glowing a bit more intensely than before. Dear God, my arousal spiked when he snarled at me. Is that proof that I'm a fucked up person? Or is that my wolf?

A grin spread slowly across his face, giving him an eerie look. I slowly reached up and unlocked the last chain, his arm dropping to his side. I backed away from him slowly, gently grabbing his wrist and guiding him out of the cell. He cringed a little when the sunlight hit him, but he quickly adjusted and kept following me without any fight. I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head as I took him into the first floor bathroom to clean him up.

As Creed sat on the toilet and watched me, I grabbed the electric razor and cut it on. He snarled slightly at the buzzing sound, but didn't fight me as I shaved his beard. After a few minutes, I had his hair cut and his beard shaved off. I kept his mutton chops, because that was a signature look for him. His eyes never once left me, always looking me up and down like I was a prime cut of steak.

I took his wrist again and led him upstairs, into a guest bedroom, and pulled out some clothes that could fit him. I made sure that what I got for him would still make him look like Victor Creed, a.k.a. Sabretooth, that way he wouldn't be uncomfortable and people would know it was him.

He managed to dress himself, his eyes still on me. Throughout the whole thing, we both were quiet. I was somewhat submissive, not fighting him, because otherwise his wolf would rip me to shreds. He may think of me as his mate, but I'm also a powerful feral. In other words, he also views me as a threat.

Once he finished, he reached towards me and lifted my chin. "Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice gravelly from not talking for so long.

"I… need your help…" I murmur, not looking him in the eye. They still glowed, but less than before. Good. He was getting closer to human.

"What the fuck for?" he snarled.

"Don't you smell it? A new male feral has arrived… With intentions of trying to kidnap me…" I say, glancing once at his face to see his reaction. He stiffened, and started to growl low in his throat. "Your wolf has already accepted me as its mate… And I know your instinct says to kill any male who looks at me…"

My voice was a whisper, but I got the desired reaction. "Where the hell is he? He isn't going to fucking live much longer!" he snarled, wrapping his hand around my throat and lifting me off the ground. Ok, maybe it wasn't the exactly desired reaction…

I coughed and scratched at his fingers. "Main Street… One of the alleys…" I managed to choke out. He pushed my head back with his thumb, his claws digging into the skin of my throat. At the smell of my own blood, I went into defensive mode. I gripped his wrist with both hands and sank my claws into the skin, causing him snarl in pain and drop me. I landed on my hands and knees, coughing and clutching my throat with my bloodstained hands. I glared up at him, and he glared back. After that, he was gone.

A couple of hours later, and after I heard the sounds of some of the tourists screaming bloody murder, Creed was back and drenched in blood. Of course, I was too absorbed in fixing up my 1971 Plymouth 'Cuda to notice him, so he ended up catching me off guard. By off guard, I mean I didn't have time to fix my hair and let my bangs cover up the scar over my eye.

"Nice car," I heard him say from the garage door. I jumped slightly and turned to glare at him, not even realizing that my scar was showing. A few seconds later, I was being pressed against the wall and questioned. "Who the fuck did this to you?!"

"A male 125 years ago," I said, wincing slightly from the amount of pressure he was putting on my upper arms. If he pushed any harder, my arms would break.

"I'll fucking kill him!" Creed snarled, his eyes hardening into bits of steel.

"I already fucking killed him!" I snarled right back, my own eyes blazing like fire. His eyes widened, a look of utter shock on his face.

"You killed a full feral male? Without help?" Awe filled his voice.

"Yes without help! I've been a killer for 130 years, and about half of my victims were male ferals who underestimated my abilities," I growl, shoving him backwards. I stalked out of my garage and back into the house.