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Victor had been acting weird the past couple of days after the challenge. He seemed to be brooding in random places and stealing glances at me whenever he could. It seemed that every time I paused in the hallway, I could look to the nearest alcove and see him staring back at me.

It was a tad creepy.

So, after two long days of it, I decided to call him out on it. After all, I didn't want him to be creeping on me tomorrow; it was my birthday.

And one of my personal policies is to always have a no-creeper birthday. It made the day better, I often found.

"Creed!" I shouted as I was walking down the hall to lunch. I could smell that Victor was in the vicinity, but I just couldn't spot him for the life of me. "I know you're there, you big stalker. Come on out; this is getting stupid."

A large figure suddenly dropped from the nearest bookshelf gracefully. Victor, himself, lounged against it.

"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow.

I gave him a look. You know, one of those looks. "Do you not have anything better to do than follow me around all day?"

Point-blank questioning. I like it that way.

"No." He said simply, picking at his nails. "The rest of the frails in this school annoy me."

"Well, you're annoying me."

"So?" He growled.

"So go away!" I threw up my hands in the air. "Go pick a fight with Logan! Go do something! I'm really not that interesting of a person."

My marks were spinning in irritation. 12:34 P.M. Seventy degrees. No wind chill.

Duh, we were inside. Sometimes I questioned my marks' intelligence.

He stared at me, watching. He did not respond.

"Why are you just staring at me?" I shrieked. "What's your problem, Creed? Choking on a furball or something? Why don't you get the message and just go away!"

Victor looked at me with hooded eyes. And chuckled to himself.

Chuckled. This man was getting on my last nerves.

"Why," I hissed, striding forward to poke him in the chest. "are you laughing at me?"

My finger was now poking a chest of solid muscle. I ignored it, or rather, tried as hard as I could.

Victor smirked with his canines. "You're cute when you get worked up, Stripes."

Cute? Cute?!

I hissed and threw a fist towards his smug face, wanting to wipe off all traces of his bravado.

Not even blinking, he caught it. His large hand wrapped entirely around mine, and his claws soon dug into me. Creed looked at me with an amused expression. "It's not going to happen again."

Gritting my teeth in frustration, I attempted to loosen my hand, but Victor held tight. Angry now, I kicked his shins, all my fighting technique gone out the window. I was steaming mad.

Victor's grin widened as he fended off all my blows, and before I knew it, my back was slammed against the wall and his body was covering mine.

I could feel every inch of him, pressed into me.

I growled as he held my wrists over my head in one of his hands. This day was certainly not what I expected it to be.

"Let. Me. Go." I glared at him, trying my hardest to imagine multiple daggers going into his brain.

Not that he had one.

"And why would I do that?" Victor said smoothly, looking down at me. "My mate has been ignoring me for the past couple of days and I'm feeling horribly neglected."

"I am not your mate!" I screamed. "Why don't you get that into your stupid, fat head, you idiotic feral?"

"Now, now, Stripes, you shouldn't lie." He grinned nastily. "I can smell it when you do. Now I'll have to punish you."

I squirmed even more. "Victor, let me g—"

And words failed me.

Victor had bent his head down and pressed his lips to my throat, right on my scar.

I stilled, gulping. My neck seemed to be on fire.

Slowly, he peppered kisses around my neck, moving from my throat to my collarbone back up to my jawline nonstop. My knees were shaking, and my breathing was haggard. I still wasn't sure what was exactly going on.

But my body liked it. My mind was hazy, and tried to disagree. Unfortunately, it couldn't.

Meanwhile, Victor's free hand had migrated behind me, and had slowly snaked up my back, slipping beneath my shirt. He dragged his claws down my back, and I hissed from the feeling.

I could feel rivulets of blood running down my skin, but the wounds healed quickly in their wake.

Instinctively, I arched my back, pressing myself further into him. Creed growled in approval.

His mouth slowly tore itself from my neck and travelled up to right beside my ear, blowing hot air into it. I shivered at the feeling.

"Now tell me." he whispered, huskily. "What do you want for your birthday?"

I gradually turned my face towards his, and we both breathed in a jagged tandem. I'm sure my face showed how confused I was. My mind and my body were fighting again.

I stared at him, conflicted.

"Don't fight it." He murmured. "Just follow your instincts. Tell me what you want, Stripes."

My nickname sounded like a purr when he said it.

My eyes darted all over his face, taking in his scruffy sideburns to his gleaming gray eyes. It was a nice face.

A perfect face.

His claws traced circles into my back.

I felt overwhelmed. It was too much.

Way too much.

My marks were too excited.

"I want…" I began, trying to get my breathing under control, "you to…"

"Yes?" He rumbled, anxious. His claws dug into my back deeper.

"Let go." I finished, panting from the effort. Our bodies reacted too much to each other. It was…dangerous.

We were dangerous.

His face froze, and then fell into a blank slate. His hands released me, and he stepped away.

I staggered back against the wall, leaning for support. I felt like I'd lost a limb.

Something was just…missing.

Victor's eyes hardened and his lip curled. "Now you know how I feel every day. Think about it."

And then he strode off, disappearing into an unknown hallway.

I slid down the wall, landing my butt on the wood floors.

What the hell was that? And why did I get this niggling feeling in the bottom of my stomach telling me that I had given him the wrong answer? What was Creed playing at?

I groaned and rested my head in my hands.

What the hell was going on?

I felt like I didn't even know myself anymore. Like I was a stranger.

Who was I?

"You like you need some ice cream."

Startled, I glanced up from my curled position and saw the little Jones kid staring down at me. His large glasses were perched on his nose as usual, and his dirty blonde hair shined in the florescent light.

"Yeah." I croaked, and proceeded to clear my throat. "I think I do."

His large eyes magnified by his glasses flickered over me. "Follow me." He said, turning, without seeing if I was following him.

I jumped up and followed. This kid knew what he was doing. He looked like he knew who he was.

After all, he was Jones. The clicker.

So that's how I ended up lounged on the sofa eating chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream with Jones, watching Animal Planet. It was very relaxing and comfy.

I totally understood why he did this all day.

Occasionally, Jones blinked and changed the channel, but I always bopped him on the head and made him turn it back. I liked animals.

He still giggled a bit every time I did that, contrasting with his serious persona.

He was a good kid.

The TV blared on, doing a special about wolves. "Wolves," the British narrator said in a snooty voice, "mate for life. They are very unique animals in the fact that which they remain faithful to their mates throughout their whole lifespan, never straying to go to another. The gray wolf, in particular, has qualities that…"

I bopped Jones' head, changing the channel. Like I needed to hear more about…

Mates.

I had just managed to get the issue out of my head for a little bit. I didn't want to revisit it.

The TV was now on a cooking show, showing some unknown chef make beef tip roasted asparagus…or something like that.

Ew.

"So." Jones spoke for the first time since we'd entered the TV room, not looking at me. "Where's your stalker?"

My throat clenched up. "Excuse me?"

He blinked, turning the TV to an infomercial. "Sabretooth? Why's he not with you?"

"Why would you ask that?" I frowned, staring ahead. "It's not like we're joined at the hip or something. I can do things on my own and so can he. We're two separate people."

"Are you?" Jones asked simply. He blinked again to change it to an exercise routine.

I think it was Insanity. Yeah, those people were insane.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He blinked again, not answering. PBS now. Oooh, it was Arthur.

"Jones." I growled. "Answer me. What is that supposed to mean?"

He finally turned to look at me, giving me a slightly curious stare. "You don't get it, do you? No, you don't see it, Tate. Everyone can see it but you."

"See what?" I nearly about screamed. "What am I not seeing here?!"

"You've changed." Jones said matter of fact-ly. "Ever since Sabretooth came here, you've been more passionate, more outspoken. It's different."

"He annoys me." I pouted. "He provokes me."

My marks swirled lightly in agreement. Or what I at least thought was agreement.

Maybe it was disagreement.

Traitors.

"He challenges you." Jones countered, sounding very mature. How old was he again? "He makes you think. Why do you think you hang around him so much?"

"I don't! He hangs around me! He's the one who's always following me and stalking me and watching me! He's the creeper here!"

"Then why did you issue him that challenge?"

Dead silence. My mind whirled as I tried to remember my thinking in which had lead me to challenge him. I had just wanted to…

Get a rise out of him.

Watch his cocky smirk form.

Fight him.

Touch him.

Stare at him.

Beat him.

Feel him.

I gaped, feeling all my emotions rush into me. It couldn't be possible. I thought it was just my feral side, but…

I couldn't possibly like Victor.

My eyes bulged, and Jones smiled a little at bit at my expression. He settled himself back comfily into the couch, blinking again. "My work here is done."

I rose, shakily and ruffled the kid's hair. "Thanks, Jonesy."

And then I ran.

Up the stairs.

Down a hall.

Took a left.

Up more stairs.

And to the right.

Finding myself in front of one super ominous door. Gulping, I picked up my courage and barged in.

I didn't bother to knock. He didn't bother with any manners, so neither did I.

"Victor, I-I,m—" I practically shouted as I entered and then froze at the scene in front of me. I swear my heart dropped like a stone in my chest, ripping all my organs in half. My hair stood up.

Some blonde woman wearing white lingerie was straddling my Victor, who was currently without a shirt. They had their hands all over each other on his bed, but had both looked up when I'd stormed in.

They both had sex hair. Or what looked like it.

"Stripes." Victor's eyes narrowed, malicious. "What a pleasant surprise. You're just in time to meet Emma." He placed his hands on Emma's waist and rotated her so she could see me.

"Oh, hello." She drawled, looking me up and down, all the while stroking Victor's chest. "You must be Tate. I'm Emma, Emma Frost. I've heard so much about you."

By now, I was shaking. With anger. With pain. With regret.

With hate.

And I knew he could smell it all.

Faithful, right. I don't think so.

My marks flared, spinning in rage. If I was a cartoon character, I swear steam would be coming out of my ears.

"So." Victor lazily raised an eyebrow. "What did you interrupt us for again?"

I steeled my jaw, keeping my eyes on Emma.

Emma demma. Emma gemma. Emma lemma.

"Get off of him." I sneered, cocking my hip out. "Now, before I tear your throat out."

Emma blinked slowly, trying to be sultry. Then she glanced at Victor. "She's not serious, is she?"

Creed looked puzzled by my behavior, as if he had expected to me run off at the first sight of them. "Probably." He answered, his eyes narrowed.

I stalked closer to the pair. My feral side grew, and my mind transitioned into thinking that she was the prey and I was the predator.

And she had just touched my mate.

Mine.

I snarled and lunged forward, yanking her forcibly off of him and onto the ground. She shrieked and stumbled to her feet, glaring at me. Her dainty lingerie looked like it was about to fall off of her.

Too bad. So sad.

"You bitch!" Emma screamed. "Now you're dead!"

Immediately, she turned into diamond. I'm not kidding; she was a solid, human-shaped, moving, sparkling rock.

Bleh. Who'd want to be a rock?

"Oooh, I'm scared." I growled sarcastically. "Sparkle Girl's gonna get me. Oh, no."

Hissing with anger, Frost ran towards me, fist raised in anger. Ready to punch my lights out.

Oh, honey, you think you're angry? You haven't seen angry yet.

She punched pathetically, to which I dodged, and I sent back my most powerful kick I'd ever given. A kick full of anger, pain, hatred, and loathing. A kick full of passion.

My foot hit her midsection. And her flawless diamond skin…cracked.

I heard it. She heard it. Creed heard it.

Emma stared down at the hairline crack that kept spreading and spreading…until she turned back to normal, gasping for air. She clutched her stomach weakly. I swear her undergarments were barely hanging on her.

Slut. Who just wears that around?

"Leave." I snarled. "Now."

This time, she actually complied. Limping towards the door, she gave me a deadly glare, and then slammed the heavy door behind her. She looked pissed.

Oh, who cares?

Yup, that's no one.

My marks practically skipped in excitement.

I turned to the other occupant in the room, whom was reclining on his bed, watching me with hooded eyes. I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I walked around the bed and stood in front of him.

Hands on my hips. That's the way for business.

"Why?" I said coldly.

Why, indeed.

I needed explanations. Now.

He was mine and nobody else's. I wouldn't share.