GENERAL WARNING FOR STORY: ADULTS ONLY. Violence, blood and gore, coarse language, adult themes, coercion, and sexual content. If you don't like it then don't read!

DISCLAIMERS: Same as chapter 1.

A/N: I completely adore you, you reviewers are awesome! Whisper gets the green light, as do the bits in between the lemons – thank you! :) I'm also really relieved, I never know how each chapter will be received till I post it.

Hope you enjoy this too!

~ Nyx ~

Ref: The lyrics quoted is from Black Heart by Stooshe.

CHAPTER 11

Anders slid an iPad across the transparent table to Victor. "The mark. He leaves victims like a trail of breadcrumbs, he's led us a merry chase –"

Sofie jammed the headphones over her ears. These weren't the standard handouts where the ears twisted mostly off the ears than on. Oh no, these had the whole comfy cushion deal going on that wrapped lovingly around your ears and the switch that filled your ears with an almost audible vacuum that cancelled out most of the external noise; randomised chart music drowned out the rest. Any curiosity over shady dealings had been well and truly stamped out of her system by Blaine, and she especially had little desire to be caught up in any skulduggeries of Victor Creed.

Sofie's first flight in a private jet was a bittersweet memory. Still eighteen and painfully naïve, before all of Pa's money problems, before all the hell that followed the wedding, Blaine had whisked her off to DC for a fairytale weekend away. It was one of her happiest times with him. Her first and only love, she had fallen hard.

It still caused her a dull ache to think of it now. As soon as Blaine had revealed his true self and tore off her rose-tinted glasses, she could see that the signs had been blindingly obvious all along – the hissed phone calls behind closed doors, the smashed whisky tumblers, the endless parade of so-called aides, associates and colleagues of all manner of questionable respectability dressed in sleazy shiny suits and over-exaggerated bling. There had been an important deal gone south, he'd explain. He was just stressed from his "associates" trying to pressure him into a dead-end strategy. He was concerned for one of his employees whose entire family had perished in a tragic house fire. There had always been some plausible reason to explain away the snap of his temper, and she'd been easily fooled time and again when he'd smiled that smile and lavished her with his time and attention and praises.

Blaine had dragged her along on "business" trips several times during their sour marriage, but she had been in no state of mind to appreciate the comforts that she had so enjoyed on her first trip aboard his jet.

Which made this flight all the more remarkable. Sinking into a luxurious armchair as the stewardess took dinner orders to be prepared by the on-board chef, despite being stuck in close quarters with the mutant who'd had his fangs over her throat, Sofie experienced a sort of resignation to being committed to the flight and going nowhere for its duration, and found that she could let go of her worries about the future as she hadn't been able to in a very long time. Feeling as though the world held its breath and suspended its motion while the plane cast them mid-air, she actually found herself relaxing.

The cabin was upholstered in cream, with soft leather and plush carpet, and spaciously placed sofas and armchairs instead of the usual cabin seats packed like sardines. And the toilet was actually roomy. She'd even swung her arms around in circles in there, simply because she could. Then there was that room at the very back of the plane, the one that had made her abort her earlier exploration and promptly return to her seat...

The private airstrip had only been a five-minute drive away from where the limo had picked them up, a distance that Victor could have easily tagged onto the end of their descent down the mountain. Sofie could only guess that Victor had wanted to check out these men beforehand, something that she'd only been able to consider once she'd calmed down enough from his going ape shit. Pre-flight security had taken mere minutes, and it had all gone smoothly – except for that one nerve-wracking moment when the attendant had paused over Sofie's passport and she had worried that Blaine had raised some sort of alert, but it hadn't taken long after Anders had approached to ask after the delay for the attendant to apologise that it must have been a glitch in the system. Within minutes they were in the air.

Cotton-candy clouds packed the vista as far as she could see from wing tip to horizon, an illusion of a fluffy bouncy carpet under an eternal blue sky. Sun glare glistened the forward corners of the small windows running the length of the cabin.

Sitting there, with harmless songs washing over her as she gazed out over the Earth, her heart constricted with a sudden recollection of her Pa. Could he look back now, she wondered, and see her suffering of the past eleven years? She sincerely hoped not. Some secrets ought to be protected in whatever afterlife awaited them beyond, so that the dead could rest in peace and not worry for the living.

It was the sight looking remarkably like the popular portrayal of heaven, she realised, that made her feel as though he was right there with her. The vista at such altitudes was crystal clear, too high in the atmosphere for gray clouds and most pollutants. She and Pa had enjoyed many a similar view in the mountains during their hikes, the cleaner air lending the same crystalline effect to the view.

A hot rock lodged itself in her throat. She took a deep breath, knowing Victor had little patience for tears unless he was the cause.

Luckily, however, the next song in her ears chased away the memories before she managed to peeve him off.

I don't like it when you break me honey
Why'd you have to do that?
Tell me when you'll make these tears keep falling
Do you feel like a man?

Her lips curved in a smile, darkened just a little by the fading grief.

Figure, figure there's no working you out whatsoever
Only one way I can sum you up altogether
You got a black heart

Oh, so true, so true. She sipped at her wine to contain her amusement, her grin widening as the clear, strong voices sang in her ears.

Daddy I've fallen for a monster
Somehow he's scaring me to death
He's big and he's bad
I love him like mad
Momma, he's the best I ever had

She choked on the Prosecco. Not that she was falling for him – or for anyone ever again for that matter, she had also been cured of such fanciful notions by Blaine – but boy did this song have Victor written all over it!

Belatedly, she remembered that while she couldn't hear her own snorts over the noise-cancelling headphones, the others could. She peered between the two armchairs in front of her.

And nearly fell out of her own seat as smoldering eyes stared right back. Her face burned. It was just her blind luck that Victor would also be able to hear the words warbling through the headphones...

"She's not here for your amusement, Creed."

Anders' usual cool-as-a-cucumber voice was brittle with underlying panic. Sofie rubbed the rest of the sleep from her eyes after her hour-long nap and peered around the wide curve of the armchairs in front of her.

Victor reclined on a sofa placed sideways under the small windows, his long legs stretched out. The stewardess was frozen with her hand on a large empty dish on the table before him, pinned there by Victor's claws. Anders was sat bolt upright across from them, clearly trying to divert the feral's attention from the terrified woman.

"Should'a thought of that before you put us on the same plane," Victor smirked, eyeing up the tight skirt.

"She wasn't meant to come," Anders rushed to explain. "The usual attendant was ill, and there was a mix-up with his cover but there was no time to find another."

"Then it must be fate."

The stewardess whimpered as one of the claws began to scratch at her arm.

Sofie bit her lip as she looked on. She had wondered at the blond stewardess' safety when they had boarded, but had presumed that Anders wouldn't have brought the woman if she wasn't safe. Of course, Sofie should have known that there wasn't any way to protect anyone from Victor.

"It's an error," Anders argued. "Come on, Creed, I haven't finished filling you in on the plans, let her go."

"We'll take a break," Victor rumbled as he swung to his feet and yanked at her wrist. The stewardess gasped, landing against his solid chest.

"Creed!" Anders cried out.

Sofie was already leaping out of her seat. "I've totally lost it," she grumbled to herself as she dashed up to them. Victor was faced away from her, and she did the only thing she could think of – that she was prepared to do – to get his attention in a hurry. She slid her hands up his broad back and down over his shoulders.

"Hey, big guy, can you cut her some slack?"

Anders and the woman looked at Sofie like she had grown a second head. She didn't blame them, she wanted to look at herself in the same way. Big guy? Where the heck had that come from?

Victor paused, then half turned to glance over his shoulder. "Are you begging?" he asked meaningfully.

"Ohhh, no. No! No no no. God, no." Was she clear enough? She didn't want there to be any misunderstanding. No way was she begging him to fuck her.

Victor growled, flinging aside the stewardess' arm as he rounded on Sofie. "Then what the fuck are you interrupting me for?"

It was only when he turned fully towards her that she noticed his eyes. Glinting with a feral light that called to mind the previous morning when he'd been more animal than civilised, she only then realised what she had interrupted. Oh shit...

He stalked forwards. "You ruined play time, frail."

She backed away, almost fell over a chair and stumbled around it.

Victor was relentless. "You're taking responsibility."

The plane was spacious but it wasn't endless. She hit the wall of the toilet. Before she could move around it, his hand found her neck and claws dug in, painful but not so terrifying as when he'd had his fangs around it. Which was totally stupid, because his hand was no less lethal than his jaw. Her hands rose instinctively to push him away, but only ended up with one of her wrists pinned to the wall. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Anders and the stewardess rooted to the spot, still watching them, but there was nothing they could do.

Victor was always huge but he loomed even larger in the closed space of the cabin. All signs of the leniency he'd displayed in the hangar earlier was gone. Sofie's stomach wanted to worm down her legs and disappear below the clouds. Eyes glinting and animalistic, he leaned down to kiss her.

Oh, the adrenaline of panic. It could wipe her mind clean or give her a Eureka moment. Fortune favoured her this time.

"I'll make you a deal!" she gasped, turning her head aside at the last moment as much as his grip on her neck allowed.

A rumble issued from the huge chest. "You're stalling, frail," he hissed dangerously, a fang scraping one of the twin lines on her cheek, his breath hot and moist on her cheek.

"Of course," she admitted honestly; lying would only make things worse. "But you'll like it!" she croaked as Victor's fists flexed. The words registered and he loosened on her neck again, although his grip on her wrist remained bruising.

"I can do something you've never experienced before. Or at least, I don't think you have. Or maybe you have... But I'm pretty sure you haven't, you probably haven't –"

"Frail," he snapped in warning, interrupting.

"I'll show you, Victor, if you let me go. If it is something new, then you'll leave the stewardess alone. Deal?"

"What if it isn't?"

"Then... I'll think of something else..."

He mused on it for a good few seconds, letting them all hang nervously. Eventually he released her but didn't step away.

"Right..." She edged her way out from between Victor's chest and the wall, and headed down the corridor to the dreaded back of the plane rubbing at her sore wrist. She paused when he just stood there watching her. She cleared her throat. "You coming?"

Chin dipped, he stalked after her. As she walked away, she didn't see his eyes glint in victory as though he'd caught the prey he'd been after all along.

Freaking Jimney Jimmy Christ.

Glistening, gliding, slippery and smooth, Sofie had to fight hard to keep her breathing even. Beneath her, Victor's deep purring reverberated along her legs and right through her core as though she was seated directly on the plane's jet engines. She leaned to and fro, maintaining a slow, steady rhythm as she rocked astride Victor's hips.

She still couldn't believe the plane actually housed a bed. A king-size bed, to be precise, in a sumptuous but tastefully decorated bedroom of muted browns and lilac.

Leaning with most of her weight as she kneaded her hands along Victor's naked back, the oil smoothing the way, she massaged his impressive array of muscles.

She'd been right. Victor couldn't recall having received a massage in his long memory. He'd been sceptical to start with, leering at her blush as she'd demanded that he strip off from the waist up and lie face down on the bed. But it hadn't taken long after she'd warmed the oil in her hands and began pushing firmly over his muscles for him to start purring. It had come as a surprise to them both.

Whatever else Victor was, she couldn't deny that he was smoking. Scorching, sizzling, shazam, the whole nine yards. His every line and bulging muscle screamed of masculinity, a forceful essence of man who was so much more than just a man, that would have made an absolute fortune had there been a way to turn it into a cologne. To have this powerful man purring like an idling muscle car and practically melting into the bed under her ministrations was more empowering than she could have ever imagined.

A smile played on her lips as her eyes followed the path of her hands, the slight dip in the impressive contours of Victor's back created by the firm presses. She didn't hold back, knowing she couldn't possibly hurt him, and he seemed to bask under the pressure she exerted. His head rested sideways on the pillow and she took the opportunity to study his face. He was the most at ease that she'd ever seen, his usual intimidating expression relaxed, still sexy as fuck but not so I-will-fucking-devour-you-right-this-second terrifying. More than kissing, more than the forced mutual blowing the previous night, it occurred to her that this might be their most intimate moment yet...

The realisation brought her hands to a stop at the base of his spine and she swallowed hard. Reaching for the towel she'd grabbed earlier, she wiped off the excess oil before slipping off his back.

His purring faded away.

"There," she said quietly, sitting on the bed with her back to him. She continued twisting the towel in her hands.

The bed dipped and the coverings rustled as he rolled on his side, propping his head up on a fist. He watched her for a moment.

She inched off the bed. "I'll, uh, be in the other –"

She yelped as he grabbed her hair and yanked her back down. Her rolling away was predictable, and he rolled with her until he was pinning her face down.

"We had a deal, Victor!"

"We sure did. But you never said anything about me leaving you alone, frail."

... She actually hadn't. She wanted to cry. How stupid could she be? Though she doubted Victor would have simply agreed to anything of the sort.

Strong hands stroked down from her shoulders, over her back and ass, down her legs, and all the way back up again. Oddly, there were no claws, just firm pressure rubbing into her body still a little sore from all the activity the previous few days. She remained tense for long minutes as he sometimes kneaded in smaller circles where he felt tension, other times working general areas. But little by little, she let herself relax as he continued to do nothing else, effectively just stroking up and down, making no attempt to strip her of her clothes.

He shifted his attention so gradually, and her own arousal built so slowly, that it took a long while for Sofie to notice. His hands maintained their rounded, soothing pressure all over her back and legs, but in the smallest increments they began rubbing along the inside of her thighs. By the time she realised that his hands were rubbing the crotch of her jeans, she was already breathing deeper and was already starting to get wet.

She tried to roll out from under his hands but he leaned some of his weight on her back, reaching under to rub the mound between her legs more deliberately. He used his claws here to create more friction, and over the jeans there was no pain, just a delicious touch. His other hand slid higher, reaching for her breasts, and he squeezed and tweaked them with the same insistent but gentle pressure.

His tenderness was confusing. She didn't trust it. She was under no illusions that her massage had softened his natural instincts for domination and brutality to such a degree that he now treated her like a gentle lover.

She turned towards him, intending to search his face. "Victor, what –"

He claimed her mouth, with enough force to refuse her escape but not enough to bruise, just that same confusing gentle pressure, coaxing her lips apart and swirling her tongue with his own. With his hands still rubbing persistently over her, she couldn't help the shaky moan that he swallowed up. Her hands fluttered uselessly, caught between wanting to push him away but knowing she wouldn't be able to, and not really wanting to either. A part of her wanted to touch him in return, to feel his skin and his strength again, to have her arms and hands full of him, to draw him closer...

Closer? What on Earth? Catching herself, even knowing it would be futile, she made an attempt to pull herself free and jerked her head away, pushing at his chest. But the expected painful clamp-down never came. He simply followed her across the soft bed and maintained his firm, gentle caresses, his lips and tongue swirling and sucking tenderly over her neck and jaw.

Again she made a bid to distance herself, and again he persisted, his hold firm and inescapable but never harsh, ever warm, coaxing pleasure out of her with relentless sensitivity.

Incredibly, fully clothed as she was, she still felt the tension building, the stirring from deep within, forcing the breath from her lungs and freezing on the brink as her orgasm effervesced and surged. The edge beckoned, loomed, opened out before her at the point of no return –

He vanished.

She blinked stupidly as he suddenly withdrew, as his hands and lips and tongue abandoned her. She trembled on the precipice of climax, the ground whipped out from beneath her, leaving her teetering and unsatisfied.

Turning incredulous eyes at him, she caught his wide smirk as he stood beside the bed, pulling his top and jacket back on. Seeing the expression on her face, he actually laughed out loud, dark and self-satisfied. Without another word, he yanked open the door and sauntered out of the room, his mocking laughter floating back to her.

Oh... My... God... He didn't just... He didn't... Oh my God, he did. He just did! The fucker! Sleazeball! Ass fuck! Fuck, fuckity, fuck fuck!

He'd make her beg him to fuck her, he'd said. Was this his grand plan?

She might have been there for a whole minute before she realised that she was still gaping like a dead fish. She marched up to the door and went to slam it shut, but stopped herself at the last second. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he'd managed to rile her up so much, though deep down she knew that he already knew.

She closed it quietly and leaned against it, undoing her jeans and quickly rubbed herself to finish the rudely aborted climax.

God damnit, how disappointing was that! More insipid than one of Blaine's dinners to sugar up some corrupt Senator, worse even than a Watch This Paint Dry convention. This wasn't anything resembling the Everest basked in sunlight that she'd climbed the previous night! What had he done to her? She'd been happily taking care of her own needs for eleven years in her gilded prison, but just days with Victor and she could no longer satisfy herself. The asshole...!

Sofie took as long as she needed to think things through. Victor hadn't left her many cards to play but she wasn't entirely empty-handed. What the hell did he think she was, some hormonal teenager ruled by a dick? If he thought she would be so easy, he had another thing coming.

She returned to the main cabin to Victor's derisive chuckling. The stewardess was nowhere in sight, probably wisely hiding in the galley or cockpit.

Anders stood hesitantly as she passed him. "Are you all right?"

Glowering at Victor stretched out on the sofa, his smugness radiating out like an oily bubble that she couldn't wait to squelch, she smiled without humour. "Just peachy. Did he leave her alone?"

"Yes."

That was consolation at least. She met the tall lawyer's gaze, saw the concern and guilt leaking through his stoic expression.

"That's two you owe me."

A/N: Cruel, cruel Victor! Mwahaha! But Sofie's not about to take it lying down...
*oh, cringe, awful pun!*

And no, glistening and gliding and rocking on his hips wasn't what you thought it was! We're not there yet my friends! :)

~ Nyx ~