Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except Irbis and several innocent short-lived bystanders; everything else is Marvel's only.

20. Playing Cat and Mouse

Irbis opened the oven and slid in the tray bearing frozen meat. Creed was having a shower and she would follow his example shortly, but first things first: dinner. They had spent Saturday night, Sunday and the best part of Monday zig-zagging around the country to avoid any possibility of being tracked. They had taken a plane under aliases and left midway at a stopover; they had bought train tickets which had then been given to some couple who had been on their way to buy their own tickets; they had driven stolen cars and bikes; they had booked a hotel room and left in the middle of the night. Not to mention she had been wearing a wig and sunglasses, whereas Creed had put on sunglasses while wearing baseball caps and hoodies. The only thing they hadn't done was walk through the woods, far from anyone's spying eyes.

By the time they had finally arrived in Wausau, driving a newly bought car to replace the van that had been left behind in Madison, Creed was cranky with tiredness. Not that she wasn't tired, the journey had been very tiresome, especially on top of everything she'd been through. But even if she had shared the man's paranoia, she hadn't shared it to the point of spending every moment awake and looking over the shoulder. That meant she had slept enough, between night naps and day naps, which he hadn't.

So it all boiled down to that simple thing: dinner. He'd want something hot and substantial after his shower and before turning in for a well-deserved night. And Irbis was determined to add comforting and soothing to the adjectives for describing the dish she was preparing. Fortunately it wouldn't take long. She had had the foresight to make several meals and then freeze them, so that she might have food ready to go at a moment's notice, in case of an emergency. To prevent any foul taste from the freezer, she placed the food inside three different boxes and then renewed her frozen stash regularly. She'd only used the strategy twice so far, and both times – comprising of a rich stew, one of pork another of beef – she'd been successful.

For this evening, she had chosen beef chuck, previously roasted in the oven and cut into thin slices, which were now thawing in the oven. There wasn't enough time to cook anything to go with it, but fortunately Creed wouldn't mind for as long as the beef was tasty. Nevertheless, she had already put some frozen home-baked bread defrosting alongside the meat and was now choosing an assortment of cheese, smoked meats and sausages, wine and beer to enliven the meal.

Upstairs, the shower came to an end. Irbis finished setting the table for one then hesitated. Would the man want to eat in the kitchen, the dining room or the living-room? She considered the alternatives but couldn't guess a preference so she jogged upstairs, to ask him. Once in front of his door Irbis hesitated a-new, wondering whether he would be annoyed at the question or not, and exhaled forcefully before knocking.

"What?" She had expected him to tell her to come in, not open the door himself with a crossed expression. But most of all, she hadn't expected to see him wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, his wet hair dropping water droplets all over his shoulders and chest, which then trickled teasingly down his light skin. "What?!"

Feeling the searing heat on her cheeks, she forced herself to see nothing but the man's golden eyes. "Uh... Where you want... uh... eat... uh... Kitchen?"

Holding her breath at the crossedly lifted eyebrow, she was certain her very eyes were blushing. Yet she persevered in trying to act as if she wasn't embarrassed at all.

"Ya gonna black out if ya keep holdin' yer breath like that," he said in an almost soft tone that hinted at some mischieve. "Dinner's ready?"

Irbis nodded, then shook her head. "Is in de... uh... de oven. Meat. And cheese, and bread, and... uh..."

Creed leaned a shoulder on the doorway and combed his hair back with a hand, slowly, flexing his chest muscles. Irbis's eyes were distracted and attracted by the movement, and the heat worsened – she could feel it spreading to her neck and scalp.

"Where do you want eat?" And she hoped her voice didn't sound as aggressive as she felt it. "Kitchen, dinning room, living room?"

She noticed how he narrowed his eyes and a mischievous grin twisted just the corner of his mouth. "I think I'll eat here. Bring it all up, will ya?"

She left without even saying OK or just nod. She simply turned her back to him and flew down the stairs. Safe in the kitchen, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself and splashed some cold water on her face. It occurred to her he might be doing it on purpose – playing games with her – but then she refused to believe it. He would have to know, to try and play games. No. He was simply provoking her because she blushed. That was all.

But the doubt was there. Irbis checked the meat and the bread. He could smell things no one else could, after all. She took out a tray and started arranging the plates. She'd take the meat on the plate, she decided, and put the cheese and the smoked ham on the same plate, separated by a napkin to avoid mixing any flavours. Then she looked at the wine and decided against it. She'd take a couple beers once the meat was ready. But what if he knew?

Irbis shook her head to dispel her fears. So what if he knew? She had always been very clear when it came to sex, surely he wouldn't expect her to change her mind just because she felt attracted to him. It was just a stupid attraction, anyway. No. Not even that! Because he might have a nice physique, and even a certain nobility and dignity and fluidity that was very eye catching, BUT! And she sternly reminded herself of that important but: she was not, nor had she ever been, attracted to blonds (although his hair colour wasn't that irritating), over-muscled (even if his entire frame was breath-taking) or cocky assholes (despite his alluringly naughty boyish grin). And the man managed to fall into the three categories. So it was all in the eyes. Which were cold, and she didn't like guys who looked at folks with that cold 'I'm king of the world' aloofness.

So there! A perfectly childish, and everything but dangerous, fleeting infatuation. And surely he hadn't noticed anything. Surely.

"Like a pro."

Her stomach contracted, fear involving her like a poisonous gas, at the memory of his voice, his intense gaze, his strong arms, and yet the fear was followed by a sense of daring that bred a giddying explosion of pain and pleasure.

"But ya ain't no monster. Ya ain't like me. Got it?"

His fingers pulling her hair, touching her scalp like electrical cables, his eyes icy and fiery just inches from her face. Fear and daring, pain and pleasure mingled in her blood like evil twins in a friendly spar and she had to pull a chair and sit down.

"Ya wanted t'dance; ya can't refuse whichever song I choose now."

The memory of his voice, his hot breath whispering at her ear hit her as if she were reliving it and a wave of pleasure washed up and down her spine, evil pain biting bitterly in its ebb. She had told him off but, God!, she'd been so happy that he had insisted on dancing those songs.

But no!

And her mind once more betrayed her, letting her feel the heat of his arms encircling her. Forget the arms! The heat of his chest against her face, his calmly, quietly, thumping heart, the relaxed swaying of his breathing, the rumbling of his voice vibrating though his torso, the... and she couldn't help wondering how different it would have been hadn't that darned shirt been in between them. Her back arched at the wave of pleasure that hit her like a tornado, pain and fear making her whole body flush, and tingle, and…

No! No, no, no, no, no!

Infatuation. Simple, basic, harmless infatuation. And he didn' know, hadn't the slightest idea. Couldn't.

"Minha Nossa Senhora!" He's a psychopathic, murdering monster, she begged the saint. She needed to get over it as fast as possible.

And she would.

Irbis took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She needed to take the man's dinner up, anyway. And as much as he might harass her, she'd squash any and every provocation until he gave it up. She'd kill the game like a pro, his words; and Irbis ignored the tingle of excitement running up and down her spine at the challenge.

Like a pro, she got up and checked the meat. Darned! It was starting to get dry. She quickly poured some more gravy over it, then took it out and filled the plate. The bread had defrosted and was now hot and aromatic. Just as she liked. And again a wave of pleasure – no, not pleasure, she corrected herself, pride – a wave of pride washed over her at the fact that the dangerous, threatening man liked her cooking more than any other cooking. Not that he'd said it, but it was pretty obvious, the way he wolfed down anything she cooked, whether he was hungry or not.

Confident on her abilities to kill any games the man might try to start, Irbis picked up the tray and headed upstairs.

Sitting relaxedly on the bed wearing nothing but the silk sheets over his lower body, Creed waited patiently. The other night he'd spent with those two women – and great screamers they'd been – down in Utah had released most of the tension. However he was now very much aware that what he really wanted – screaming or no screaming – was Irbis. Willing and intense, which meant he couldn't force himself on her. But on the other hand, he knew – and probably better than she knew it herself – he knew she was attracted to him. But such a nice, young, fiery girl like her locked up and secluded away from home would sooner or later let her guard down and welcome his advances; she didn't look like she had the makings to become a chaste nun.

He wetted his lips at the memory of her gaze when she'd wrung the bird's neck, out in the desert. Outside the wind kept picking up and, remembering the weather transformation from menacingly overcast to steady snowfall, on the last hours of their trip, Creed was pretty confident that the blizzard conditions would last for most of the next day and probably the one after that too. He should try and check the meteo channel, but not tonight. Tonight he'd have a good nice sleep, after teasing the girl a bit.

Unfortunately, he had to wait quite some time to hear her footsteps. He noticed how she hesitated before knocking, the decided exhalation.

"S'about time ya got here!" He yelled in a purposefully bad mood before she managed to knock. "Get in already!"

Creed regretted the bad mood approach the moment she opened the door. It had helped her to forgo any embarrassment, instead of flustering her. Even the slight frown at seeing him in bed had felt more for practical reasons. And indeed the hesitation at coming forward was crowned by a searching gaze around the room.

"Where do you want de uh... ?" And she lifted the tray somewhat.

"Put it here," Creed patted the bed at his side and pulled himself up. "At least that smells good."

Irbis set it down obediently. "Do you need anything more?"

Yeah, he did. "Sit down."

She frowned and hesitated. "I said, sit down!"

She breathed out, slightly annoyed, but obeyed him. Her body wasn't turned to him at all, underlining her unwillingness to remain. He picked up a slice of meat, hot and sticky from the thick gravy, rolled it up and threw it inside his mouth. It had been frozen but it was still tender and he could hardly feel the stale taste typical of food kept in the freezer.

"Next time, take longer but bring me somethin' that's been freshly cooked."

The sudden disappointment on her face wasn't exactly what he wanted and he picked up another slice, rolled it up then leaned forward and offered it to her. The way she blinked at the meat then at him came closer to what he had had in mind.

"Take it." She held her breath and a light blush made its appearance on her cheeks. "Eat it!"

The impatient tone overcame her reserves, probably convicing her this wasn't any game he was playing on her, and she brought a reticent hand to the rolled up slice. Just before she could touch it, though, he took it back and ate it all himself. The embarrassed blush received the company of annoyedly clenched jaws and Creed had to to hold back a grin. While still chewing the meat, he rolled up a third slice and again offered it to her.

"Bite it," he said sternly through his munching, "and ya better not keep me waitin' like ya did last time. I ain't about ta spend the entire night with my arm outstretched fer yer ladyship t'decide t'obey."

The jaws lost their pressure immediately and she blinked, slightly confused. "Why?"

Creed swallowed up and thought quickly, sorting through several possible answers. "Thought ya said ya was gonna obey my every order without no questions."

"Yes, but..."

"Take a bite." And Creed pulled himself closer to her, raising a knee that stole fabric away from around his waist, raising his hand until it was level with her face.

The blushing was spreading provocatively as she finally unglued her gaze from his face and focused on the rolled up slice. Creed had to swallow as he saw her open her mouth gingerly and approach the meat. She hesitated, not being in a comfortable position, and a hand came up to steady his own, even if it needed no steadying, but then it repented and turned to a fist before receding hastily. She closed her lips to swallow down then opened them again to take the tip of the roll. Creed licked his lips hungrily.

"Take a bigger bite," and it was an effort to keep the muskiness off his voice. "Or ya won't be able t'taste nuthin'."

Irbis looked up at him, no frown on her forehead, then brought her hand up to his. The touch was like fire and he couldn't help the shudder that swayed the meat right and left. Irbis took such a bite he could fancy he felt her lips touch his fingers. He clenched his jaws as she stole away, chewing thoughtfully, leaving behind the strong impression of her hot, wet breath on his hand. Almost casually, he picked up another slice and stuffed his mouth. And another one. And yet another.

"I suppose is a bit dry..." She looked up at him, the blushing receding. "Do you want dat I do something else?"

Creed shook his head, still working on swallowing the mouthful. He picked the beer bottle and made the cap pop, which for some reason brought a light half-forgotten smile to her face.

"Bem... If you don't need nothing more, I go have a shower too."

He narrowed his eyes hungrily as he finally released the grin he'd been holding back. Her face reddened instantly even before he could get a word out, rumbling. "Need somebody ta rub yer back fer ya?"

"No, thank you." She got up daintly and Creed closed a fist to keep the hand from grabbing her wrist. "I can do it alone."

He watched her leave, closing the door behind her. He heard her hesitate for a moment and he grinned victoriously at the shuddered exhalation the woman let out before going on to her room. He heard the door open and close and there was silence for a moment, while she undressed, he guessed. Sitting cross-legged on his king-size bed, Creed listened for the slightest sound with his breathing nearly suspended. The clothes she'd been wearing being thrown into the hamper, the opening of the shower, the different tonalities of the running water against her body, the nearly inaudible sound of her hands vigorously rubbing her body with soap, her hand and elbow hitting the wall hard when she slipped, followed immediately by a light complaint. And again the water... hitting the bathtub from high above while she was rinsing the shampoo off her hair, then the sound being muffled when the head of the nozzle was brought against her torso... hitting the wall when she rubbed her arms... then handfuls of water falling heavily against the bathtub bottom as she continued rinsing her lower body... the sharp downpour of the shower nozzle losing intensity as it trailed down her legs... a final passage, in a quick upwards surge, and the water was turned off.

Creed took a deep breath and tried to relax when the sounds nearly muted themselves after Irbis had picked up the towel, but he couldn't. His body was on fire and he didn't even feel hungry enough to finish off the meat. Grumbling, he got up and headed for his bathroom. She was standing, drying herself, on the other side of the wall, and not even the cold water he dropped abruptly over himself cooled him down. Only when he heard the door open and close, and then heard her footsteps down the staircase did the cold shower start having a calming effect on his burning blood.

It was almost with a sigh that he returned to his bed, where the tray with the beer, the meat, the cheese and the bread awaited him. He still didn't feel particularly hungry, though, and simply flopped down on the wide bed. The beer he'd opened earlier was on the bedside table and he stretched an arm for it, drinking it thoughtfully.

He wouldn't be able to leave for at least a couple of days. Even after the blizzard was over, he would most probably be stuck until the roads were cleaned. That meant he'd have plenty of time to toy with the girl. Not that he expected her to give in so quickly, but he intended to enjoy himself while he played cat and mouse with her, even if it did mean plenty of cold showers. He picked up a slice of meat and ate it, licking the gravy off his fingers.

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