Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.
49. Creston: Halloween Novelties
"Green suits ya," Victor said as Isabel put on her viking tunic.
He better like it. She had spent the week sewing from morning to night. Sort of. She had gone online and searched for viking clothes, then she'd put together simplified versions. Victor had gotten the belts and the bear pelts, then he had made actual boots from the pelts.
"Victor, my love, you can make me boots every winter. Dis are de most comfortable, hot boots I ever had!"
That got a smug smile on his face, and got them late too.
By the time they got to Lena's, they had to drive about before they managed to park. The place was bursting at the seams.
"Ugh, I hate Halloween," Isabel grumbled as she got Lilia out of the car seat.
"How come?"
"Everything is about monsters," she said. ""At least Carnival is about playing and jokes, and I still don't really like masks. But Halloween is all horror and scary and… I don't see de fun."
Victor locked the car then grabbed her by the waist, pulled her against him.
"Is that why ya tried so hard not ta be a vampire? 'Cause if ya ask me, ya make a great vampire."
She didn't answer. He had bought her a pair of fake vampire teeth but she had been adamant: if she was a vampire, he would sport a bloody neck. The teeth had stayed behind.
Isabel held back a smirk when Victor hesitated a few feet from the restaurant. Guess she wasn't the only wanting out of the party.
"Go in?"
"Yeah, let's go in."
If Don Sherman could have his way, he'd be working in the smallest community he could find in Canada. Well, maybe not the smallest, but definitely anywhere with fewer than 5,000 inhabitants, preferably about 1,000. However, he had a family to think of, so he had compromised: small towns with a nearby school and enough commercial areas that one needn't drive for long when one wanted to buy, say, a tricycle.
Of course his wife would have preferred large cities, and not necessarily because of shopping. She had always enjoyed going to the cinema and attending arts festivals, expecially if they included music and literature. She enjoyed going to the cinema and the theatre, too, and had once been a part of a small theatre group. Much like him, though, she had compromised.
Creston was Don Sherman's second posting with the RCMP. His first one had been in Manitoba, near Brandon, where he had met Amber and, in less than a year, they'd got married. She'd always been a happy cheerful person, optimistic and willing to face the future. Once she'd got pregnant, though, she'd changed a bit, especially once they'd moved to Creston. For some reason, Amber hadn't got on with any of the other Mountie wives in Creston, unlike what had happened in Manitoba, and, despite pretending that she was happy, Don was well aware the lack of friends took a toll. Ending her first pregnancy so far away from her family hadn't made it any easier and, once their baby girl had been born, Amber had ended up fighting against post-partum depression for nearly half a year.
The fact that Creston was closer to what Don loved than to what Amber liked, made him feel guilty, so he had taken up the habit of keeping tabs on any community activity in town and looking excited for participating. This, of course, included the Halloween party at Lena's Place.
Lena's had been their haunt of choice for a year now. The owner's daughter babysat for them regularly and Amber's doctor, Angie Dalton, was also a regular. Both women, Angie and Lena, had eventually become Amber's friends and, slowly, she'd been making more friends amidst the regulars.
Don himself had made a couple of friends, like Colin Ellis, who volunteered at Creston's SAR, or Jacob Clemens, brother-in-law of his colleague Nate, and even Lawson Becker. That young punk was soon to become Nelson Holman's brother-in-law, too. When Don had first arrived in Creston, Nelson was already dating Lyn Becker. Then he'd gotten a call to move elsewhere and, since Lyn didn't want to leave, he'd swapped the Mounties for a barman job. Don and Nelson got on really well and he'd ended up helping the guy keep the troublemaker Lawson in check. He wasn't really a bad kid, anyway, and Lyn was very fond of him.
That night, Don was sitting at Lena's bar counter having a beer while Amber chatted with Loreen Clemens in the other room, where the buffet dinner was centered, so people could have easy access to the stage. The Clemens had three kids, one of whom was Willow's age, and they lived two houses away from Lena's. It was not the least uncommon for Jacob Clemens to host poker games – played for pennies and dimes – and Don often joined the group. Tonight, there was a game set to start in half an hour or so, but Don had promised Amber he'd sit it out. Instead, he'd steeled himself for an annoying night of too much noise and senseless chat.
And then he felt the exact same feeling walk into the place.
Don Sherman had never seen that guy yet. He was tall and wide, built like a quarterback only bigger. The way he scanned the place, looking for potential threats, made Don think he might be a police officer or something similar. Fran met them at the door, welcomed them in, and the annoyance grew into something else. By then, Don was focusing all of his attention on the man, trying to read him as accurately as possible, and then their eyes met. He didn't like Don's steady gaze. He could feel the guy bristling with growing anger… like a troublemaker who's just found an excuse to cause some mayhem.
But then his wife turned to him with a smile, the girl in her arms stretching out for him, and the growing anger flickered away, leaving behind nothing worse than annoyance and forced patience. The blonde spared him a suspicious frown, studying him, then followed his wife to the other room.
Don asked Kent for another beer and moved on to the same room as the newcomers. The family was dressed up like vikings, he noted, looking for something to spark a dialogue. Near the stage, they greeted Angie. Amber and Loreen were sitting on a nearby table, as well as Loreen's sister, Doris.
Lyn and Pru were sitting with Angie. Don knew that Nate was on shift that evening, which meant Lyn was on her own till midnight. Pru, on the other hand, would spend the whole night on her own as Nelson would be working as a barman till late. He always did on busy nights, and Halloween was busy. Adela and her boyfriend, Fred, were also there, but Don wasn't close to that particular pair.
Walking up to apparently join Amber, Don focused on the newcomers. He could tell immediately that the guy was annoyed with the table's company and was more interested in giving his daughter all the attention she wanted. The woman seemed happy to meet up with Angie, and Adela greeted her with her usual cheerfulness, but there was mostly a lukewarm feeling. Anxiety, too. Angie's table was packed and the woman was a bit uncomfortable. Don guessed she didn't know that many people yet and was nervous that she couldn't sit with the people she was already comfortable with.
The man breathed out with annoyance and looked around him, looking for a free table to sit at, Don guessed, and he decided to make a move.
"Hey, there."
That got him swiftly inspected from head to toe. He had the distinct feeling the man was studying him much the same way Don had been doing.
"I didn't know there were vikings in town. Newcomers?"
There was something unnerving in that icy gaze and Don decided to steer him to the bar, away from Amber. Perhaps go outside for a smoke.
"We arrived last month," he said, calculating his every word. "I didn't know there were pirates in town. Ain't Creston a bit landlocked?"
Don looked down at his stupid striped pants and the fake foam sword, then he looked back at the guy. Following a sudden gut feeling, he smirked.
"Last time I checked, vikings were pirates too."
A spike of amusement and the tension in the man's body eased.
"Yeah. But vikings had a good fashion sense." He glanced down at Don's pants. "If ya know what I mean."
"Touche. I'm Don Sherman, by the way."
"Victor Creed-Kredall, an' this here is my lil' viking: Lilia Victoria. Say 'hi', baby girl."
The ease of that introduction threw Don off his balance. The level of annoyance and suspicion just a minute ago didn't fit in with…
"And my Isabel," Don looked and realised that Lyn and Pru were already introducing the woman to Amber, Loreen and Doris. "I call her Nesi, fer short. It's a Spanish nickname."
The woman, Isabel, looked expectantly as her husband said 'He's Don Sherman'.
"Oh, hi!" She beamed shallowly. "Lyn and Pru told me about you. You work wid Nate, right? How are you?"
Don nodded a commonality and the woman turned to Amber with eagerness, saying Rosie babysat Lilia and that she'd mentioned Willow was the sweetest girl around. He could tell she was anxious to make a connection with the women, but it made sense, he guessed. If the family had just arrived and they hadn't yet made friends… On the other hand, he wasn't exactly interested in letting the guy's family get too close to his own.
"So, I hear ya're a mountie, huh? I'm in the security field too, but I work fer big companies abroad. All very hush-hush. Apparently, pirates these days favor fancy suits and ain't as easy ta spot as in the good ol' days."
Once more, the information offered didn't match the caution he could still feel emanating from the man. There was something not quite right. The girl got restless and he tried to distract her.
"Pappa knows ya don't like noise, baby girl, but ya gotta get used ta it. There's no two ways 'bout it. No, there ain't."
Once more, Don got a weird feeling. You don't force babies to get used to clatter, outside being able to sleep with a low level of noise. At least as far as he knew.
"Rosie is babysitting some of the younger kids in the other room," he decided to say. "It's quieter."
That got the guy's attention, and he quickly told his wife he was taking the girl to Rosie. It was a lapse in his judgement, really. Don had still been looking to get the man further away from Amber and he hadn't expected Willow to come running to him, yelling 'daddy, daddy, 'ook!"
He crouched to look at the doll, its face freshly scribbled with felt tip pens, as uneasiness bristled inside. He tried to coach her back to the toys and the other kids, where Rosie and Marissa were busy with the children, but unfortunately, the girl looked up and pointed at the man's kid.
"Baby," she said, eyes shining.
The man took a cautious step to the side, before crouching and sitting his daughter on the floor, close to Willow. It was a completely different type of caution, though: he was clearly trying to keep his distance from… Don frowned, trying to make sense of the vibes he was getting. He was… He was trying to avoid being seen as a threat.
Willow giggled and tried to hug the baby but the little one fussed and pushed her away.
"Stop it, Victoria. Ya play nice, now. The girl is tryin' ta make friends with ya, so ya play nice."
Willow looked unsure, then gave the baby her doll. Once more, she grumbled and pushed the doll away angrily.
"That ain't no way ta act, Victoria!" He picked up the doll and rubbed it with his hands. "She is bein' nice and ya gonna say thank you, got it? That's how ya make friends."
"No!" Willow shouted indignantly, lunging for the doll, but Don grabbed her by an arm.
"Ya're right," the man said, still rubbing the doll. "Ya didn't give it ta me so I ain't got no business playin' with yer dolly. But don't ya worry none, girly, 'cause Victoria is very happy ya wanna share yer dolly. Ain't ya, Victoria? Say thank you to the girl, go on. Thank you."
The baby acccepted the doll from her father's hands and took it to her face, started nibbling its nose. There was something strange in that whole scene.
The man then scolded the baby for chewing on toys that weren't hers and carefully made her stretch the doll till Willow took it back. Her brown eyes very wide, Willow looked at Don, unsure, then she looked back at the man.
"Dah!" The baby said suddenly, getting on her knees to go after Willow and reaching for the doll. "Daaaaah!"
The guy picked her up, which made her screech angrily.
"She ain't used ta playin' wi' kids just yet. I'm gonna go get her own dollie so she doesn't try ta take yer kid's. I'll be right back."
Willow started following him, but Don stopped her, distracted her with the doll till she went back and joined Kristal.
Shortly afterwards, the man came back, the baby biting her fabric doll with a ferocious frown. He took her to Rosie and joined Don again, anxiety for his daughter muffling anything else. Don frowned. He was devoted to that child, he decided.
"Uh… That's a… I mean, baby pirates seem ta have better fashion sense."
He was testing the waters, looking for a limit so he didn't encroach. Don could feel that clearly. Perhaps the anger and suspicion he'd felt before was mostly due to being in a crowded place where he knew no one. Maybe he was about as thrilled with Halloween parties and costumes as Don himself.
"My Victoria is ten months old," he added.
"Willow is two years old," Don gave in, and a wave of relief rolled out of the man.
"Isabel's been tryin' ta find play mates fer Victoria. Says it ain't good fer babies ta be all by 'emselves all the time. I mean, 'sides the parents, obviously. They're supposed ta learn ta socialise an' stuff."
That's why the man's wife had been eager to hit it off with Amber and her friends, back at the table. He hesitated, but then made up his mind.
"I think she's probably about the same age as the Harper's youngest."
"Harper?" There was a spike of interest and… yeah, some level of hopefulness.
"Harland Harper is a teacher at Canyon-Lister Elementary," he explained. "We sometimes play cards at his brother-in-law's. Doris works at the bank as a clerk. She's a friend of Amber's."
He nodded, alertness coming back to the fore. It was the same stance of before, searching for hidden threats.
"So, this Harper guy… how well d'ya know 'im?"
Oh, yeah, security field alright.
"'Cause a guy says he's a teacher and everyone automatically assumes he's a namby-pansy, but there's all sorts o' people in all sorts o' jobs, an' some teachers… well, let's just say that havin' their throats slit is the least they deserve, if ya know what I mean."
Don got the feeling he didn't deal with tame stuff. The way he automatically looked for the worse in anyone coming near his daughter, he probably dealt with… probably with worse people than Don himself dealt with. Whatever 'security' he was involved in, it was not… He let his gut feeling run freely. It was less defense and more attack. 'Soldier', echoed in his mind. No, not soldier. A security contractor. A mercenary, basically.
"You're ex-military or something?"
Surprise and suspicion shot through the roof, then he went blank. Their eyes met. Don did not have much experience with this sort of thing, but he knew enough to know that Victor Creed-Kredall had learnt to hide thoughts and emotions from telepaths and empaths. Besides that, his icy eyes could have belonged to the coldest, most heartless murderer in the world.
"I've met a few guys in the military. They're all…" Don waved a hand and forced himself to relax, as if he wasn't giving the conversation much importance. "Everyone's got skeletons, and it isn't safe till they've all been dug up and dissected. Plenty of police officers are the same, true, but you got that military vibe."
The man didn't answer, and Don still couldn't sense the slightest feeling coming off him. Had probably had professional training. Perhaps he dealt with mutants regularly. Why else would he need training against them?
"I don't blame you. I've been lucky that I don't have to deal with the worst of humanity that often, but, yeah, some people act like they're the nicest human beings when they're nothing but monsters. It's why I prefer working in small towns. I've seen things…" Don shook his head. "Anyway, Harland Harper isn't the nicest guy I've ever met, but he's decent. And he is trustworthy around the children. That I can guarantee."
"How can ya be so sure?"
Don looked at the man's icy eyes. He was a mutant. The idea hadn't been fueled by any gut feeling, since the guy was still stonewalling his emotions, but the anti-telepath training, the way he'd rubbed his hands all over the doll before his daughter had been willing to pick it up, the way he'd mentioned the girl disliked noise and that she had to get used to it, his bulk, his stance… Maybe it was just the girl who was a mutant, but… It had struck him as odd from the beginning and, even if he was not an expert, he knew enough.
"There's ways of knowing," Don said purposely, holding his gaze. "I've got a feeling you know such ways as well as I do."
The man held his gaze, the iciness less aggressive than a moment ago.
"Yeah," he said slowly. "Ya could say I know quite a few ways."
A warning. He was dangerous, Don confirmed to himself.
"But most ways," he lowered his voice, "ain't ever necessary. Not unless my woman an' child are involved."
Don mulled it over and focused his senses to the utmost.
"A father does everything for his child."
The man nodded solemnly and Don was able to vaguely grasp a deadly determination behind… no, not behind. It was bolstering the man's psychic defenses.
"Anythin' whatsoever."
Don forced a half grin of confidence and looked over at the children.
"I know exactly what you mean."
"Good." The guy said pointedly. "So. This Harper guy is safe wi'the kids, huh?"
Don shrugged.
"Feel free to check for yourself and get back to me if I'm wrong."
"Don't mind if I do."
His defense softened slightly and Don could tell he was a bit tense, but he felt confident, too.
"I'm gonna get myself a beer. D'ya want one, Don?"
Don looked at him and the guy's defense lowered even further, allowing him to sense serene confidence. No, not confidence. It was more self-assurance bordering on cockiness. Of course, he was doing that on purpose so Don could read him. The guy could be faking those feelings, though. Especially because the cockiness seemed to imply nobody could face him. He was definitely a mutant, and whatever powers he had, they made him a dangerous enemy. That much was certain in Don's mind.
"Sure."
Don breathed out the accumulated tension as he glanced at his daughter. Well, he'd been posted in Creston two years ago. Another one to three years, and he'd surely be posted somewhere else. If he ever felt that man was becoming a danger that he couldn't handle, all he had to do was request to move to the least desired location in Canada. His family would be out of the asshole's reach in no time.
"Here," Don took the bottle. "An' try not ta do that again."
Huh? The man looked at him.
"I don't like bein' read. Makes no nevermind ya didn't go inside my mind. I still don't like it."
He was trying to clear the air, but he had also taken him for a telepath. Perhaps he should let him keep on thinking that.
"Nobody does," Don shrugged.
"Ya mean nobody who knows ya're doin' it," he smirked, his gaze on the children.
Don took a sip of the beer, annoyed. No one had ever noticed he was a mutant. In fact, Amber was the only one who knew about it, no one else, and only because he'd told her. It was unsettling to have been made so easily by a dangerous man, but, at the same time… The guy was a mutant himself. Don didn't think he'd ever met a mutant before. Not in the sense of talking to them socially, he meant. Still, it was risky.
"Look, I didn't come ta this hole in the middle o' nowhere ta step on anyone's toes, if that's what ya're thinkin'. I'm just lookin' fer a safe place ta raise my girl, and I know ya can tell I'm sayin' the truth. 'Sides, don't ferget you're the one who's been doin' the steppin' on."
Don shook his head, annoyance breaking through.
"If you don't want to step on anyone's toes," he hissed, "I suggest you shut up for good. Most folks, they only need to imagine they're getting their toes stepped on. All it takes is overhearing a suspicious word."
"I see what ya mean," he said quietly. "Ya're right. No caution's too much."
The guy's daughter was finally warming up to the group and, for the first time, Rosie was able to focus on other kids without the girl promptly crying for her. It was also the moment when Willow and Kristal decided to shower her with hugs and kisses. The baby girl fussed and complained at the attention, but she took Willow's scribbled doll, to the delight of the two toddlers.
"Ya probably don't really care 'bout it," the man said in a low voice, "what would ya bein' a mountie an' gettin' shipped around every two or three years. But I was wonderin' if ya've checked all the elementary teachers."
Every two or three years? He was outdated in his intel. It was more like three to five years these days. Some lucky asses had even made it to ten years, though that was definitely not the norm.
"Only the ones I've come in touch with so far."
He nodded and finished his beer.
"I intend ta check every single one of 'em. Ya never know who my daughter will end up gettin' in touch with, after all. I'll let ya know if I dig up anythin' fishy. If ya're interested, that is."
If the guy really was serious when he said he was only there to raise his child in a safe environment, then it might turn out useful to be on the same page. It might even turn out… I don't know, pleasant, maybe.
"If it's a solid lead."
He threw the bottle into a rubbish bin and went over to crouch near his daughter. Since Willow was still playing at hugs and kisses, though, Don joined him.
"Yer girl takes after her Mamma, huh?"
Don frowned immediately. He didn't want him near his family till he was sure he was up to no mischief.
"I just mean she's trustin', that's all. Victoria takes after me: she'll distrust everyone till I convince her it's ok." He made the baby roll over, which had her laughing. "I told ya, baby girl: Lil' Willow is tryin' ta make friends with ya. Play nice!"
Suddenly, a gong went off in the restaurant. Drats.
"What was that?"
"Time for the costume contest," Don grumbled.
"Just great," the guy grumbled. "I'd fergotten 'bout that."
Don shrugged and picked up Willow.
"There are worse things."
"Oh, yeah?" He got up with his girl, too. "Such as?"
"Being forced into singing karaoke."
He snorted.
"There'd be blood if anyone ever tried ta force me inta somethin' like that."
Somehow, Don got the impression he meant it close to literally.
"…was in a theatre club," Isabel reported excitedly through the car drive. "They did a musical one time, and Amber had singing classes. Well, was just one month of classes, in preparation to de play, but she was really…"
She sighed, the excitement fading slightly, as Victor parked in the garage. Why was he so quiet?
"Anyway, I don't want be too optimistic and say Amber was happy to meet me but… I liked her, you know. Loreen and her sister Doris are nice too… Oh! And Loreen is part of the choir, only she's in maternity leave for the time being. But Amber… I really liked her."
They had clicked when Isabel had mentioned she'd abandoned her country to come to Canada with her husband and baby daughter. Isabel explained to Victor that the other woman had had to leave her town in Manitoba, which was somewhere in Canada and, much like Isabel, Amber missed the pleasure of living amidst one's home town, knowing most everyone around. She knew he wouldn't understand why she found that parallel so powerful, but she tried to make him accept that it was important nonetheless.
And then, the theatre! Isabel had never really participated in theatre plays, but a friend of hers had and, besides, she'd performed in a choir so she knew what it was like getting on a stage for a public performance. Amber's eyes had shone as she mentioned going on the stage, and talking about her experiences with the singing teacher, too.
Lilia had fallen asleep during the drive, so Victor took her straight to her crib, Isabel dragging herself thoughtfully behind him. He hadn't told her much about Don Sherman. He'd mentioned he was a mutant but then had refused to say what powers he suspected the guy had. It had made her uneasy, both his general silence and his unwillingness to tell her about the man. On a hunch, she'd asked if he was a telepath.
"What's yer fixation with his powers?" Victor had grumbled. "That ain't the point!"
No, the point was that he was a mutant. What did she care if he was an alien! The only thing that mattered to her was what his abilities were. Focusing only on him being a mutant and, therefore, being someone to connect with because of his genetics alone, was about the same as saying that a blonde is the perfect friend just because they're blonde, nevermind likes and dislikes. But no. He'd deflected the conversation back to the women, focusing on the two sisters, Doris and Loreen. She'd given in and reported all the details she'd learnt..
"Loreen works in de laundry and has three children: one, two and four years. Nowadays, her only hobby is going to de cinema… and is about one time a month. She's always busy. Doris is a clerk in de bank and she has a girl – she's nine months and I already talked about visit dem on Sunday so Lilia Victoria can meet her – and she has a boy, three years. Doris likes cinema, too. Dat is what dey and Amber have in common: cinema."
Victor had pointed out she didn't care about films, which was true, but she liked checking their soundtracks so she could work that angle. Loreen apparently liked musicals, too.
"And I can always memorise de list of actors and de resume of de films dey like." Synopsis, he'd corrected. "Isso. Friends don't have to like everything de same, you know. Dey like de films, I like de soundtrack. Works perfect!"
Lilia had nearly woken up as they'd lay her on the crib, and Victor had crouched next to her, holding her little hand till she was deep asleep. Feeling tired, and knowing she'd have to be up to feed the child in a couple of hours, Isabel kissed Victor's forehead and said she was going to bed.
As she got to the bedroom, though, she sat on the bed with a sigh. She still hadn't given up on Lena: she was reserved and a bit of a workaholic, but Isabel liked her. She was friendly and had a practical no-nonsense approach to problems. But Amber… once the girls were older, they could organise little theatre plays. Musicals! If Doris's and Loreen's kids tagged along, it would be great fun.
She got up and started taking off the viking dress. She hoped Victor had liked Don Sherman. She really wanted him to make friends too. Someone he could meet in the evening and go to a bar to drink beer and watch sport, or whatever guys enjoy doing, unless he was a telepath, that is. But, hopefully, the guy's powers wouldn't be anything dangerous.
Isabel jumped when she felt a hand groping her, and slapped the arm immediately. Perhaps a bit too sharply, from Victor's sudden frown. She didn't want to tell him she didn't like it when he snuck up on her like that. Sometimes, it reminded her of… let's not think about unpleasant things.
"You scare me," she stuck her tongue out.
Hopefully, he'd think that slap had been supposed to be playful too.
He grinned, the frown disappearing. He pulled her to him and kissed her lazily. Oh, she'd need to be up again soon… He slid out his claws and trailed them softly up her back. Giving in, she broke the kiss and pulled his furry jacket.
"So, Mr Viking, where is your big, bad axe?"
He chuckled and pushed her onto the bed. Down to her underwear, Isabel enjoyed the short-lived stripping session. One of these days, she'd get him to do it properly for her. Nice and teasingly slow.
He climbed onto the bed, a claw ripping her bra into two (why hadn't she taken it off before he could ruin yet another one?), and held her chin securely.
"So, Ms Vampire, where are yer big, bad fangs?"
She laughed.
"Dat means you want be bitten?"
He kissed her before saying he doubted she had enough of a bite for him. Well, if that was his game! Isabel pushed him gently until he lay on the bed on his back, then stradled him and kissed his neck, nibbling it gently so she wouldn't repeat the disaster that had happened back in Portugal.
"Ya call that bitin'?" He pushed her away with an annoyed growl.
"You want dat I bite your jugular by accident again?"
His frowned deepened.
"As if a lil' bite was gonna bother my healin' factor," he scoffed. "And I wasn't thinkin' 'bout no accidents. I told ya ta bite me, didn't I?"
Did that mean he had liked it? Her heart beat faster at the idea. Because she had fantasised about biting his neck open again. Quite a few times, actually.
"Get out of de bed," he grabbed her arm as she tried to unstradle him. "I am not going to make a mess in de bed, Victor. De floor is more easy to clean."
Not to mention it was easier to replace a carpet regularly than a mattress. Isabel slid off the panties and stradled him again. Giggling a bit, she kissed his neck lightly before getting ready to…
"No," he pushed her away. "That ain't the right spot. It's right here, see?"
He slid out a claw and cut his skin very lightly. Isabel licked the thin wound and bit down hard. He hissed softly as blood came gushing out and she pulled back.
"Lick it," he said. "Quickly, 'fore the wound heals."
She did so. It tasted metalic, his blood, and a bit salty too. She engulfed the wound in her mouth and suckled.
"Oh, yeah," he purred, his claws scraping softly down to her hips, and she suckled harder, but got the impression the healing was mostly finished.
Straightening up, she looked down at all the blood coating his skin. She didn't have much time to appreciate the result, though, as he pulled her in for a hungry kiss, then licked the blood off her chin before kissing her neck and biting down on her shoulder.
"Ouch!"
"Sorry," he pushed her away breathlessly, rubbed his tumb on her face. "Sorry, didn't mean ta break skin."
But then he went back and licked the little wound. That was a nice feeling. Thoughtfully, Isabel put a hand on the nape of his neck as he nibbled around the bitten spot, occasionally going back to lick it.
"Ya taste so good," he whispered.
"Is ok," she said quietly. "You can bite if you want."
He stopped and slowly looked her in the eye.
"I don't wanna hurt ya," he said seriously.
"Is just a little bite," she smiled, but she felt a bit nervous and she was sure he'd noticed it.
When he bit her again, this time closer to her collar bone, she could feel his fangs sinking in and she clenched her teeth to hold back any hiss of complaint. Then he licked the spot gently, sucked a bit.
"Dat feels good," she told him.
And it did. It felt relaxing and comforting. She closed her eyes and he kept licking the bite area.
"Hey, are you asleep?"
Isabel's eyes shot open.
"No, no! I was just… uh… what's de word… enjoying!"
He didn't seem much convinced even as he kissed her lips.
"You like when I bite you and make blood?" He nodded and Isabel let her trim fingernails trail his chest.
She had often bit him before, and had even drawn blood on several occasions, but he had never said he liked it... of course, he'd never complained either. Anyway, his wounds closed so quickly that it had never even ocurred to her to be careful till that day back in Portugal. But if it turned out he enjoyed it and had simply never bothered to mention it...
"Tell me where I can bite."
"Anywhere ya want," he smiled.
"Anywhere?" She arched an eyebrow and he chuckled.
"Almost anywhere."
She leaned over and gently nibbled his shoulder.
"Here?"
"Yeah."
She kissed his chest softly then grabbed his nipple in between her teeth, pressing slightly before letting go.
"Here?"
"Yeah," his voice came out hoarsely and she looked up at him.
He was taking in deep breaths and Isabel got mesmerised by the intensity of his gaze for a moment. It was really just a moment, though, as he kissed her suddenly, almost violently, and she had to actually fight to push him away for a second.
"Do me first," she demanded under his frustrated growl. "I let you bite me, so you do me first."
Because she was far more sleepy than horny, tonight, which meant she needed a proper warm up, especially as he seemed to be spoiling for some hard and fast action. She didn't need to insist, though. He plunged down, his fangs teasing her skin as his tongue roused her body.
She could still taste his blood on her lips and she licked them. It did taste good. She could get used to this, even if it meant letting him bite her a bit more seriously on occasion. She could really get used to it.
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