Happy March 1! I decided to give you an extra chapter this week (I'll have another up on Weds. or stay on track) for two reasons.

1. I'm dying to get some more feedback from you all

2. I've put up a poll on my profile concerning where I go next with the story, and I want to get some feedback so I can continue writing (more on this in the AN at the end of the chapter). Please take the time to answer it.

Warning: this is definitely an M chapter. Read at your own risk. So where we left off...

Chapter 7

Jubilee let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, allowing her focus to shift to the sound of his heart beating quickly and the rushing of the blood through his veins. She could feel the light, fast throbbing beneath her finger and leaned forward. She let her fangs graze the sensitive point without piercing the skin, and she felt a shudder run through him. His arms slid around her, urging her to straddle him as she had the first time, and she went easily, feeling the heat from his body seep into hers. Yes, it would make more sense this way. Much more comfortable. Her breath came faster in anticipation of the bite, and she could feel his pulse jump against her lips.

When she sunk her fangs into his neck and tasted the delicious surge of his blood, she didn't fight the feelings that washed over her. Instead, she moaned, her hands moving to fist in his hair as images assaulted her. The last time she'd fed this way with him, she'd seen images of herself as she had been when they first met: young and carefree, mouthing off, laughing, and smiling up at him. Now, that girl wasn't present in his more recent thoughts. He was only thinking of her as she had been since arriving this time: sleeping on her stomach in his bed, reading a book on the floor in front of the fireplace, standing in her robe in the dim light of the kitchen, her body clearly silhouetted beneath the thin silk, and finally, standing in the bedroom only moments before, the silky robe clinging to her body while her skin was still flushed from the heat of the shower. It gave her a small thrill to know he was finally seeing her for who she was.

The desire rushed through her, and she honestly didn't take the time to wonder whether it was originating from her or from him. When the wound closed due to his healing factor, she bit him again and tightened her fingers at the base of his neck. This time when he moaned in response, she didn't pull away but allowed her tongue to trace over the puncture marks. She could feel his hands tracing up her back, one of them lifting the soft material of her top so that his fingers brushed against the bare skin beneath. Was that an accident? It didn't matter; it was her turn to feel a shiver run through her body, and she tightened her thighs around his hips, pushing down while he pressed up against her. The fire between them sprang up immediately, almost as if they were picking up where they had left off over a week ago. As his fingers danced along her skin, she moaned against his neck and allowed one hand to travel down to stroke through the springy hair of his chest.

Oh God, her mind could barely put together the words as she ground her hips down against his. She had been wanting this, literally dreaming about it. Was it really happening? It was so intense. So hot. When his hand slid around to cup her breast, she bit down harder and another loud moan escaped her throat. She arched her back to press her breast more firmly into his hand. Her body had never felt so alive and needy at the same time. Now, she thought, Yes. Now.

His other hand moved up to fist in the back of her hair, and he pressed her mouth more firmly against his neck. She bit again, and he bucked his hips hard up against her. She could feel his pleasure almost as clearly as she could feel her own at the movement. She twisted her hips, moving in long, slow circles. He responded by moving his hand back down her side to fist in the material of her pajama bottoms, guiding her into a faster pace.

She could hear his breath gasping in her ear, could feel the palm of his hand tracing up and down the length of her spine, and could feel the rush of his blood into her mouth. This time, when the wound closed, she didn't bite again. She let her lips trail along his neck and jaw until her lips found his. His hand moved up her back again to her neck and then to her hair, tightening and twisting so that he took control of the kiss, tilting her head so that his mouth could slant over hers. She slid her hands to his shoulders, her fingers biting in as she felt the heat building in her. She rubbed her hips against his, the friction building through the cotton and satin that separated them. Moaning, she moved faster, pressed harder against him. She gasped in the air he breathed out and bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood just as her climax hit her. She felt his body tense under hers and heard him give a short shout as well, but she was so lost in her own pleasure that it sounded as if he were far away. She collapsed against him, her face resting on his shoulder.

Slowly, his grip loosened in her hair, and he glided his hand up and down her back. She could feel his heart beating fast against her chest and could feel his breath brush against her cheek. For just a moment, she focused on the deep, liquid pleasure that still spread throughout her body, enjoying the feel of his fingers against the nape of her neck and his arms wrapped around her. She held very still, fighting against the return of reality.

But the moment could only last so long. She realized the moment he realized what they had done when she felt a slight tensing of the muscles in his body. His hand paused, but only for a second before it began stroking her skin again. But the moment was broken. Now they had to face what had just happened. She pulled back to look at him. There was blood smeared on his face and neck and some had dripped down onto his chest. She looked away from him down at herself, noticing that there were smears of blood on her top and that one shoulder had been ripped free so that the strap hung haphazardly. She lifted a hand to hold her top in place and carefully stood up. No. She didn't want to face this, not right now in any case. Awkwardly, she mumbled goodnight and hurried to the bedroom, letting the door click shut behind her quietly.

She quickly changed into a heavy flannel nightgown, leaving her clothing where they dropped. Blessedly, her mind remained blank and numb as she washed her face and neck and then moved back to the bed. Sitting, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She watched the door, listening for sounds from the other room, which had been ominously silent as she had tidied herself. Mentally, she urged him to come after her, to break the awkward tension as he had the last time.

She leaned forward so that her forehead rested on her knees and closed her eyes. Why had she just stood up and run away? She could have cracked a joke or said something witty. She could have kissed him again to see how he would respond. Instead, she'd just stared at him and then walked away, only increasing the awkwardness. She remained in that position for several minutes, not moving or breathing, just listening for sounds of movement.

Several minutes later, the sounds came. She heard him shift and stand up, could hear water running in the kitchen as he splashed water on his face, likely removing the blood, and then he approached the door. Her head snapped up so that she could gaze at the door. She waited, could hear his heart beating, could hear him breathing on the other side of the door. He stood there for a few long moments before he knocked softly. She had to remind herself to draw breath to call a soft, "Come in." Hope sparked in her chest, and she tried to keep it from showing on her face. He'd make it all right now. He always did. He'd laugh and tell her that it had meant as much to him as it had to her, that he'd been glad it had happened. That he didn't think it was weird that she had come onto him like that.

He waited a beat before pushing open the door. He seemed hesitant to come in and explained, "I just need a change of clothes." She nodded, and he moved to the bureau to retrieve another pair of sweats and a tee shirt before turning back to the door. He stepped through the portal, and she felt her heart sink until he paused, one hand on the knob. He looked back over his shoulder at her, though he did not meet her eyes, "Listen, kid." He paused to search for words, "I'm sorry. I know you're already dealing with a lot of stuff, and…." He trailed off, waited another moment, repeated "I'm sorry," and closed the door after him.

Slowly, Jubilee laid straight back on the bed, not caring that she was stretched diagonally across it at an odd angle. She folded her hands on her chest and stared sightlessly at the ceiling. He was sorry? How terrible was that? She placed her hand over her silent heart. Really, what had she expected? He had never denied her anything, so why would he deny her feeding in that way? Yes, he'd always cared for her. They had always been a family, and now…. Now he was sorry. She had clearly crossed a line.

She rolled onto her side, pulling her knees to her chest again. Had she messed it all up? The few moments he'd been in the room had been so awkward and tension-filled. She couldn't imagine what tomorrow morning would be like. She squeezed her eyes closed against the idea that he might apologize again, that he might try to take responsibility for this, and that he'd say…that he regretted it. She clenched her jaw against the sob that wanted to burst free. No. She wouldn't cry because he'd hear her, and it'd only make things worse.

He'd never ask her to leave, she knew that. He was too loyal, though she wasn't sure who he was being loyal to. Himself? To the girl she used to be? That had to be it, she decided. Yes, they'd been a family, and he was loyal to the girl who had been like a daughter to him, not to the woman she was now. He was just now coming to realize the difference between the two. The old Jubilee never would have climbed into his lap, kissed him, ground against him until…. She hugged her knees more tightly. She wasn't the same girl that he loved anymore. She couldn't be, she realized. She wasn't even human, or mutant, for that matter. She was something altogether different. She was dead.

She knew what she had to do. She had to go. This time though, it wouldn't selfishly be for her. It would be for him. She would stop taking advantage of his kindness and willingness to put his life on hold for her. She could still try to make a go of it on her own. She could find someplace quiet with lots of wildlife to sustain herself on. It wasn't as if his blood was the only way for her to get clean. It was just the easiest route. Maybe taking the easy way out wasn't the best option anyway. It wasn't like she could expect him to stay with her in this little cabin forever. He'd want to return to real life at some point.

He was sorry. The words echoed in her mind. He would want to return to real life at some point, and that life hadn't included her for years. That had been her decision, not his. She'd cut him out, only returning to interrupt his life when she felt desperate. She'd used him as a crutch for years, had taken and taken and taken from him. She'd never given him anything back. So why wouldn't he be sorry that she'd used him again? Especially when she'd used him in such an intimate way.

Her eyes snapped open, and she made up her mind. She looked at the readout on the bedside clock: 2:37 a.m. If he fell asleep soon, that'd give her a few hours of travel time before she had to go to ground for the daylight hours. Since she was full of his blood, she could probably push through an additional hour of sunlight without causing too much damage. She glanced toward the door and listened. He wasn't asleep yet. His breathing wasn't regular enough, and he was tossing and turning on the couch. He was probably having a hard time sleeping as he tried to figure out what to do about her.

She would save him from that awkwardness. She'd fix this mess and disappear. Maybe once she'd rebuilt her life, she'd seek him out again. She'd apologize for all of the times she'd intruded and find a way to thank him, to make up for all of this. Then, maybe they could start over on fresh ground. She stayed curled in a ball, watching the minutes tick by on the clock, and waiting for him to fall into sleep.

When the latch on the door clicked shut, Logan woke from his fitful sleep. He pushed himself into a sitting position, but she was already gone, using all of the speed at her disposal to disappear. He knew he'd never catch her tonight. A glance at the clock showed it was 3:57. Good. That meant she couldn't run for very long before the sun drove her to find shelter. He moved into the bedroom to dress in warmer clothes, splashing icy water on his face in the tiny bathroom to clear the last cobwebs of sleep from his mind. In the kitchen, he threw some supplies into a bag and moved to lace up his boots. He dressed for the cold temperatures, the thermometer on the porch reading negative 9 degrees. He banked the fire and glanced around to make sure there wasn't anything else he'd need. Then, he stepped outside and set off at a leisurely jog.

He didn't hurry, still torn up inside about her leaving. He had begun to really believe that she wouldn't run this time. Things had been going so well, but what he'd done the previous night…. It was unforgivable. It was his fault, he knew. He was the reason she'd run. He'd driven her off by pushing her into something she wasn't ready for – something she may not ever want from him. The guilt had clawed at him all night. He had made a fool of himself, losing his control so easily and completely just from the feeling of her body rubbing against his. He'd acted like an over-eager teen. Cursing himself, he splashed through a shallow stream, ignoring the freezing cold water that seeped through the material of his sweatpants. He'd let his loneliness cloud his better judgment, he argued with himself. Still, no matter what excuses he gave himself, he still couldn't erase the image of her face when she'd stood up and walked into the bedroom. Her red eyes had been filled with fear, almost as if she thought he might grab her again. When he'd reentered the bedroom, she'd been hugging her knees to her chest as if she'd been hurting. She'd needed comfort, and he wasn't fit to give that to her anymore. He couldn't be trusted around her.

She had come to him in search of a haven, and he'd taken advantage of her vulnerability. His anger with himself caused him to increase his pace, following her trail easily thanks to the tracks she'd left in the fresh snowfall.

Yes, he'd apologized, but he had to do more to regain her trust. He didn't want her to leave; he'd promised her that he'd help her get through this. He couldn't put her recovery on the line because he'd been weak. Suddenly, he realized that was a lie. He wasn't only doing this for her. If he was completely honest with himself, he was the one who wasn't ready to have her leave yet. He had just begun to get to know the woman she was now, and he liked her just as much as he'd liked the girl she used to be.

As he felt the cold air rushing past his skin, he realized he hadn't thought about that girl for almost a week. Yes, he could fondly recall those memories, but they were easily being replaced by new ones of the Jubilee she was now: a beautiful, intelligent, and funny woman. Her mind worked in a more critical way, and she asked questions that made him think about things differently. Because of her, he was reevaluating his life, and he didn't want to be alone on the mountain anymore. He realized that if he couldn't find her today, he wouldn't return to the cabin. He couldn't return to that solitary life again. In the few weeks she'd been there, she'd changed him. What had begun as a journey to heal her had ended up also being a journey for him. He no longer wanted to be alone. Determined, he pushed himself even harder as he followed her small footprints. He would find her, he swore, if only to tell her that.

Author's note: Sorry to get so emo again for those of you who don't enjoy that, but Jubilee's got years of problems behind her, so it isn't going to be easy for her to just stop doubting and disliking herself. I'm trying to balance the romance (happy) with the struggle to overcome her past (sad/emo). Of course, the two are intertwined.

Also, I've hit a point in the storyline where I could go one of two ways, and I'd really like some reader feedback to help me choose a path. I'm working on Chapter 10 now, and I could continue to focus on the romance and healing part of the story, or I could take a short foray into more of an action and adventure storyline. I've posted a pole on my profile, and I would appreciate your input! Please take the time to go and click (it's just one question). Also, any reviews and feedback is very much appreciated. Thank you to everyone who continues to follow and favorite this story.