AN; Hey y'all, it's been a while and I sincerely apologise. I have no excuse other than the fact that I am a shitty person. But I have a few chapters up and ready to go which I plan on posting this week.
Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, followed and kept me motivated to carry on. So please continue, especially the reviews, I really love reading what you guys have to say and suggestions for the story, and they make the chapters appear faster for you. It's a win-win situation really!

He came back to that bar every day this week, at first he was just passing through, but a scent had made him follow her from the first night he had seen her in that crowded nightclub. She hadn't seen him then and he'd revelled in dancing with her for the shortest of times, the feel of her against him, the taste of her neck against his lips.

She was small, compared to him, but average height for a frail, with long legs and a big 'fuck me' ass. Her hips were wide, and her waist narrow, with breasts that she tried to hide under her high neck tank top.

From then he had traced her scent into that bar, Tom's. And he'd sat and watched her all evening, arguing with his inner beast. The animal part of him told him to dominate her, claim her immediately, to take the frail for what she was good for.

But Victor had learnt from experience that it wasn't the way to win good favour with a frail. Frails were emotional creatures, and Victor's actions rarely brought them anything but tears, not that this had ever mattered to him before.

He thought about their meeting in the alley, the day she had met him. She had impressed him, the way she had fought against him; he hadn't expected it. He'd probably done it wrong, wasn't like he'd had to think about getting positive attention from a frail like that, normally they gave him the attention he demanded without a hint.

But not her.

So he waited again, enjoying the hunt that she provided, going back to the bar, waiting for her to come back for her next shift.

Morgan kept her meeting with Victor Creed quiet, not telling Marie or even James what had happened, knowing it would only make them worry- and that'd make Morgan feel guilty for going out twice a week.

But she thought about it all week, finding herself fascinated with the man. She didn't know what he really wanted with her. Was he a rapist? Was he just trying to mug her? Would he have tried to kill her? He could have done, from looking at him it was clear to see that he was a powerful feral, a Class 5 Morgan would have guessed from the way he fought and acted around her.

She stepped into Tom's taking off her coat and headed to the bar, meeting Tom as he finished pulling a pint for Jon, a regular she had come to grow fond of.

"Hi guys, how you doing?"

Jon smiled, "Been alright." he replied.

Morgan turned to Tom, "All's good, looks like I'll need you on the tables tonight though Morgan."

She looked around the room, the tables full of faces she didn't recognise. Morgan smiled, "Sound's good boss."

That evening went by quickly, Morgan ferrying food between the counter and her customers, that was until everything seemed to slow. She stopped at the table, and found herself facing Creed. He sat unmovable, almost a god among men.

God? Creed was no god! Not from the way he had treated her in their meeting. Morgan cringed inwardly at herself. Sure he was physically attractive, that was undeniable, but he had done nothing to make her like him, and that bugged her.

"Good evening," she said politely, "Can I take your order?"

"Same as b'fore. Two steak, egg and chips."

"A bottle of Jack Daniels and a side of buffalo wings." She finished for him, cutting their conversation short. "I'll bring it over shortly."

Morgan turned to leave, but a rough hand grabbed at her arm, the action becoming all too familiar. "Get off of me." she growled at him.

His grip slowly loosened, but his hand stayed, "I didn't say I was done."

She jerked her hand away from him, "I didn't say you could touch me, so I guess we'll both be disappointed this evening."

She turned away again, getting back to the bar as quickly as possible, ringing the order through to the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of Jack and a glass. She placed it unceremoniously in front of Creed in silence before stalking back to the bar.

She ignored him that entire evening, barely looking at him when she placed down his meal in front of him. It felt strange, not having the attention of her. He wanted it, craved it- yet she resisted. Why the hell was she resisting him? He didn't know what had come over him when he had grabbed her arm. There had been nothing to say, no reason to touch her other than to feel the way her soft skin felt under his own calloused hands.

He growled as he finished his meal. He thought about tracking her scent back to wherever she came from, but he'd tried that, and it always disappeared. Well he'd seen her preferred method of travel that night in the alleyway, she could be going anywhere.

He stayed sat in the booth until she came over for the third time that evening to clear his empty plates, he swallowed thickly. "Frail." he said awkwardly, trying to make his voice somewhat softer than his usual growl.

She waited looking at him impatiently, raising an eyebrow.

"Get me the bill will ya?" he asked.

He left after that, he had a job to do and pining after some frail wasn't gonna help him. This job wasn't particularly hard, but ol' Mags was making some real enemies. So now it was his job to clean up the mess.

There had been a longstanding feud between the Friends of Humanity, and that of the Brotherhood. And Victor knew that this was more than personal. Some kind of sick fucked up joke from Mags, making Victor fight his own son.

Not that he'd been much of a son. The same way he hadn't been much of a Father.

Graydon Creed wasn't formed from love. Victor and Mystique had thought that together they could make the most powerful mutant of all. So what a surprise it was when their kid grew up to be a human. And not just a human, the biggest mutant hating abomination of a son human. Oh how their plans had backfired.

So when he left Tom's bar that night, he didn't come back.