Chapter 6

The soft rapping at the door didn't even stir Victor's senses. His mind swirled with all the things he did and didn't want to do.

He'd known for a long time that Layla was what he wanted and he would gladly give her anything, but what she really wanted, she was far too young for him to really give her. He didn't know why it bothered him like it did, he'd raped woman only a little older than Layla before. Maybe it was because she was so willing?

Victor sighed and sat back in his armchair facing the roaring fire. He knew Layla was doting. She'd been like it for sometime, with the way she'd wait by the door when she knew he was coming home from and job and followed him round, practically stuck to his leg. He'd learned not to mind that so much. The way she looked at him too, starry eyed . As she'd grown she'd expressed more than once, her want to join him in his profession. To kill as he did, and her enthusiasm had impressed him.

He growled unconsciously as he wondered what had happened to the impressionable little girl he'd spent years trying to get to genuinely like him.

He chuckled as the thought struck him.

That little girl had grown to like him, just in a way she wasn't meant to yet.

There was another knock at the door, this time, harder and with a little more inpatient force.

Victor inhaled deep, pulling in the scent of the person from under the door. Layla's strawberry scent hit his nostrils and he groaned. He was sure their meeting wasn't going to go down well.

"What ya want, Lay?" He called to the closed door.

The door slowly swung open and Layla stood, sheepishly, in her pyjamas smiling at him. She looked a little cold, but it didn't seem to bother her too much. Layla slipped into the room, closing the door behind her, and wondered over to his chair, keeling down next to his legs and resting her head on his thigh. It was normal behaviour for Layla, but after earlier, it made Victor uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry Vic." She said in her sugar sweet voice. The same voice she used when she wanted something. And to Victor's utter loathing, it worked too. He only hoped she wasn't going to try and use it for other things.

Her fingers found their way to the stitching of his jean leg and began gently tracing the lining. The touch caused Victor to flinch back, moving his leg out of her reach by crossing it over the other. He heard her chuckled and she continued, undeterred, by running her fingers across his other bare ankle.

"Layla." He growled. The words to tell her off were there, on the tip of his tongue, but he simply couldn't use them. "Yer irritatin' me." Was all he managed to get out.

Layla shrugged and shuffled round on her knees to face him, resting her crossed arms on his lap, with her chin balancing on her folded arms. Layla smiled up at Victor, and Victor glared back.

"What are ya doin' Layla?" he asked in a low growl.

Layla tilted her head slightly, like a curious kitten. Her smile never faltering.

"I'm spending time with you." She purred up at him. Victor scowled. She was up to something and he couldn't smell what it was. Or maybe to could. Layla's hormones flared again and a hint of arousal entered her scent. It was practically impossible to cringe any further back in his seat, but Victor tried none the less.

The warm palm of Layla's hand began move up his thigh, squeezing slightly as she went. Victor bit down on a groan as she gently moved upward, his attention being caught by the sudden and somewhat painful tightening in his crotch of his jeans.

"Layla...Stop." he panted as his restraint began to slip. Her tiny hands moved upward, ignoring the plea to stop. Victor fidgeted in his seat, desperate to stop the inevitable.

"Layla, Stop!" he managed to snarl as he grabbed her hands. He leaned forward, snarling in her now scowling face. "I told ya ta stop and I meant it!"

"I dunno why?" she snapped back, pressing her forehead against his.

"'Cos it's wrong, that's why!"

"How is it?" Layla spat through gritted teeth. "What do you care if it's wrong anyways, everything you do is wrong!"

"Yea, but that's 'cos I choose it ta be wrong. I like it that way Layla!" he growled back. He could see the fire burning behind her eyes, Oh, and what magnificent fire it was.

"Well I choose to be wrong too!" she growled, managing to wiggle her hands out of his grasp and grab big hand full's of his hair and pulling his face closer to hers. Victor's response, as delayed as it was, was to grab at Layla's neck.

"Let go of my hair girlie, or so God help me, I'll beat ya stupid!" Creed snarled, his grip on her throat tightening. Layla's hands twisted further into his hair, pulling slightly at the scalp to aggravate him even more.

"You let go!" she rasped back.

"Yer in no position ta be trying ta take over here frail. . OF. MY. HAIR."

"No!" Layla wheezed. "You wouldn't. I know you wouldn't Victor! Not after all these years, so let me go!"

"Ya really think I wouldn't?" he chuckled cruelly. "I fuckin' would darlin! But if it's any consolation, I'd feel bad fer all of about ten minutes!"

Layla wheezed again, her grip on his hair lessening as she struggled to breathe. "Please Vic. Let me ...go"

Victor continued to glare at her in silence as she struggled for air. His blood was raging through his veins with both anger and arousal. If he let her go, he knew he wouldn't be able to control himself if she tried anything again. But if he didn't, well, he'd be in the shit with Burns for killing the girl. It would probably piss him off too.

"Fine." He snorted. "On tha count of three, ya let go of my hair, and I'll let go of ya throat. Ya hear?" Layla gave a weak nod.

"Ok. Good. Ready?" he panted. She nodded again and Victor began to count. "One. Two. Three!"

His grip of her neck dropped and Layla untangled her finger from his hair. Victor moved back, trying to settle himself back in his chair, but was halted when Layla's arms were thrown round his neck and she heaved herself onto his lap, her body pressing tight against his.

"Layla!" He barked. Every attempt he made to push her away, she clamped on tighter, her warmth pressing harder against the aching bulge in his jeans.

Hissing in defeat, Victor slammed his fist against the aim of his seat, the other hand resting, absent-mindedly, on Layla's hip.

"Ya really trying ta test me aint ya girlie?" the feral mutant growled.

"Well your not testing yourself, now are you Victor? So someone has to!" she retorted, her voice muffled by his shoulder.

"And what's that meant ta mean?" His growl vibrated through both their bodies and made Layla shudder, her arousal returning.

"It means your being a dick and not giving in to your instincts! Something you've always told me to do, no matter what."

Snatching at her hair and pulling her to look at him, Victor stared at her straight in the eye. She wasn't a mind reader, but after all the times he'd let her take his healing factor, she had a better insight into his mind that most others. Hell! The more she used his healing factor, the more his became like him. She even had some of his memories and moments where his thoughts took over in her tiny brain and she'd take on his rages.

His glare lessened as he thought. The girl was family. Wasn't sure what family yet, but family none the less. Her mind could comprehend things other her age couldn't, which included his life.

Victor sighed and allowed his fingers to uncurl in her hair, but remain in place supporting her head. It would happen eventually. He'd planned it that way, and if she was feeling it this early, why try and put out the fire?

"So..." he purred, leaning in to her, their noses touching. "What do ya think I should do 'bout it Lay?"

The young girl smiled and leaned into him and without another word shared between the two, she pressed her lips to his, in a gentle, if not amateur , kiss.