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A Northern Tale	By : WolverMean Category: X-men Comics > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 2061 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: X-Men and its characters belong to Marvel and I make no money from this publication. This is for fun only. The rest are my own creations. Trigger warnings for dubious consent, violence, blood and gore. Any and all mistakes are my own.

Chapter List
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Evra

Marty.
He was Evra’s first thought when she woke caged under Victor Creed’s hulking body. His arm was tight under her breasts, one leg hooked over hers.
He was warm in the early morning sunshine, his honey blonde hair shining like a beacon. She was sorely tempted to curl back up to his muscular chest and drift back into sleep—especially when Creed started purring and rubbing his cheek against the top of her head. Evra touched his arm gently.
He stirred, his purr broken by a soft snort and a murmur as he tried to pull her back to his warm, muscular body. Evra tensed and took a deep breath, holding it until his purr began again, and exhaling as she manoeuvred herself out from his embrace, careful not to wake him.
Evra had been neglecting Marty. She needed to heal him while the injuries were still fresh, still malleable. It required less of her energy and made the process easier; that’s why she’d been quick to heal Jasmine’s broken hand rather than waiting until later.
Shit.
It was possible that Creed had figured out her other secret: that she had the power to heal others as well as herself. He’d been asking a lot of questions since she’d fixed Jasmine’s hand—and as she had found out last night, he was nothing if not persistent.
Quietly, she made her way to the river where she washed herself using her torn shirt, keeping her eyes on Creed’s slumbering form. While she worked the shirt over her skin, her mind turned back to last night.
The memory of how she and Creed had rutted shamelessly, grinding their bodies together again and again, biting and snarling and clawing until release was achieved.
Release.
No one had made her feel the things she had experience last night. Not Daniel, not Jasmine, not any other man or woman she’d taken to her bed.
She’d liked it.
Creed’s raw feralness and savagery excited her and remembering the way he’d torn and bit her flesh sent a sudden curl of heat to her centre. Evra couldn’t help the moan that slipped from her lips as she recalled the feel of his hands and tongue on her body.
What had happened with Creed made sense to Evra—brutality, fury, viciousness boarding on cruelty—those were things that she could deal with, as they were all she had received from others in life. Blood, gore, veins alive with fire, hearts almost bursting from exertion—those were things Evra understood.
Daniel’s cock would always come with the inevitable pain that he loved to inflict, but she had never understood why. She was a good wife, a good cook, and kept a good home until she became strong and put a stop to her husband’s brutality, the question of why he had done it in the back of her mind. It served no purpose.
But last night … last night had shown Evra there was something behind the violence that she had Creed had exacted upon each other. It wasn’t like the pain Daniel used to bring to her. It wasn’t like that at all. It was primordial, ancient, and it mattered. There was a purpose to it all. It wasn’t meant to humiliate; it was meant to pleasure the beast within.
Creed had shown her why she needed to embrace the thing that bayed for carnage; he was helping her make sense of it.
She was a feral.
Evra finally had a name to the thing inside of her, the beast that reared its head and begged for blood on her knuckles, raw meat from the hunt, the intense and fierce colliding of two bodies that called to each other by nature.
She felt different—alive, like she was seeing the world for the first time through a new set of eyes.
She shook her head and climbed out of the water as silently as she could before clothing herself—using one of Pointer’s shirts—and grabbed her jacket, heavy with items purloined from the dead man’s rucksack.
Evra glanced at Victor one last time. She didn’t want to, but she knew she had to go back to the bordello and leave the big sleeping kitten behind.
There was Marty to think about.

Victor

Jimmy was livid, his small body practically vibrating with rage, his skin and hair slicked with sweat as he yelled at Victor. He didn’t believe in the killing anymore, he said. It didn’t appeal to his beast.
Bullshit, Victor said. They were fighting a fucking war now; this was different than anything they’d done as a pack. The war was a goddamn miracle as far as he was concerned – this was killing sanctioned by the government. They could be as vicious as they wanted!
The war wasn’t the point, Jimmy countered. He no longer had the bloodlust, the passion he’d once possessed. He was tired, he said. He didn’t want to do it anymore. He was sick of being surrounded by death. He wanted something different.
Victor had laughed – did Jimmy want kittens and puppies and goddamn fucking rainbows? That wasn’t the shit they were built for; they had been built for killing.
Killing was instinct.
Jimmy had shaken his head with a sigh and gone quiet.
He was gone the next morning.
Of course Victor was going to track him down – even Jimmy had to know that – but he hadn’t expected to find ~

~ MATE.

“Jimmy,” Victor murmured as he jerked awake, his amber eyes not yet focused.
He reached for the warm body that should have been beside him, but he didn’t know who would be—Evra or Jimmy?
There was no one.
The growl came unbidden from his chest as he got to his feet, casting his eyes around and scenting the air, hoping to find someone, anyone. The beast was pushing images of Evra into his mind but the dream of Jimmy had not yet faded and the urge for both made his body react forcefully.
With a snarl, Victor dropped to his knees and dug his claws into the dirt, trying to push the urgent, desperate need for mate out of his brain. Instead, one of his hands reached for his hard cock and he stroked it roughly, Evra and Jimmy foremost in his thoughts, touching and kissing and stroking and it felt so right.
He came with a grunt and let go of his softening member before tilting his head up to look at the beginnings of a beautiful blue sky. Victor took a few minutes to breathe in the scent of the coming dawn, the fresh prairie air, the dew on the grass, and the sound of the creek burbling a few feet away.
Find mate.
Evra’s clothes were gone; the only piece of her that remained was the shirt Victor had ripped from her. He rubbed his hands over his face and cursed loudly, frightening a blue jay from a nearby tree. He got to his feet and investigated the shirt; she had obviously used it to wash herself in the creek before she’d left.
It was slightly damp and still possessed her mouth-watering musk along with the scent of Victor’s seed. The reminder of last night’s activities made him purr as he buried his nose in the shirt, relishing her smell, her feralness, her alphaness.
MATE.
Evra had proven to be more than a match for him. She had met him touch for touch, kiss for kiss, thrust for thrust. She’d worn him out, quite like Jimmy used to.
Jimmy.
He clenched the shirt in his fist with an irritated growl.
Goddammit, Evra reminded him so much of Jimmy it made Victor’s groin ache. His beast was still raging at him to take her as his mate, the idea of having someone equal in strength and stamina and power as its lifelong partner was more than appealing. She possessed the fury and the bloodlust that ingrained in himself and Jimmy.
What was his goddamn problem?
Again, when Victor thought of mate, both Evra and Jimmy came to mind, their likenesses morphing into each other, blurring together, and becoming one.
Victor let out a roar of frustration, sending the rest of the treed bluebirds airbourne. What did this mean? Did he want both? Did he need both?
All Victor knew was that he didn’t want to go forward alone—he wanted someone with him, someone by his side. Since he couldn’t have Jimmy, he could take Evra.
Mate.
Victor kept the ruined shirt close to him as he dressed, tucking it into his jacket pocket. He had every intention of keeping Evra close to him, even if it was only a discarded piece of clothing for now.
Evra. Jimmy. Mate.

Evra

It was about 5 a.m. when Evra approached the back of Madame O’s, the entrance that led to the kitchen. She heard the familiar sounds of Jasmine pottering around getting ready for the breakfast crowd.
Evra hesitated at the door, unsure as to whether or not she should go in or run back into the forest and just keep moving until she collapsed.
Jasmine was humming as she plumped the bread dough in their pans, readying them for the oven. The smell of baking loaves already scented the air. Evra watched as the redhead’s deft hands worked the dough for the next batch. She hadn’t been kidding when she told Creed that Jasmine made the best bread she’d ever eaten. It was always light and fluffy and soft and she always knew just the right amount of butter to slather on.
Evra’s mouth began to water thinking about it … or was it because Jasmine’s sweet floral scent was ticking her nose and she longed to place a kiss on her smooth, graceful neck, right over the pulse? Maybe more than a kiss—more like a bite?
She growled and clenched her fist, ducking out of sight of the window. A few deep breaths calmed her slightly. When she heard Jasmine’s footsteps traipse out of the kitchen, she went to the door.
Evra let herself in, grateful that Jasmine was nowhere in sight. Another scent caught her attention, pulled her towards it. It was Victor’s wood smoke and lightning smell but tinged with something else, something distinctly feminine.
Sophie was scrubbing the floor in the dining room, paying special attention to the area still spotted with Stanley Pointer’s blood. It was the young woman; she was sporting the alpha male’s addictive musk. Victor had obviously rutted with Sophie and Evra became wet at the thought of it.
“Madame’s been looking for you,” Sophie said, sitting back on her heels to look up at Evra. “She’s upset you didn’t come home last night.”
Evra shrugged. “Had other jobs t’ do.”
Sophie blew a strand of blonde hair from her face and smiled prettily. “Just wanted to warn you she’s on the warpath,” she said, then hesitated, dropping her eyes. “Have you seen Vic – I mean, Mr. Creed recently?”
Evra’s gut and groin clenched in a visceral reaction to his name and she fought hard to suppress the growl that built in her chest. Sophie noticed Evra’s response and gave her a puzzled look.
“Haven’t seen him recently,” Evra lied as she turned away. “Best be careful, Soph; don’t let Madame catch you givin’ away what she could be sellin’.”
She left to the sounds of the young woman’s giggle.
Evra slept in a storage room right next to the bar. Before the war, it had been crowded with boxes and bottles of booze but it was fairly empty. It also wasn’t very big, but there was room enough for a cot, a tiny table for her lantern, and a small space in which she hung her measly collection of tatty clothes.
She threw her heavy jacket on the cot and pulled on a set of clean clothes before heading down to the nurse’s room. There was no one in the sitting room as she left, which pleased her. There was no way Evra wanted to explain why she was sneaking down the hall at twenty after five in the morning and she really didn’t want to run into Madame Olive. It’d be better for Evra to meet up with a mama bear with her cubs than Madame O. She’d have better odds.
The smell of camphor and soap assaulted her nose as soon as she came through the door.
Evra’s heart contracted as she saw Marty, his face and neck bound with white gauze. He looked so small on the mattress, so weak and helpless.
Marty had been her first friend when she arrived at Madame O’s and had been fiercely protective of her as she learned her way around, especially after he learned her secret. He was the one that taught her how to bind herself correctly, how to cut her hair, and how to pitch her voice so she looked and sounded more like a man.
She would do anything to save Marty’s life, even at the expense of her own. Evra knew she would come back. Marty couldn’t.
Evra crossed the room and sat on the chair next to his bed, reaching out to stroke his sweat soaked hair. The man murmured under her touch, sighing gently. She closed her eyes, absorbing the pain she could feel prickling beneath his skin. Marty groaned as she pulled his hurt into herself.
It was hot and thorny under her flesh, raising goosebumps on her arms and the hair on the back of her neck. No one liked pain, or at least pretended not to like it, but Evra could handle it. She could take pain, the pain that others imposed on her and the pain she took in from others.
When the barbed feeling left her, she dropped her hand and shook it, trying to rid it of the sensation of pins and needles. Evra leaned back with a sigh and rubbed her good hand over her face.
“Need a minute, chère?”
The voice was as smooth as butter and soothed her slightly. She turned to face the man who was closing the door to the nurse’s room.
Doctor Remy Laurent flashed her a swoon worthy smile as he came towards her.
He was over six feet tall, with a lean muscled body. His auburn hair was down to his shoulders—longer than it should be for a doctor—but he had it pulled back in a tail, which highlighted his almost feminine face. He was extremely popular among the staff at Madame O’s but Evra knew he’d not yet taken advantage of the numerous offers sent his way.
At this moment, dark circles bracketed his blue eyes, his face was dabbled with stubble, and his clothes were wrinkled and stained.
“Nah,” she said, getting to her feet. “Strap me up at let’s get this over with.”
Remy’s grin widened as he pulled a leather tie from one of the drawers. “You always say the sweetest things, petite.”
“Stop flirtin’,” Evra said as she dragged her eyes over him. “You look like shit.”
Remy brought a hand up to his chest. “You wound me, Kit,” he said, clutching at his soiled shirt. “Nancy Thurman’s bébé decided to take his sweet time comin’ into dis world, I can tell you dat. Got Madame’s message an’ came right here as soon as dat child was free an’ clear.”
Evra pushed the second cot next to Marty’s and got settled. “Well, I’m glad you’re here,” she said, holding her arm out for the doctor. He took Marty’s good one—the one without the smashed elbow—and secured them together with the leather strap.
“Dat makes two of us,” Remy said. “Now lie back an’ do your la magie. I got a boil to lance on Connor McLean’s derriere when we done.”
“Now who’s talkin’ sweet?”

Victor

Victor was scowling as he stormed into the kitchen, starling Jasmine, who dropped the cast iron pan she was holding. She shrunk back in dread, one hand going to her mouth.
“Where’s the kid,” he growled, soaking in the scent of fright she was giving off.
She opened her mouth but nothing came out except for a terrified squeak. Victor grabbed her wrist, jerking her towards him. The smell of panic intensified, even more so as he leaned down to sniff at her hair.
Evra’s presence on Jasmine was faint, so they hadn’t been together that morning. He continued to nose along her hairline, drinking in her natural smell of sunshine and clover.
“M-Mr. Creed, please,” Jasmine said quietly.
Victor pulled back slightly, watching her. She had her head tilted to the side, her eyes downcast. It seemed to him that the redhead had been in this position before. She was submitting to him. It sent a shock of heat to his groin.
He lowered his head again, placing his lips to her ear. “The kid,” he murmured.
“I d-don’t know,” she stammered, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Evan went to the nurse’s room,” Sophie’s voice came from the door to the dining room.
Victor took one last sniff of Jasmine and then released her. She stumbled back against the wall, gasping from relief. He turned to Sophie and held out a hand to the young woman. Her eyes lit up and she crossed to him, slipping one small hand into his.
“Thank you, sweet girl,” Victor purred before he planted a firm kiss on her mouth. He spun Sophie away and winked charmingly at her. “Stick around. I may come lookin’ for you later.”
Sophie’s giggle faded quickly as Victor strode out of the dining room, into the sitting room of the bordello, and down the hall to the nurse’s room. He hesitated outside of the door.
There was a new scent in the air, one he didn’t recognise. It was male, slightly spicy mixed with sweat, blood, and afterbirth. It was an unusual combination of odours but not an unpleasant one. He focused on the heartbeats in the room; two were strong and sturdy and one was weak but stable.
One of the robust beats definitely belonged to Evra. Victor recognised the steady lub dub belonging to the feral woman he’d rutted with the night before. His beast purred as it wrapped itself around Evra’s thudding beat. It let him know his mate was alive, safe.
Her scent permeated the air and he breathed it in deeply, letting it fill his lungs.
Without warning, her heartbeat slowed and then stopped.
Danger. Mate in danger.
With a snarl, Victor burst through the door, looking for the threat that had taken his mate down. His vision blurred red, a menacing snarl coming from his chest as he looked around the room.
A man was standing over his mate—an unknown man, the man that smelled like afterbirth, and blood, and pain. Delicious.
With a growl, he advanced on the man who threw his hands up in surrender. The fear rolling from him was delectable and Victor licked his lips. Meat would be good now; build up energy from last night.
First, though, this man had to suffer for hurting his mate. Victor launched forward with another snarl, his claws extended. Before he could tackle his prey, his sight exploded into nothing but white, washing away all vision and colours.
He howled in pain and hit the floor hard. Furiously, he tried to rub away the light dancing behind his lids, but that served no purpose.
“Stop rubbin’,” said a voice. “It go away in a few minutes, grande homme.”
Victor rolled on to his hands and knees, saliva dripping from his mouth as he tried the breathe through the throbbing in his eyes. It was more that a sting; it almost felt as if his eyeballs had melted, but he knew they hadn’t. He didn’t feel the tingle that accompanied his healing.
“Who are you?” he hissed wetly.
“Doctor Remy Laurent,” came the same voice.
“Why’d you kill him? Evan?”
“Ain’t dead,” was the reply. “Always comes back. Interestin’ dat.”
Not dead. Heal.
Of course, Victor thought, Evra could heal herself. This thought calmed his beast and it relaxed slightly.
A few more moments passed and Victor’s vision, while still a bit blurry, had cleared enough that he was able to stand. The pain had finally passed. “Jesus,” he grumbled. “Th’ fuck you hit me with?”
“Nothin’ to concern yoursel’ wit, homme.”
Victor moved back to lean against the wall and watched as the blurred form of Dr. Laurent moved gracefully around both Evra and Marty, checking their pulses, noting anything odd, and taking notes. As the haze left his eyes, he was able to study the scene properly.
The doctor was undoing a leather strap that had bound the kid’s arm to Marty’s. Curious. He looked closer at the unconscious man and noticed something that gave him confirmation that Evra could heal others: Marty’s busted leg was now facing the right way. It didn’t even smell to Victor like it had been broken. It was if the break had never happened.
“Shit.” Victor muttered to himself.
Remy turned to face him, the strap still in his hands. Fuck, he was a goddamn fine looking man with his high cheekbones and full lips. Stubble graced his chiselled face, which saved him from being too feminine.
“Now,” Dr. Laurent said, wrapping the strap around his long-fingered hand. “Who de hell are you?”
“Victor Creed,” he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the kid’s …” He stopped himself. He wasn’t Evra’s mate, not yet. Nor did he know if the doctor knew if Evan was really Evra. “… friend.”
Remy’s eyebrows arched up. “Hmmm, a friend. I see.”
Victor could smell that the doctor didn’t believe him, but he didn’t give a fuck. He tilted his head at the chair next to Evra. “Mind if I sit?”
The doctor’s eyebrows shot up higher than Victor thought possible, but gave a brief nod. He crossed to the chair, sat, placing a hand over Evra’s. It was odd for Victor to want to be close to someone other than Jimmy but the kid’s hold on him didn’t seem to be loosening.
The doctor’s eyes were burning a hole in Victor’s back.
“You sure you jus’ friends, homme?” Remy asked, coming around to the other side of the bed. He gently moved Marty’s cot over a few inches and glanced down at Evra. “I don’ judge.”
Victor lifted his lip in a snarl as he raised his eyes to Remy. “None o’ your business,” he sneered.
The doctor shrugged, reaching out to touch Evra’s forehead. Possessiveness flared in Victor and he knocked the man’s hand away. “Don’t,” he hissed.
“Don’ what?” Remy asked.
“Don’t touch the kid.”
Remy made a noise of disbelief, like he couldn’t believe that Victor would do and say such a thing. He reached out and his hand was smacked away again.
“Stop,” the doctor said firmly. “I’m tryin’ to help.”
Victor stood with a snarl, his grip still firm on Evra’s. He did not want this man touching his mate. She was his; she belonged to him and only him. “I said don’t.”
Remy was incredulous but he raised his hand once more, a bright white light forming in his palm. “Or what?”
Victor’s mouth curled up in an evil smile.

Evra

Evra snapped into awareness.
A hand was holding hers - a large, warm hand. She turned her head to see Victor sitting in a chair next to her, her hand engulfed in his.
“Christ, kid,” he murmured, stroking her hair away from her face. “Ya scared th’ shit outta me.”
“You was dead fo’ thirty-two minutes dis time,” Dr. Laurent said from across the room. He was holding an icepack to his face and Evra caught the tang of blood.
She shifted and tried to sit up, but Victor’s hands pushed her back down onto the bed with something close to concern.
“Wha’ happened?” she asked groggily. “Marty—“
“He’s fine,” Victor said impatiently. “Leg’s good as new. Look kid, why didn’t ya tell me about that? That you could do … that.”
Evra smiled weakly at him. “None o’ your damn business.”
Her response caught him by surprise and he smiled back her, giving her hand a squeeze. Dr. Laurent moved towards the bed and Evra felt Victor tense slightly. She was puzzled until he lowered the icepack, revealing a large bruise on the side of his face. Evra whipped her head back to Victor, whose lips were stretched in a snarl.
“He touched you,” he growled. “He put his hands on you an’ –“
Rage exploded in Evra.
She was not property. She was not a possession. There was something animal and sexual between them that she couldn’t deny, but hearing Victor insinuate even a little that he had ownership over her pushed her beyond any sort of attraction she had for him.
“I don’t belong t’ you,” Evra hissed.
Victor’s grip on her hand tightened, his amber eyes flaring with fury. She glared at him, baring her teeth. It was foolish, she knew. Evra was aware that she was in a submissive position, flat on her back, while the large man loomed over her. He could easily clamp his teeth on her neck before she’d have a chance to react.
Instead, Victor dropped his eyes with a sneer but Evra knew this wasn’t over between them. She’d fight him tooth and nail in order to show him that she only belonged to herself; Evra would never be submissive to a man again, not since Daniel, not since she received her powers. He loosened his hold on her hand but didn’t release it.
Evra sat up and motioned for Remy to come closer. He hesitated, his eyes flicking towards Victor. “Don’t look at him,” she snapped. “He’s not in charge of me.”
“Non,” the doctor said, grabbing her wrist. “You were dead. I can’t –“
“Shut up,” she said, pulling her wrist away. Before he could protest again, she slapped her hand over the bruise, causing him to wince. “That’s for bein’ an ass.”
Evra pushed a little and a quick flare of silvery-green light pulsed from her hand to his cheek. The bruise vanished. Remy lifted his hand and touched hers briefly.
“Merci, chère.”
“Wait,” Victor said as he got to his foot, his hand still over Evra’s. “He knows you’re—“
“A femme?” Remy answered, his voice playful. “Oui. I am a doctor. I find t’ings out.”
Victor ignores him. “Who else knows?”
“It don’t matter,” Evra retorted, her eyes flashing. It ain’t your business.”
Victor’s face contorted into a snarl as he glared down at her. “It is my business, kid. You’re my…” He snapped his mouth shut.
The hair on the back of Evra’s neck stood up but before she could react, Remy spoke.
“Look, I don’ wan’ to be interruptin’ a couple’s spat, but I gotta get movin’,” He jerked his thumb towards the door. “Connor Mclean—“
“Marty.” Evra demanded.
“Fine,” Remy said, waving his hand over the unconscious man. “Pulse is bien, no sign of infection.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, Victor a warm, hulking presence beside her. She tried to tug her hand away, but he refused to let it go and she was too weak to fight him.
Evra began shuffling towards the door, fatigue coursing through her. The only thing she could think of was getting into bed and sleeping the sleep of the dead. She chuckled to herself at the irony.
“Wait,” Dr. Laurent said, reaching out for her.
Victor bared his teeth and planted himself between Evra and the doctor. Remy dropped his arm. Evra didn’t turn to look at the doctor, but she did stop, giving him permission to continue.
“Come back tomorrow,” he said. “We can check da rest now da leg is done.”
“We’ll both be back,” Victor replied callously, not bothering to hide his dislike for the auburn-haired man. “Count on it.”
Victor pulled Evra towards him and pushed her past Remy and out the door. She didn’t bother to struggle, but instead leaned on him, weak and depleted. It bothered her that she needed his strength to help her down the hallway.
When she noticed he was urging her towards the hotel, she dug in her heels; her room was not on this side. Evra opened her mouth to speak, but Victor shushed her.
“Yer coming t’ my room,” Victor growled quietly in her ear.
“Mr. Creed—“
“Just so’s I can keep an eye on ya,” he replied.
Evra conceded and as soon as he saw there was no one in sight, he scooped her up into his strong arms and carried her the rest of the way.
She didn’t bother to fight; she’d do it tomorrow.

Victor

The kid was completely out when Victor kicked the door to his room closed. Evra didn’t even stir as he started to undress her, pulling off her trousers, yanking her shirt over her head, until she was clad in only a pair of saggy boxers and the binding that concealed her breasts.
Victor considered both for a moment and then tugged the boxers off. He began to unwind the bandage, letting it coil on the floor.
Skin to skin contact was the best way to help her heal and that meant getting as much flesh available as possible. They’d already done depraved and disgusting things to each other, so what was a little nudity?
Evra could be mad at him tomorrow, he thought as he lifted her into bed. She stirred slightly, sighing as he pulled the covers over her. Victor finished undressing, got into the bed and pulled her close to him, her back flush against his chest.
She moaned and he stroked her stomach lightly, letting a soft purr work its way from his chest. Another sound came from her – this one happier – and she snuggled into him, a smile on her lips.
The beast shifted within, excited that Evra was helpless beside him.
Mate, it insisted, reminding Victor of her sublime taste and the feel of her body underneath his. Take.
What the fuck, Victor thought. He could be extremely patient but he found it wearing thin. He needed to get moving, find Jimmy. He’d wasted enough time here. He’d wasted enough time on her.
Evra made no sound as Victor arranged her on her back, her head lolling on her neck. He climbed over her and buried his nose in her rust-coloured hair, breathing in the smell of raspberries and rich soil, letting it infuse him.
Take now.
Victor parted Evra’s legs with his knee and the scent of her womanhood filled his senses. She wasn’t ready for him, but that had never been an issue. Slowly, he licked the side of her neck, the place where her pulse beat steadily under her skin.
Evra let out a little moan, but didn’t wake. Victor licked it again, then began to suck the flesh. She moaned again and bucked her hips against his leg, the moan changing to a low growl as she did it again. She still did open her eyes.
“Good girl,” Victor whispered in her ear.
Slowly, deliberately, he slid his cock into her. Evra let out a strangled cry as he pushed deeper, knowing she could take him all the way. As Victor began to thrust, she bared her teeth in a soundless snarl and squirmed beneath him.
Her writhing only served to arouse him further and with a growl, he fucked into her harder, his mouth hovering over her pulse.
The steady beat of Evra’s heart sped up, her breath coming faster as he urged her towards orgasm, the rise and fall of her chest brushing against his. The walls of her pussy started to flutter and the little gasps escaping her lips told Victor she was close.
He was amazed her body would react to him so eagerly, despite being unconscious. Most of the others he fucked in this condition never responded; it was done strictly for his own pleasure. The fact Evra moved against him, even in her lifeless state, spoke of the bond they were building between them. It could only get stronger—stronger than the one he shared with Jimmy.
Suddenly, Evra keened and arched up into him, her eyes fluttering wildly.
Victor struck.
His teeth sunk into her neck smoothly, digging hard into her aorta, blood spurting deep into his mouth. It was hot and spicy, sweet and delicious. Victor gulped it down greedily, continuing to thrust into her as she shoved against him weakly.
Evra’s body was beginning to shut down as her blood coursed into Victor, coating his tongue and throat. Soon, her breathing became shallow, her pulse slowing. She tried to speak his name, but only let out a sigh as she died.
Victor pulled his mouth from her throat and threw his head back with a satisfied roar as he emptied himself into her cooling body. A few flicks of his hips made sure he was completely drained before her collapsed next to Evra.
He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her slack mouth, smearing blood on her lips. “You did real good, kid,” he said softly. “Real, real good.”
Victor kept close to her until, seven minutes later, Evra’s chest shuddered as it took in a giant breath. He waited to make sure she was breathing well and her heart was thumping steadily before getting to his feet.
He pulled on his clothes, keeping one eye on Evra. She sighed and rolled back onto her side, still sound asleep despite everything.
Victor crossed the room and stroked a large hand down her back. She murmured softly as he pulled the sheet back over her before leaning down. “You’re mine now, girl” he said. “I’m gonna show you the world.”
Victor left, letting the door close loudly behind him. “I’m comin’ for you, Jimmy,” he whispered. “An’ you’re in for a hell of a surprise.”
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A Northern Tale