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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
When the night was full of terrors
And your eyes were filled with tears
When you had not touched me yet
Oh, take me back to the night we met
-The Night We Met by Lord Huron

Olive
When Olive Johnson saw Victor Creed’s smile for the second time in many, many years, she was not shocked.
She was also not surprised that he looked exactly the same age as he had that night he’d torn her Heath apart while she had grown wrinkled and grey, her knees aching every time it threatened to rain.
Neither he nor James Howlett gave any indication they’d recognized her, not then and not when they became regulars to her establishment. Both men still smelled the way she remembered; Howlett of sweat and wild heat and Creed of her dead lover’s blood. Olive knew they didn’t really carry those scents, but the odours lingered for her; they were something she’d never forget.
Olive began her long and meticulous records of their visits, their needs, what whore they demanded, what they ate, and how they acted. She sent every single bit of information she gathered on them to The Family.
She would gladly send anything she found out about any feral to the group committed to killing Victor Creed. Every little bit helped.
Then Evan Kitney came into Olive’s life.
She’d known immediately what the kid was the second he swooped in to save her from the assault. Jasmine knew the second she brought the feral back to the bordello with the pretence of giving the kid a job.
It was only to keep an eye on Evan at first, gauge the type of feral he was, but after a few weeks, once Jasmine informed Olive that Evan was actually Evra—a female feral—things started to change.
Olive knew that female ferals were rare, and when Evra showed she was an alpha, she knew the feral was rarer still. She didn’t know how atypical until she wrote to The Family under the guise of fleshing out her research.
The information they sent back horrified and sickened Olive.
If she were to turn Evra in, The Family would torture her, rape her until they broke her, and once she was subdued and docile, use her to entrap feral males.
Evra was a sweet kid, still a girl really, a brawler with a heart of gold. Olive knew that the story she used as Evan was false, but her past seemed to hold dark secrets Evra wasn’t willing to share. The Madame knew the kid had to have been affected by what had happened to her but the feral tried not to let it shape who she was.
The kid deserved better than the fate that awaited her at the hands of The Family and Olive knew it. She did her best to hide Evra from that moment on. She and Jasmine agreed that the organization didn’t have to hear of her; they could keep her safe.
When Howlett showed up without Creed, Olive had immediately contacted The Family and hurriedly sent Evra away under the guise of an errand so the dark haired feral wouldn’t notice the kid—and so that The Family wouldn’t discover her secret. Howlett eluded The Family, vanishing before they showed up. Evra came back safely, and all was well.
Then Victor Creed had come, dressed in a suit and looking for Howlett. Olive hadn’t had time to dispatch Evra on another phoney job. Creed had found the kid. Feral had discovered feral.
Olive had to contact The Family; she couldn’t let Creed go unpunished for the sake of Evan’s continued secret existence. Of course she and Jasmine had argued about it, but they both came to the conclusion that Creed had to pay for his crimes, and if that meant they were put to death for harbouring a feral, so be it.
Now doubt preyed on her mind. Evra was harmless, just a kid who was beginning to live her life. Should Olive turn her over just she could have her revenge? Was she truly angry enough to sacrifice someone she cared deeply about when she’d lost so much?
She burned with shame when she thought of the Evra. She was the dirty little secret that she and Jasmine shared, a huge, complicated lie that both had protected for two years—and now it was in danger of being discovered.
Olive sat at her desk, reading the reply to the letter she’d sent, praying for someway—anyway—that she could save Evra’s life. The kid was special, strong, meant to live. Anger and hatred had taken away so many years of her life. She could let her go, but how?
Her eyes were burning with tears as she held the letter that cause her chest to clench when Victor Creed opened her door.
“How much for the kid?”

Evra
Evra had just finished securing her binding and was buttoning her trousers when Victor came into the room. The door clicked shut behind him and she heard him inhale, scenting the air.
“Why was Jasmine here?” he asked.
Evra didn’t respond; she didn’t owe him an explanation. She turned to tell him just that but the words died in her throat as she caught his scent. It seemed subtly different, the wood smoke and lightning overlaid with the slightest hint of freshly turned soil—her aroma. Surprised, her eyes snapped up to his face and he gave her a seductive smile, his amber gaze absolutely sinful.
The look he gave lit a fire in Evra, heated up her skin to the point of pain, but she pushed it aside. Healing Marty and talking to Jasmine were priority.
“Thanks fer lookin’ after me last night,” Evra muttered, reaching for her shirt. “I owe ya.”
Victor’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t,” he said softly.
The commanding tone in his voice made her lip curl in contempt. No one ordered her to do anything. She lifted her head with a snarl, letting Victor know she wasn’t about to be ordered around. Evra tried to twist her hand from his grip, but that only made him tighten his grasp as he smiled at her, amused by her reaction. She reached for her shirt with her other hand and he grabbed that wrist as well.
“C’mere.” Victor yanked her against him.
Evra growled this time—a warning.
Mate.
With that, Evra could feel every inch of his body as acutely as she could feel her own heartbeat. He was pulsing against her, throbbing with need. Victor leaned down and brushed his lips against her hair.
“Evra,” he murmured close to her ear.
She felt his hot breath on her skin, right over the spot where her pulse fluttered fiercely.
Mate, the tiger/wolf inside her growled.
No, she thought, not mate.
Mate.
Her body became hot with want.
Evra whimpered, unsure and frightened by the strange sensation in her chest, a peculiar thumping that was beating in time with a heart that wasn’t hers. It was if Victor was already within her, in her blood and soul; an essence burning along her veins like fire. She ached for him, needing to touch his body, wanting to taste his flesh, his sweat. It was magnetic.
Mate.
Evra couldn’t stop herself; she tilted her head back and showed him her neck. “Victor,” she said hoarsely as his barbed tongue chafed the tender skin. It abraded her flesh to the point of pain but she craved it, tangling her hands in his loose hair and pulling him closer.
His sharp teeth grazed her pulse, a single prick allowing her blood to ooze slowly. He made a sound between a growl and a groan and he began pushing her down onto the bed, his mouth clashing against hers, his tongue hungry as it found its way past her lips.
Victor started to tug her binding from her body and it felt as if his hands were everywhere at once, stroking her, caressing her, sliding over her flesh, fuelling the inferno of her need.
She barely had time to form a thought before Victor crawled over top of her, caging her in underneath his massive body. His beautiful face was inches from hers and his amber eyes were alive with lust.
“I’m wanna taste you,” Victor murmured against her lips.
He licked once over her mouth before starting to move down her body, his tongue savouring her skin. Evra groaned, arching her body up towards his mouth, not wanting Victor to miss a single inch of her flesh. He chuckled as went lower, his hands undoing and pulling off her trousers.
“Greedy girl,” he whispered, his warm breath raising goose pimples on her arms and legs. “Greedy, greedy girl.”
She mewled softly as Victor’s lips ghosted over her stomach and travelled down to her thighs. Eagerly, she parted her legs for him and was rewarded with another chuckle. He stopped as soon as he was between them.
Evra almost begged for his lips and tongue but she stopped herself, still perplexed as to what was happening. She could almost blame it on the primal need of the feral, the urge that couldn’t be denied, but it was even deeper than that. There was a connection to Victor that she hadn’t felt the last time they were together.
It was a desperate need to be with him, to give herself to him in ways she hadn’t considered. Evra still craved the violence they’d shown each other the night before, still knew that this was important to her nature, to her beast, but the thought of being without Victor physically pained her and she moaned as that agony swept through her.
Her moan turned from pain to pleasure as his tongue finally brushed against her swollen clit. She cried out, one hand pulling at his hair, the other clutching at the bedpost.
“More?” Victor murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her thigh.
Evra was going mad with want and she didn’t appreciate the teasing. “If you’re gonna fuckin’ do it, do it,” she growled. “If you ain’t, get offa me so I can get some breakfast.”
She felt him smile against her skin. “Goddamn, girl,” he purred. “You got a mouth on ya.”
Evra bucked her hips. “Then shut me up.”
She saw Victor’s amber eyes glinting with desire before his tongue began its work and she soon lost the ability to form even the simplest of words.

Victor
“If you’re gonna fuckin’ do it, do it,” Evra growled, her hand pulling his hair tightly. “If you ain’t, get offa me so I can get some breakfast.”
Her words caused a white-hot heat to explode in Victor’s groin and he had to fight not to come right at that moment. Never had backtalk from a woman excited him so much. He wanted more of it.
“Goddamn it, girl. You got a mouth on ya.” Victor was purring in anticipation, awaiting her reply, craving her insolence.
“Then shut me up.” Evra panted, bucking her hips.
Fuck, did he love a challenge, especially since she was right there, goading him on, daring him to do it. Victor rasped his tongue over her clit and was rewarded with a moan so deep, it reverberated in his chest.
Being like this with Evra—Jesus, it was all he’d been able to think about since he’d claimed her. It’d be different than the first time they’d clashed together; it’d be more.
He licked her firmly and she began writhing and wildly bucking her hips against his mouth. She was like a bitch in heat.
Victor clamped his hands on her hips and drove his claws into her flesh, deep enough to scrape her hipbones. He knew she loved the blood and the pain as much as he did. Evra cried out and fisted the bed sheet, grinding her pussy hard against Victor’s mouth as she came, her delectable juices coating his tongue and lips.
Goddamn, she tasted extraordinary. There wasn’t a place on her body that wasn’t luscious to him; her lips, her mouth, her skin, her sweat, her pussy—every part of her was fucking magnificent.
He couldn’t wait to share her with Jimmy.
Jimmy.
At the thought of the runt, anger shot through Victor, mixing with the lust already devouring him. Snarling, her dug his fingers hard into the flesh of Evra’s thighs. She gasped and sat up suddenly, the act of her movement sending a whiff of her wetness straight to his senses. He needed to be inside of her—now.
Victor yanked her towards the end of the bed and she yelped as he grabbed her around the waist, hoisting her up as he stood. Evra wrapped her legs around him as he shoved her up against the wall.
Her fingernails pierced the skin of his shoulder blades and he snarled against her neck, his body on fire as she responded with her own, her teeth sinking deep into his collarbone.
She was open for him, ready, so Victor thrust up as he pulled her down, impaling her on his hard cock.
“Victor,” she cried as he pushed himself deep into her pussy with a grunt.
Victor wanted to be as far in her as he could get, so he kept pressing further and further until he bottomed out. Evra let out a strangled yell and convulsed around his cock, causing him to buck his hips.
“Fuck,” he hissed as he stilled himself.
He wanted her to feel every inch of him inside of her, to show her how crazy she made him. He grasped her hips, holding her down as his balls throbbed with the want to release.
Evra mewled as Victor denied her the urge to move her body. She squirmed, the walls of her pussy fluttering tightly around his shaft and he groaned, placing his forehead against hers.
“Victor,” she gasped, “please.”
And that was it.
Hearing Evra beg was the thing that drove him over the edge.
He pulled back slightly and rammed back in, shouting as he released his seed deep into her. She howled as she scraped her nails down his back, leaving deep, bloody welts that made him snarl and shove into her again, draining the last of his come.
“Jesus Christ,” Victor panted, laying one hand flat against the wall. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”
They stayed liked that for a few moments, gasping and sweating, Victor still inside of Evra. He was almost euphoric; she was more than he could have wanted. How was she here, in all places? How had Jimmy not noticed her?
It didn’t matter now. To the Victor go the spoils.
Goddammit, he was hooked.
“Is that all you got?” Evra asked hoarsely.
“Girl,” Victor purred, carrying her back to the bed, “I’m jus’ gettin’ started.”

Evra
The grumbling of Evra’s stomach woke her from an extremely deep sleep, the best one she’d had since … well, since she’d last lain with Victor.
Groaning, Evra rose from bed, Victor purring softly behind her. He didn’t open his eyes as he rolled over and hugged her pillow close to his body. His warmth and scent were enticing; she fought the urge to climb on top of him and ride him until he begged for mercy.
Evra should have had her fill of Victor by now considering how insatiable they’d been but she could have easily crawled back onto the bed to demand more. She knew she’d get it.
She stood and crossed to the water basin to wash away the smell of sweat and the stickiness between her legs. Evra needed a proper bath but this would have to do for now. She had more important things to worry about—like Jasmine.
“Where you goin’?” Victor’s voice was sleepy and hoarse and it tickled her skin lightly.
She fought the urge to shiver as she rubbed the damp cloth over her shoulders. “Promised Jasmine I’d meet with her,” she replied. “I’m already late.”
Victor sat up, swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed. “You ain’t goin’,” he said.
Evra heard the authority in his voice and she felt her lips curl over her teeth. He held one hand up, the other rubbing lazily at the back of his neck. “It’s not like that, kid,” he said. “She’s already gone. Olive told me she spilt early this morning.”
Ice water shot through her veins. “What? Why?”
Victor shrugged and stood. “Thought you might know. Thought she'd came by to say goodbye or some shit.”
Jasmine had been so vague and desperate that morning as she practically begged Evra to leave with her, babbling about danger and how Evra would die if she stayed in Creed’s company. She’d tried to comfort Jasmine by showing her she was loved, but the girl had fled Evra’s embrace.
Her heart ached at the thought of her lover leaving but perhaps it was for the best. Jasmine would be free to marry and start her own family, something she could have never done with Evra.
“Maybe she ran off with a trapper,” she said, reaching for her shirt. As she held it up, it practically fell apart in her hands, the ribbons of cotton falling to the floor. She looked up at Victor who was trying his best to look innocent. Her pants were in the same shape, tattered and torn into strips of fabric.
“Must’ve been a bit more handsy than I thought,” he purred, his amber eyes hooded. He came towards her, lowering his head to place a kiss behind her ear. Evra started to melt against him, but caught herself and pushed away.
“I got nothin’ to wear,” she snapped. “I ain’t leavin’ this room naked.”
Victor chuckled, reached down next to the small dresser and pulled out a small rucksack that Evra recognised as hers. She opened her mouth to speak, but was silenced as he pulled out a dress.
It was dark green, long-sleeved, and floor length and she spotted an apron poking out from the bag. “I’m not wearin’ that,” she said, taking a step back.
“C’mon,” Victor said, thrusting it towards her. “Sophie gave it t’ me and I want you to wear it.”
Evra knocked his hand aside. “I don’t give a shit what you want,” she snarled. “I ain’t wearin’ it!”
He dropped the dress and grabbed her. “Put th’ fuckin’ dress on, Evra,” he said quietly, his voice threatening. “You’re leavin’ with me after yer done with Marty. I own you now.”
Evra went completely still. “What?”
His words caused her body to disconnect from herself and her voice sounded hollow, distant. Two years ago, she had vowed to never belong to anyone, especially not a man. Daniel had beaten that sense of independence in to her. Evra was her own person.
“I bought you from Madame O,” Victor growled. “You said you wanna see the world an’ I’m gonna show it to you.”
“You bought—?” Evra’s voice trailed off.
The fuse had been lit when Victor said he owned her and it burned bright and hot until he said he’d bought her—peddled by Madame Olive like she was some kind of harlot, existing only for the pleasure of men. She barely heard what Victor said after that because she exploded and pushed at him with all of her might.
The shocked look on his face was almost comical as he went flying backwards, the bed cracking in two as his weight hit it at full force.
“You do not own me!” Evra screamed, clenching her fists by her sides, spittle flying from her mouth as she advanced on Victor, fists aiming for his face. “I am not a thing! I am a human being!”
For the first time in a long time, Evra felt truly beaten. He grabbed at her as soon she was close enough and jerked her down on top of him. She kept trying to hit him as she fell, but it was useless. Once she was down, she ceased pummelling him, her head drooping to his chest.
Defeat was heavy on her body, weighing her down, despair hot and sour as it filled her. Her throat tightened and she astounded herself as she began to cry.
“She had no right,” Evra sobbed, her tears falling on to Victor’s torso. “To sell me like a common whore, I—“
Her voice broke and she wept harder, her body slack against him, her hands curling around his shoulders. “I am not a whore,” she whimpered. “I am not.”
Victor’s hand was on her back, heavy and comforting as he stroked along her spine. “It ain’t like that, Evra,” he said softly. “I’m gonna take you everywhere. I want you by my side.”
The way Victor said her name made Evra look up. His face was blurry because of her tears but she could tell he was being genuine. “But you said you bought—“
His hand moved to her hair, his thick fingers carding gently through the strands. “It was th’ only way she’d let you go,” he explained. “We’re a mated pair an’ I ain’t goin’ anywhere without you, Evra.”
She could feel the little beat in her chest hammering like mad in time with Victor’s heart. She wondered if he could sense how hard her own heart was beating as she lay pressed to his body.
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
Victor pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t say anythin’, kid. Just put on the fuckin’ dress, huh?”
Evra couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up from her chest. “Give me the damn thing,” she said as she sat up carefully.
Evra would do anything for Victor—anything at all.

Dr. Remy Laurent
The closing of the door woke Remy from sleep.
“If you’re ‘ere to ravish me,” Remy said drowsily, eyes still closed, “you gon’ have t’ do all de work. Je suis fatigue after three days of runnin’ all over town.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Evra growled teasingly as he sat up and yawned, stretching his before planting his feet on the floor. “Too bad you smell like bear that fell into an outhouse.”
The doctor huffed as he crossed to the sink in order to splash cool water on his face. “You don’ fart parfum yourself, Kit,” he shot back.
She laughed and he turned away, unbuttoning his shirt. “How’s Marty?”
The fabric whispered against Remy’s skin as he pulled the stained and stinking shirt from his body. “Bien. He sleep all night an’ his leg is better’n new.”
He pulled on a clean top and turned around, his eyes widening in surprise as he noticed what Evra was wearing. It was a dress—a dress—covered by a long apron. Remy admired how it clung to her buxom frame, emphasizing her soft roundness and giving little hint to the strength that lay beneath it. It fit a little tight around her chest, but that didn’t bother him any. Her rust coloured hair had been brushed to a shine, the ends curling gently around her ears and the back of her neck.
“You look nice, Kit,” Remy said.
She blushed and ducked her head and his heart stuttered. “It won’t take me too long t’ fix th’ rest,” Evra said, choosing to ignore his compliment. “I gotta eat first. Come with me. Keep me company?”
“I t’ought da big man was keepin’ you comp’ny dese days.” It was supposed to be a joke, but Remy heard the air of accusation in his voice and cursed himself. He hadn’t meant to let his jealousy show and now it was out in the open, hanging between them.
“You don’t know nothin’ about that,” Evra said, the blush fading from her cheeks.
There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. He decided to go forward; he’d already come this far.
“I don’ like de way he look at you, Kit,” Remy said softly. “It’s like you piece o’ meat an’ he jus’ a big kitty cat wantin’ t’ gobble you right up,” He crossed the room and cupped Evra’s cheek tenderly. “A man like dat ain’t nothin’ but trouble an’ I don’ wanna see you hurt.”
Goddammit, Remy hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but he was frustrated and in love. The urge to tell her was just too great, as if he could sense something coming on the horizon. Something bad.
She brushed his hand away, none too gently. “It ain’t like you haven’t got your fair share o’ cunts n’ cock vyin’ for th’ chance t’ play doctor with you, Remy,” Evra snapped.
Remy turned away quickly to hide the look of hurt on his face. She’d never spoken to him like that before, her voice full of venom and her words full of spite.
Evra was right, of course; there was no shortage of men and women who found Remy attractive and who worked hard to get him between the sheets, but he had never succumbed to the offers. Doing his job as a doctor was important to him and he hadn’t wanted to become distracted by starting a relationship. At least, that’s what Remy kept telling himself. Now here he was at 30, in love with a 17-year-old girl who liked to pretend she was a man.
None of that stopped her statement from causing an all too familiar ache within him.
A heavy silence settled between them as Evra went to sit next to Marty and began to unwrap the gauze from his face. Remy couldn’t bear the thought of Evra being mad with him.
He hadn’t meant to hurt her but he’d been foolish, riding in on his white horse, desperate to save his damsel in distress. Remy cursed his idiocy and dragged a hand down his face. Evra didn’t need him; she’d never need him and he had to accept that.
He took a deep breath and turned back towards her. “I din’ mean to upset you, Kit,” he said softly. “I jus’—“
“Don’t,” Evra whispered. “Please don’t, Remy.” The feeling in her voice made him stop in his tracks and he stilled his body as he looked down at her.
“I know what you want t’ say, but don’t,” she said, quietly. “Victor an’ I are mates, Remy. We’re connected; I can feel him all th’ time in my chest. It’s a little heartbeat that belongs to him an’ it pulses right next to mine, right here,” Evra placed her fingers on a spot right above her left breast.
Remy’s heart was like a lead weight in his chest and he fought to keep down the bile that rushed up into his throat. “What?” He sounded small, hurt and he hated himself for it.
Evra stood and took both of Remy’s hands in her own. Her flesh was cool to the touch, a contrast to his heated skin. He felt like he was boiling alive.
“Victor bought me from Olive,” she continued. “I’m leavin’ with him today, right after I’m done healin’ Marty.”
Remy’s mouth worked, trying to think of something to say but he couldn’t form the words. Fortunately, Evra took the silence to press a kiss to his mouth.
It was chaste—a simple meeting of lips—but for Remy, it was everything. It was if his blood had begun to steam inside of him and he had to stop himself from grabbing her and pulling her over to the empty cot in order to have his way with her.
Evra pulled back, her face still close to his. “You’re too good for someone like me, Doctor Remy Laurent,” she whispered, her breath ghosting his cheek.
“You aren’t,” he practically pleaded, trying to pull her closer.
She stepped back, out of his reach. “It’s for th’ best,” she said as if he hadn’t spoken. “Victor promised t’ show me the world. There’s nothin’ keepin’ me here.”
I want to be the reason you stay. Stay for me! Stay with me! Remy wanted to scream but he dropped his eyes, absorbing what Evra had told him. The thought of her with Victor Creed angered him more than it should have; truly, Remy had no claim on her but he didn’t think any man ever would. The fact it was Victor was maddening. What had that beast done that Remy had not?
The door opened suddenly and Victor strode into the room, a smug smile on his face. He paused before he shut it, lifting his face to the air, almost as if he could smell the emotions that had been trapped in here with them.
The man’s gaze turned to Evra before he crossed the space towards her. As soon as he was close enough, he pulled her to him for an extremely passionate and possessive kiss. She gasped and placed her hands against his chest, trying to push him away, but she couldn’t help but melt against him.
The whole time, Victor kept his eyes on Remy, letting the doctor know that Evra was not and would never be his. The large man had a strange hold on her that Remy didn’t understand.
“Ready t’ go soon, kid?” Victor asked, stroking a thumb down her cheek.
“Yeah,” Evra replied, blushing prettily. “About an’ hour or so, okay?”
”I got shit t’ take care of, but I’ll be back soon,” Victor said. With another smug smile at Remy, he left.
Rage filled Remy and he fought not to chase after the large man and burn him to a crisp with his lights. “Why you goin’ wit him, Kit?”
“It’s … it’s complicated, Remy. He—I … we …” Evra’s voice trailed off as she looked towards the door where Victor had left. She sighed as she sat. “We only got an hour, doc. I’ll explain while I’m healin’. We don’t have much time left together, so let’s make the most of it, huh?”
Remy was jarred by her words; they didn’t have much time left. “Kit, I—“
“Stop. We said everythin’ there is t’ say,” Evra said. “Please don’t overcomplicate it, Remy. Let’s just … jus’ be okay, okay?”
“D’accord,” he responded softly, his heart heavy in his chest.
Remy had lost; he had to accept that. Instead of wallowing in defeat, he would take the hour to try to commit to memory as many things about Evra as he could—how she smiled, her laugh, the way her eyes would crinkle, how she smelled…
Soon, those recollections would be all Remy would have.

Jasmine
Jasmine sat in the clearing, the sun shining brightly on her red hair, setting it on fire. Birds chirped happily in the trees, their cheerful songs the antipathy of what she was feeling.
Evra wasn’t coming.
She had waited until well past nine and now she was wiping away the tears that continued to fall. She’d seen how Victor looked at Evra. It was hard not to notice the look of pure desire on a man who inflicted nothing but cruelty and hatred.
In the hours that she had waited, Jasmine had come up with numerous plans, one that involved her demanding Evra choose between her and Creed, one that involved saving Evra from Creed and becoming her lover’s hero, one involving going back to the bordello, gathering her belongings, and leaving quietly.
She kept wavering between her ideas, indecisive and heartbroken. The fact she couldn’t choose frustrated her and led to more tears. Sniffling, Jasmine lay back on the blanket, wondering if she could just stay here and starve to death; anything would be better than going back and seeing Evra’s face.
It was going to be another hot, cloudless day. The weather hadn’t brought much rain this far north and much of the grass had become dry and crunchy, the leaves on the trees crackling to the touch.
Sorrow is quite draining and Jasmine found herself being lulled to sleep when she was startled awake by an exceptionally loud magpie. It had found a high branch in a tall tree in which to deliver its shrill sermon.
“Go away,” Jasmine shouted at the boisterous bird. “I’ll not have you squawking at me, you silly creature!”
The magpie seemed uninterested in her turmoil and instead worked itself into a disturbing screeching that put Jasmine even further on edge. She grabbed a rock and tossed it at the stupid thing; it cried in protest as it took to the sunny sky, whirling away on the wind like a pinwheel.
“Foolish bird,” Jasmine muttered to herself as she settled back down, still drowsy from the heat.
“Is it really so foolish if it was tryin’ to warn ya a predator was comin’?”
Jasmine froze.
She knew from the voice that it was Victor Creed behind her. Her whole body tensed and she had to remind herself not to run. There was absolutely no way she could outrun a feral, especially one his size. Jasmine cringed as Creed crouched behind her, one of his large hands landing heavily on her shoulder.
“You don’t like me much, do ya, Jasmine?” he asked, his tone conversational. “Don’t like me sniffin’ round your woman, takin’ liberties with her, huh?”
She didn’t answer, instead concentrating on breathing slowly and steadily, keeping her heartbeat from going wild. She didn’t want him to know how terrified she was. Jasmine had never been afraid of a feral since she’d received her training—she knew what to do and she was good at it—but Creed frightened her. Maybe it was because he had killed her family or maybe it was because of the hold he had over Evra, who was one of the strongest people Jasmine had known.
Creed leaned in close, his breath hot against the sweat forming on the back of her neck. “I did, you know,” he growled softly. “I took a lot liberties with yer woman.”
Jasmine couldn’t help the gasp that wrenched from her body, the force of it leaving her trembling. Creed moved to sit beside her, his hand still a weight on her shoulder.
“Look at me,” he said, his voice dangerous.
“N-no,” she stammered, keeping her eyes on the dried grass in front of her.
Creed grabbed her other shoulder and jerked her to him. He skimmed his lips down her neck, stopping over her wildly jumping pulse. He licked the tender flesh of her throat; she started, her body shaking against him.
“M-Mr. Creed, please,” Jasmine said quietly. He pulled back abruptly and looked her straight in the eyes. She whimpered, averting her gaze immediately.
“You know, don’t you? You know what I am, what the kid is.”
Jasmine gave one brief nod. His hand shot to her neck, closing around it tightly.
“You’re one o’ The Family,” Creed growled. “A feral hunter.”
“N-no!” Jasmine gasped. “I-I’m just bait. Please!”
“Liar,” he hissed as he tightened his grip. “You know th’ submission pose an’ I bet that’s not all you know, is it, girl?”
Her hands clamped around his meaty forearm as her face turned red, her nails biting into his skin. He released his hold slightly, allowing her to get air into her lungs.
“Talk.” Creed commanded.
“Y-you killed m-my family, In Ireland!” Jasmine cried, blinking rapidly as air rushed into her. “You killed th-them and I—I came to Canada to escape and The Family found me, trained me, said I could help them rid the world of ferals. I c-came here to k-kill Evan—Evra!”
He nosed along her hairline, drinking in her scent, and she felt him smile against her forehead. “You love her, don’t you?”
Jasmine’s face fell. “Yes,” she responded, her voice barely a whisper.
She was suddenly on her back, Creed looming above her, caging her in underneath his massive body. “I remember you, Irish Rose. Sunshine an’ clover; that’s you. I never forget scent an’ I never forget a kill, y’know. I keep ‘em all up here,” He tapped his head with a long claw before he brought it down to scrape against her cheek.
Jasmine whimpered in pain as her flesh split, blood dripping from the wound.
“Olive didn’t get t’ make a sound before I snapped her neck but yer ma screamed real nice,” Creed’s grin widened. “I wonder if yer gonna scream th’ same way or if it’ll be different.”
Jasmine’s body betrayed her, trembling hard, her teeth clacking together as terror took over. He sat up and reached behind him, pulling a knife from the small of his back. She was paralysed, unable to move as his amber eyes finally caught hers, pinning her down.
“You know how t’ skin a moose, Jasmine?” he asked as he turned the knife over. It glinted in his hand. “Do ya?”
He brought his other hand up and slid the sharp blade across the palm. A huge gash followed his motion, blood leaking freely from the cut.
“See,” Creed continued softly. “Most people don’t know how t’ slaughter a moose properly. Takes skill an’ know-how an’ strength. Gotta be strong t’ slice open th’ skin of the beast, get th’ knife smooth like butter through all that fur, y’know? Its hide is tough.”
Jasmine swallowed loudly and nodded slightly, her eyes widening as the cut on his palm sealed up. He licked the blood away, a firm grip on the knife.
“But people, see, people are so easy t’ cut open. It don’t take much strength at all, really. A man can slice another man open with as little as th’ flick of somethin’ sharp,” Creed placed the flat of the blade against Jasmine’s cheek. She whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut. He stroked the knife along her skin as he spoke.
“What I’m gettin’ at, girl,” he whispered roughly, his breath hot on her skin, “is that I’ve made my claim. Evra’s mine, not yours. She’s my mate an’ I know you know what that means.”
Jasmine sobbed once, her eyes flying open. Evra was lost to her now. Her body went limp, her heart shattered; she was helpless, hopeless. A tiny cry clawed its way out of her throat when Creed quickly pulled the blade along her cheek, leaving behind a thin, bloody line.
Tears streamed from her closed eyes, stinging as they sluiced through the wound. He grabbed her face, licking a long line from the corner of her lip to her temple. Jasmine’s eyes flew open and Creed gave her a wide, bloodstained smile. He pressed the knife into her small hand and stood, towering over her.
“You wanna kill me, girl? Wanna hunt me down?” he asked with a wicked smile. “You think you got the muscle an’ the know-how to slaughter me, get that knife through my tough skin? Get up, then. Get up an’ fight for your woman.”
Rage took over, burning along every inch of her body, infusing her with strength. With a roar, Jasmine launched herself at Creed, the knife aiming for his heart. Her scream pierced the air, sending wildlife scattering for miles around as it echoed through the forest.
Blood for blood.
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A Northern Tale