There are some things, that no matter how many times they happen, you still hate them just as much every time. Personally, I’m amazed that Logan’s kept in his seat for the entire night. There are a lot of out-of-towners here, and every one of them has taken the opportunity to grab my ass. They’re here for the fights I assume, and I’m anxiously waiting, because Logan wants to fight, and that gets me pretty hot. We figure we’re leaving soon, so what the hell.

There’s this huge part of me that’s scared. I’ve been doing a pretty good job of hiding it, but not as well as I want. Logan and Vic know, and they keep staring at me, sending me calm down and toughen up vibes respectively. Hazel hasn’t noticed yet, but her senses aren’t as acute. I’m standing at the bar (the regular bartender has gone for a break, and I’m pretty good at filling in), filling orders and managing a glance at our table every now and then. Hazel’s drop dead gorgeous. Her dark brown hair is long, and arranged in that messy on purpose sorta way.

Her eyes are a darker brown than Vic’s. More like, coffee beans, or that soil you buy in bags that’s enriched and makes seeds grow into beautiful things. Sometimes that’s what I feel when I’m around Hazel, she’s enriching and beautiful, and makes things around her flourish. She turns them into beautiful things too. This is still only about the fourth time I’ve actually spoken to her, so I’m trying to imprint her scent, and the sounds she makes when she talks and moves into my memory for future reference. I play this game of watch and learn with everyone during the first few weeks.

A slew of people line up for drinks and by the time I look at the table again, she and Vic are gone. I scanned the crowd for a second before I saw them. She’s dancing in the middle of the floor a wide space around her, probably due to Vic standing at the edge of that distance, glaring everyone down. She moves sensually to the music, with a natural grace any woman would envy. I’m not exactly sure why she was named Hazel, everything about her is dark, her eyes her hair, all set off by olive toned skin. She smells like earth and almonds, and she’s the only person whose natural scent has any kind of smell I could actually say I’ve smelt before. It’s very disconcerting. She shoots a smile at me (with her perfect teeth) and I smile back, she knows I’m trying to learn her, because she’s trying to learn me too. I test her scent, and she smells completely at ease on the dance floor. Looks it too.

Lillian sauntered toward me, hips swaying with the music, and stopped at the bar to rattle off a list of drinks. “Three beers, one whiskey and coke, and one shot of tequila.” I collected the drinks, and watched her carry them back to a table. Three men and one woman (all in their early twenties) sat close together around one of the large wooden tables. The girl began sipping her whiskey and coke, swirling a finger along the rim of the shot glass. She edged it closer to the blonde boy. A few seconds later, Lillian was back. A broad grin on her face.

“She’s got those boys eating out of the palm of her hand, and knows it.” She says, tossing a look over her shoulder.

I giggled and smiled broadly at her. “How’s Eli?” I darted a look over to our regular table where he was sitting with Logan. They both scanned the bar once or twice, it was getting late, and Logan was itching for a fight.

“Worried. The last time they were this close… it wasn’t good.” Lillian’s voice had taken on a soft quivery tone. Involuntarily I found myself thinking back to night we hooked up with Lillian and Eli.

*****

“Logan, do we need any more bottled water?” There was like 20 different brands of water in the cooler in front of me, and I was pretty sure we’d need some so I started looking for the cases. I found one and brought it over to the register. The man rang it up, and I carried it to the car.

“I’ll be along in a minute, baby.” Logan said this from the back of the store and a quick glance told me he was loading his arms with somewhat healthy snacks. I hoped he’d remember to grab some fruit.

I felt my grip on the case of waters wavering, and why they don’t make these things with handles? As if fate still has it out for me, I’m three steps from the back of the camper and my grip slips. In slow motion, the case hit the concrete, the water bottles fly and I curse.

“Damnit!”

“I’ll help.” I groaned inwardly and tried not to growl. I’d been too preoccupied to realize that there were others out here. I tentatively tested her scent and the smell of the other one all over her. She’s a little wary, but overall confident. The traces of the other scent all over her carry no emotion, but it’s different enough from hers that I can commit it to memory.

I smiled brightly at her. “Thanks,” gathering the bottled waters gave me the opportunity to cast a quick precise glance around the parking lot. There’s a man, across the way, leaning against a street lamp. He’s nervous, I can’t smell him (not from this distance) but it’s obvious in his body language. He’s darting glances at the woman and the ground. Not once did he look at me. We’ve gathered all the water bottles, and they’re piled neatly behind my seat (Logan never lets me drive).

“I know what you are.” What the fuck? What does she mean she knows? I can’t stop the growl I feel emanate from my chest. She held her hands up in front of her and backed away. She leaned back against the truck, and slid down it a little, her eyes lowered. I’m surprised to realize that this calms me a bit. Makes me feel more in control.

“We need help, my husband and I. We’ve been running for 6 months, and there are dangerous people after us. Please, we’re like you. Please help us.”

As she’s talking I’m looking her over. She’s got blond hair and blue eyes, and she’d probably be pretty if she weren’t so under nourished. You can tell by looking at her they’ve been without steady food and proper shelter for a while. I can’t get a good look at her husband, the man I’m sure is the one standing under the street lamp, but I’m sure he’s just as bad off.

Logan chooses that exact moment to exit the store and stride purposefully toward us. He’s on high alert and the woman seems to sink lower under his stare, her head all but bowed. We share a few barely whispered words before he looks to her and then over to the man by the street lamp. I notice he’s gone from nervous to downright pissed. As I’m studying the other man, it dawns me that I’ve seen the look his face mirrored on Logan’s face before, when he’s not happy with a situation I’ve put myself in.

Logan seems to recognize the look on the man’s face as well, and he beckons him over. Within a flash, he’s standing next to the woman, and arm around her waist. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought he was there the whole time. Logan cocked an eyebrow at him before turning to look quickly at the blond then me. He spoke directly to the other man.

“We’re leaving now, meet us at the rest stop 6 miles to the north.”

*****

I was interrupted in my musings by the bartender returning. We collected our weeks checks when a few more girls came in for work (we had previously arranged to have the second half of the night off), and we made our way to the boys back at the table. I’d grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a shot glass from behind the bar, if Logan’s going to fight we’ll need it. There’s a scrawny blond, with big fake boobs leaning over the table next to Eli, and a similarly shaped brunette practically draped over Logan. I suppressed a growl; that’s something I was doing a lot of lately.

It was not lost on me that my tiny bit of Logan’s personality was quickly developing into its own. Lillian and I stalked over to the table, eyes on our obviously uncomfortable and bored men. With great restraint, borne only from the fact that government mercenaries were on our tail, I managed only to yank her backwards and topple her onto her ass. That was me being nice.

She was drunk enough that she didn’t even realize right away she was sitting on the floor. She huffed and bitched for a few seconds before standing and stomping off. I glared after her for a few seconds, and then turned my attention to Logan.

“Does it take too much effort to ask them to leave?” I asked him. I got a mischievous grin in response. I set the bottle and shot glass on the table.

“It’s a lot more fun to watch you get jealous.” I snuggled into his lap, my fingers trailing over his chest. My lips found his and I was lost for a few moments. I was interrupted when the MC called him to the stage. We couldn’t use Wolverine anymore, especially with the possibility that the Government was after us. They called some generic name and Logan went up. I grabbed the alcohol and was vaguely aware of Lillian and Eli, heads bent close in discussion, as I walked slowly after him.

I found myself staring at him in the corner of the ring, the rambling of the MC mere background noise. He stretched and moved, and I was only a little amazed at the effect this still had on me. Logan doesn’t fight as much as he used to, before we went Underground, but he still manages one or two a year, more than that if we’re moving constantly.

The MC spoke again and a burly man, approximately 5’8” and 200 pounds, stepped into the ring. He was a little drunk, but not enough that it would be to easy. Logan towered over him by inches; his bulk was slimmer, more compact. I remembered the feel of my hands sliding along those powerful thighs, and my mood melted into something else as the fight began.

There’s power and rage, all coiled up in his tight form for just a split second before he throws the first punch. He’s never fought here before, though there have been many offers, so everyone thinks they’re in for a treat. It’s magnificent to see him fight, my insides turn white hot and I watch as his muscles ripple. He’d taken off his shirt to fight, so my view is unhindered. One corner of my brain is scared to death of the pain I know he’ll endure, despite his healing. The majority of my brain is overwhelmed by the sheer animal masculinity, delicious sexiness, and tense power radiating from him, that I’m amazed every other woman in the room is functioning.

The blows are thrown, some land some miss. Logan’s hit in the face a few times. I suspect they’re strategic drops in his defenses, because he’s managed to bleed a bit and that makes him look a bit more roughed up. A double tap to his opponents ribs, and I hear one crack. I didn’t even realize that I’d moved close to the cage, until I felt the chain link beneath my fingers. My insides are getting hotter, and I’m positive Logan can smell my arousal floating in the air.

He snuck a glance at me, and there’s that glint in his eyes, his fist lands a few more times, the motion punctuated with the sickening sound of flesh. He’s got blood smeared over his torso, almost all of it from the other guy’s nose. One more punch and his opponent is unconscious, Logan staggered into his corner and feigned weariness.

I scrambled up the steps ready to start an old game as they carry out the other contestant. I wrench open the door and let my hands flit carefully over his ‘wounds’. I’m careful not to touch, as if I’m afraid of hurting him. He rested his forehead in the curve my neck, and inhaled deeply, his hands gripping my hips. The feel of his warm skin touches mine where my tight red V-neck top separates from my short frayed denim skirt. I gasped sharply and he smiled.

One hand slipped behind my neck to hold my head steady for a deep kiss, the other reached out to snatch the whiskey bottle from my fingers. He inhaled again and shot me a smug grin as he removed the top of bottle. He took a long swig. I have to resist the urge to lick the drop that slides down his throat. I smell the desire, bloodlust, and excitement on him; it only punches my own libido into overdrive.

I pulled the bottle from his hands and grinned ruefully at him. At least, I hope it was ruefully, it might have been just plain horny. Sometimes I can’t tell. I rushed down the stairs before he had time to do more than playfully swat my ass. I run back and grab up the shot glass, pouring one and knocking it back before strolling over to the cage. The new contestant hasn’t shown up yet, so Logan’s watching me. I make an attempt to walk sexily, although Logan’s always telling me I don’t’ have to try.

I take up residence at one of the high pub tables near the cage, scooting up onto one of the stools. As I cross my legs the denim inches up. Quiet giggles escape my throat as the scent of his arousal rises, and I proceed to completely ignore him. The MC announced the next candidate and Logan drags this fight out too. Eventually it ends in roughly the same manner. Logan’s a little worse for wear, or at least he looks it. There’s a repeat performance of my run up the steps. Except this time he bit my neck, breaking the skin and licking the wound. I growled deep, but only Logan can hear it over the roar of the crowd.

He kissed me again, and doesn’t let me go when he takes a long haul from the bottle of whiskey. He hands it back to me, and I tip it back. I left the cage much slower this time, taking my time getting onto my stool. I can tell he’s straining with making this match last. I’m excited and practically vibrating with anticipation as I take a few more shots, mostly for show. I headed over to his corner and deposited the bottle on the outer top step. I walked toward the back entrance as I heard the MC call an end to the fight. The roar of the crowd rang in my ears as I slipped out the door.

I know he’s stalking me, by scent and by sound. I’m using every trick he’s taught me, and he’s isn’t playing fair. Five minutes later until I hear the tell-tale sound. I know he’s got me, and I know that right now, I feel more feral than I ever have when we’ve played this game before.

Before I know it, my back is against a tree and Logan is all around me. Looking into his face I see that his eyes are black and know mine are too. It’s a frenzy of teeth, lips, hands, and body parts. I feel him everywhere at the same time. My teeth sank into the vulnerable flesh at his neck, the blood filled my mouth and I’m lost. My orgasm crashed over me. I barely registered Logan’s matching claim as I fell over the edge.

~*~*~*~

I followed Logan back through the doors, our bite marks have healed, but we’re looking rather disheveled. Glances slid over us, knowing and envious respectively. We headed back to the table where Eli and Lillian were still seated. Vic and Hazel have rejoined the group and are watching us rather smugly. I’m still feeling a bit feral, so I try to guard my motions. It’s harder to curb some of my impulses than it ever has been before.

We sat for a few moments and made small talk, before deciding to hit the road. Logan went to the bar, collecting his winnings. The owner gives it over in cash, expressing his sorrow over loosing two good waitresses, and asking why Logan won’t fight more often. I smiled and a waved, as we donned our coats and headed out.

I climbed into the Suburban, settling into the passenger seat while Logan made a few last minute route suggestions to Eli and Vic. I made the effort not to listen as I leaned into the back seat, checking all our supplies. Satisfied everything was in order; I grabbed a fuzzy green blanket and wrapped it around myself. Snuggling back into the seat as Logan climbed up into his.

“Where we headed?” It’s gotta be pretty far away, and pretty remote. We’ll only have to stay for a few weeks, but we’ll need hunting grounds, and a place with water.

“Banff National Park, They’ve got lots of rivers and forests. That means running water and cover. Maybe we can manage to get to a secluded place on ‘Moraine Lake’.” He looked me over, golden eyes studying me. It made me a little uncomfortable. I growled.

“Baby, you ok? You’ve been pretty…” I waited for a few seconds while he struggled for the right word. When he trailed off and didn’t continue, I pulled my view from the darkened forest rumbling by, and looked at him.

“Feral?” I asked.

He gave me another sidelong glance before bringing his eyes back to the road. “Yeah, I’ve noticed it. The little Mini-Wolverine behind your eyes making another reappearance?” His voice was worried. One of the things Logan can’t get rid of is the guilt he feels that he’s left me with his feral side. I can’t get him to understand that it helps me, makes me feel safer.

“Yes, but no,” he shot me a puzzled look as I continued. “It’s not your feral side. It feels different, more attuned with me, more out of control. Like the other half of a puzzle.” I started waving my hands while I spoke. “It’s been getting steadily stronger for a while now. But recently, with the move, it’s been making leaps and bounds into development. I feel more confident, stronger, sharper, but also more unpredictable, and on the verge of some precipice.” I paused, thinking.

Logan was digesting this information, a look of concerned worry coming over his face. He looked about to say something, but I had finished my train of thought, and beat him to it.

“Logan, I only held on to the barest hint of your memories, a light imprint that I could call on in times of need. Tap strength and instincts from. I think, that each time I tapped into that, it grew stronger. I think it’s really close to developing into something entirely unique to me. It’s mine.”

He sighed, and started hard at the road in front of him. “It’s harder to control?”

It was my turn to sigh. I looked at my hands while I answered. “Yeah.”

“It’ll just get harder. I’ll talk to Vic, between the two of us, we should be able to help you though this.” His eyes intent, he reached out and caressed my face. “It’ll get worse before it gets better, darlin’. But, I promise, it will get better.” He pulled his hand away, and returned his gaze to the road. “Get some sleep baby; it’ll be ten hours before we get there, maybe more if the weather doesn’t hold out. And I’m not sure how far we’ll have to hike.”

~*~*~*~

The strong scent of fear, rage, and disgust jerked me from sleep, or maybe it was the Lillian screaming in my head and Logan screaming in my ear. His door was slamming closed, and he was out of the vehicle before I even regained control of my sleep-addled brain. Lillian was busy projecting a complete picture of the battle into everyone’s mind. I never could quite get the hang of it. Black uniformed Military Men were everywhere; a barricade was formed by a helicopter in the road in front of our truck and I’m sure there were other vehicles around. We were outnumbered one to three. I tried to get a grasp of the situation before I joined the foray.

I saw myself open the passenger side door, felt it give way under my hand. It’s really quite disconcerting. I took a few shaky steps, concentrating too hard on the image in my head I think. One of those hindsight is 20/20 things I guess.

Eli was doing his best to subdue them without killing them, but you can only hit someone so hard before you they get up again. Also, he didn’t have any weapons, and with no healing or super strength, so I’m sure he tired out quickly. He wasn’t burning anyone, either. Eli’s got two mutations, he can move at super speed, and manipulate fire. Since he can move so fast, he can create enough friction (even with just his finger tips) that he can create a spark. Our best educated guess is that because he can manipulate fire, it doesn’t hurt him. Some kind of an immunity or something.

Next I saw Hazel, she was kicking ass and taking names. I made the absent notation in my brain that they weren’t using anything but fists and clubs, a taser every now and then, so they wanted to take us alive. It scared me. Since there was fist fighting near Hazel, I knew that Vic would be close. I was right. A mere two feet away, kicking ass without taking names and keeping people away from Hazel’s blind side. Which you would think is everywhere except directly in front of her if you didn’t know better. Basically she only had to worry about the guy in front of her.

It makes sense; Hazel doesn’t have any real helpful mutation. Enhanced sense, but not as heightened as Logan, Vic, and I; she’s feral too, but (as I was quickly learning) that more of a mindset than anything tangible, and she doesn’t age, not one little bit. The down side is that she’s just immortal, she’s doesn’t have super healing to attribute her everlasting youth to. She can die.

I tear my thoughts away and look frantically for Logan, my eyes searching around me and in the picture in my head. He looks like a darker, quicker version of Vic. I’m trapped in watching him, something I would never have done if I hadn’t been paying attention to the video on a direct line to my brain, and been asleep only seconds before. A part of me reveled in watching him fight, and for a moment I felt just like I had back at the fight bar.

A swift right hook has me stumbling backward, but I’ve been dancing in high heeled boots since I was old enough to get into bars, so I managed not to fall flat on my ass. My face throbs for a second, and the cut at my lip heals instantly. Military Man’s eyes widen and he shouts something to his buddies before he’s thrown backward. Logan steadies me, give me a meaningful look, then turns back to his own fight.

I’m angry at myself, and I take the emotion and lock it away, using it to feed the fire building within me. I knew that Lillian was floating above us, using her Telekinesis to keep her in safety while she uses her mind as a multi circuit. I also knew that she was helping when she could. I’m always taken aback by Lillian powers. I know full well that she’s stronger than the Professor. So much so, that she has him fooled into thinking that she’s only a mid level telepath, and a strong telekinetic.

I swing around, landing a few good punches, before a taser bites into my flesh. The electricity slides through me, causing every muscle in my body to tense. There’s nothing I can do, but fight off the pain and try to stay conscious. The tasers the kind that shoots the little wires out, I could see the guy holding the other end five feet away, and I tried desperately to grab it at them, but my hands wouldn’t obey, and I was drowning in a sea of pain. I was aware of someone hauling me further from the trucks, I nearly lost my mind to panic. I remember thinking it could get much worse. Really I’ve got to stop doing that.

One of them touched me skin to skin, and even through the pain and white hot light behind my eyes, I managed to snatch some of his strength. He swayed, staggered and fell, careening into the man who held the little device. The electricity and pain left me immediately, but my mind was still reeling. I was aware of screaming near me, and a gloved guy (man these people catch on quick) pinned me to ground.

He came really close to my face, and I could see the man who had been holding the taser come closer to me. I wondered what everyone else was doing, before all thought vanished. I saw the metal gleam of a suppression collar at the same time I heard the taunt from the man atop me.

“The fun we’re gonna have with you once you can’t use those freak powers of yours.” He leered, eyes bright with hatred, he stuck out his tongue and ran it over my hair. He bit me hard on the shoulder, through my t-shirt where my leather coat had fallen open. Either these guys were well informed, or they learned awful fucking fast.

His hands slid down my body and he grabbed my forearms, I was still slightly groggy from the taser (who knew it would have such a devastating effect) but the feel of him hard against my body as he leaned out of the way to make room for the collar sent me roaring over the edge from sane to something else. In a split second my mind cleared of the million scenarios and decisions to be made down to one very specific set of rules. Live.

~*~*~*~

Fight. Hit, right there, kick, punch. Jump, dodge, twist. Away, I’ve got to get away. Hit, hit, hit. He won’t leave me alone. Grab, twist, crunch. There are more?

“Errahhhgh!” The sound was sick, twisted, primal. Full of rage and fear. Another one? Running at me, what’s that in his hands? I jumped, kicked, leapt into the trees. Safety, that’s what I want. Why won’t they leave me alone. Something whizzing by me, people scrambling after me. Fine!

Anger raged through me. I leapt down, landing hard atop one. I felt bones crunch beneath my body weight, I had to be sure he wouldn’t’ hurt me anymore. A knife from inside my boot (How had I known that was there?), smooth like butter across his throat. Leaping again, toward another. I landed in front of him, slashing down on his wrist before he manages to hurt me, or put the collar on me. He’s reaching toward me, leaning close, and clutching his wrist with his other hand, the metal collar landing on the ground. Grab twist, crunch. That’s the last one. I’m safe. Red is slowly retreating from my vision and I catch a scent on the air. I turn. Mine. Quick as lightening I’m on him, hands in his hair, lips on his. I’m reaching for his pants and there’s the vague awareness that the threat is gone.

He’s like me, lost in a lust not totally born of blood, and we’re moving. Into the forest, I feel better here, more comfortable, more at peace. My movements turn from raging to sensual, catlike in grace. I looked into his dark eyes. There’s dominance, power, lust seeping from every part of him. Instinctually I tilted my head to one side, submissive. He buried his face there, breathing deeply before growling low.

“Mine.” His word echoes my thoughts.

We joined and fell away into oblivion.