The Rare Feral

Chapter 5

Victor watched as she cautiously sat across from him. The pair staring at one another through the fire. Victor could now truthfully say that she didn't look like her father in anyway shape or form. And that the picture that he had had in his pocket since Stryker had thrown him her file. The picture that he had looked at every night, certainly didn't do her justice. She was truly exquisite. Obviously more a feral than any other of his kind he had seen. And he could well understand why she was called Tigress. He had already noted her auburn, black and white hair in the picture, and some of the markings on her skin. But in the flickering light of the fire, the simple marks were not so simple at all. The skin he could see, having the same perfect camouflage marks down the sides of her face, as the mighty cat after which she was named. Her ears were slightly pointed with black tips. And her canine teeth were subtly elongated. The whole ensemble making for quite a sight. A sight that Victor found was having the most interesting effect on him.

"Didn't you know what to expect, Creed? Am I that much of a surprise?" (Y/n) asked, as she watched the big feral look her up and down. The rare feral smiling, as she realised that the man across from her was not as she had expected either. That he was actually much more handsome up close than she had already thought. That the wicked glint in his eyes was the most alluring thing that she had ever seen. And that she needed to fight the urge that was building inside her, to jump over the fire, and tear his clothes from his body. His musk making her want to throw all caution to the wind. Making her want to surrender everything she was, to him.

"You offered me hot food, Creed. I hope that you haven't overcooked that blacktail." (Y/n) finally managed to add. Her heart beating faster, as Victor gave her a smile that looked like half a snarl. The twinkle in his eyes dancing with the flicker of the fire.

"Don't ya think ya should wash up first?" Victor asked, as he looked over at the river. In truth he didn't care whether she was clean before she sat down to eat, or not. What he really cared about, what he really wanted, was for her to wash off the stink of doe urine, so that he could smell her. So that he could see whether or not the exquisite scent that he had been able to sense once or twice, was in fact her. Whether or not the pheromones that had clouded his mind. That had made him want to tear off his clothes and go hunting for its source, so that he could claim as his; was the breathtaking creature that was now sat across from him.

"What are you? My mom?" (Y/n) retorted, unable to stop herself from laughing at the comment. Finding the idea that a man like Creed would request such a thing, slightly ridiculous.

"Come on, Kitten. What would your old pop think if he knew you had sat down and excepted food, without washing first............."

"Ha! You do know my pop, right? Malcom Ryder? He wouldn't care if I sat down to eat, and I was covered from head to toe in shit, blood and guts. Me and dad aren't exactly what you would call the Brady Bunch, you know. But, if you insist, grandma. I'll go wash." (Y/n) scoffed, as she got to her feet and peeled off her jacket, before making her way down to the river. Victor watching the seductive sway of her hips, as she moved to the water's edge. The feral sure that even if the smell wasn't her, that he still had to have her.

(Y/n) gasped a little, as the freezing liquid hit her skin. It was a terrible thing to admit, but since Creed had arrived in the forest, she hadn't really had chance to bathe properly. The rare feral more concerned with masking her own odour. More concerned with not being caught, than cleanliness. But for the moment anyway, there was no real need to conceal herself. She had come out into the open of her own free will. She had sat across from the man that had been sent by someone to find her. And she was more than willing to listen to his story for the hot food that he was offering. So, despite what she knew her father would say. Despite her own cautiousness, she would clean herself. She would let down some of her guard.

Victor sat and watched, as (Y/n) splashed the icy water against her face. Watched as she brushed it down her arms, and across her chest. It was true that he couldn't see as well as he would like to. That the light of the fire was not bright enough to illuminate her form properly. So, he knew that his mind was in fact filling in the blanks. But he could imagine perfect tear like droplets, trickle down between her breasts. He could imagine the glisten of the water as it soaked her skin. Imagine her completely naked, emerging from the depths and making her way over to him. The two lying down by the fire. Their bodies intertwined, as he claimed her, in more ways than one. And then, as a sudden breeze blew past her, the zephyr brought her true scent his way; her pheromones filling his senses, clouding his mind, as they heated his body, and hardened his ardour. Victor no longer wanted the images to be just in his mind. He no longer wanted to sit and watch her. The exquisite smell was her. The odour of a mate. A real mate. His mate. And he had no intention of being denied what was truly his. No intention of losing her. No intention of letting Stryker use her for his experiments. But he knew that he had to persuade her that she needed to come back to the world with him. That they were meant to be together. And he only knew one way of doing that. That, for him at least, actions spoke louder than words.

Carefully, he got up from the side of the fire. The big feral slipping off his shirt and making his way down to the river. He knew that he had to be as careful as possible. He knew that if he made one wrong move, then (Y/n) would probably up and run in the other direction, and he might never see her again. But, he also knew that he wanted her. His body craved her. He needed her more than anything or anyone that he had ever needed in his life. And he was ready and willing to do whatever it took to get her.

Suddenly, (Y/n) heard a low deep growl from behind her. The rare feral turning to see a half-naked Creed making his way over to her. She knew that she should run. That she should try and get back to the trees that had hidden her so successfully until this moment. Yet his smell was stronger than ever before. His musk seeming to surround her. To bathe her. To make her body burn from the inside out. And she knew that she could no longer fight the primal need within her. She could no longer deny what she already knew, even though she had not wanted to believe it. She could no longer refute that the smell was that of her mate. That Victor Creed was hers. That she was his. That she wanted him to claim her. And she wanted that now.