The Savage Heart by Bobbi Todd bobbitodd@hotmail.com Part Eleven The X-Men are the property of Marvel Comics and are used here without their permission. Rated NC-17 for graphic sexual content, both consensual and non-consensual, as well as for violence and offensive language. If you are under the legal age for this sort of thing, then GET OUT! After several hours, Creed had an impressive collection of packages awaiting him in the cab. He didn't even glance at the bill as he signed the charge slip. He couldn't wait to see Anna's face when he showed her everything he had selected for her. Especially the emerald and gold necklace and earring set, and the diamond solitaire ring. Anna leaped up, eager to see Victor again. She had been half afraid that he had abandoned her. But something about the sounds coming from the living room made her be careful. She peeked out through the crack around the kitchen door. Standing in the center of the living room was a man nearly a big as Creed. He looked around the room, apparently considering which room to look in first. He carried an amazing array of weapons slung about his body. In his hands he held an enormous gun, with a funny looking barrel. She must have made some sound, because he turned suddenly toward the kitchen. Eyes wide, she backed away from the door, desperately searching for a place to hide, or for a weapon to defend herself. She silently lifted a large skillet from a hook near the stove and moved to the end of the counter farthest from the door. She was going to duck down behind it and hope that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't see her. The door flew open before she had time. She spun toward him, the skillet hidden from his view by the cabinet. The hole in the end of the barrel of his gun looked enormous as it pointed at her unwaveringly. He stared coldly at her slight figure for a long moment before speaking. "Who're you?" His voice held little inflection. He didn't care who she was, he was just gathering information. "A ... Anna," she squeaked. "Where's Creed?" he demanded, stepping closer. "I ... I don't know." He stood over her now, the end of his gun only inches from her chest. If he tightened his finger on the trigger even slightly, her life would end. Her heart hammered in her chest and her throat was too tight to scream. "You can't be Creed's whore. You ain't flashy enough fer him." He shook his head. "Ya sure picked the wrong hotel room ta break into, kid. Go on an' get outta here." He had no intention of allowing a witness to live, but he preferred to give his victims a taste of hope before killing them. Besides, he needed time to lower the gun and draw his knife. He'd wait until she was about to reach the kitchen door, then he'd grab a handful of her hair and drag her back, his knife sliding across her throat as he covered her mouth with his. He could almost taste her blood already. Unconsciously, he licked his lips. Creed grabbed a couple of parcels from the cab and hurried inside as the doorman and the cabbie unloaded everything else onto a cart. He couldn't wait to get back upstairs. He almost hoped Anna was still sleeping. He'd like to wake her with a gentle kiss before giving her the presents. The elevator only took a few seconds to reach his floor and Creed stepped out, smiling happily. The smile faded when he realized that the door to his room was open the tiniest crack. He silently put the packages on the floor and approached the suite carefully. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of another man, liberally mixed with the smell of gun oil. He stood outside the door for an instant, then slammed it open. The gunman jumped and spun toward the kitchen door at the sound. Anna didn't hesitate. She swung the skillet with all her might. The metal rang after slamming into the gunman's head. He dropped like a rock, without firing a single shot. Creed burst into the kitchen moments later, only to stand, dumbfounded, as Anna stood trembling, the skillet clutched with both hands, over the fallen man. He would have laughed if not for the look on her face. He relieved her of the skillet and gathered her into his arms. "It's all right, baby," he murmured into her hair as she clung to him. She hadn't made a sound. He held her for a moment longer, then stood up, brushing the hair away from her face. "Angel, listen to me. In another minute, the bellhop is gonna be bringin' up some stuff I got fer ya. Problem is, I left the door hangin' open, an' he's gonna wonder what's up. Now, I ain't gonna leave you in here with this mook, but somebody's gotta shut the door, then open it an' let the guy in. Can you do that for me, Anna?" She nodded, straightening her shoulders and taking a deep breath. "You okay?" he asked. "I'll make it." She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she went through the kitchen door and into the living room. As she was closing the door, she heard the elevator ding, announcing its arrival at their floor. A minute later, there was a polite rap on the door. She waited a beat, then opened the door. "Evenin', ma'am," the bellhop said politely. "Mr. Creed asked me to bring his purchases up for him." "Of course," she said coolly, amazed that her voice didn't quaver in the slightest. "Just put them over there." "Very good, ma'am. I found these by the elevator. I believe Mr. Creed may have dropped them." "Thank you," she said. "I'll give them to him." The bellhop unloaded the packages, most of them brightly wrapped like presents. Then he tipped his hat and left. Mr. Creed had given him a sizable tip on his way to the cab, and Mrs. Creed was obviously uncomfortable with his presence. Still carrying the two small boxes, Anna went back to the kitchen. Creed had stuffed a convenient dishtowel into the other man's mouth, and had tied him to a kitchen chair using his own belt and equipment straps. The man's shoes and weapons were on the counter near the sink. His head hung down, and he was obviously still unconscious. Creed held his hand out to Anna. She took it with her free hand and he drew her into his arms. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. "You okay?" he asked, still holding her tightly. "You already asked me that." "Just wanted ta make sure." He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes in pleasure at the feel of her body in his arms, her scent rushing through him like a drug. He loosened his grip reluctantly and looked down at her. "I'm proud of ya, babe. Ya handled yerself like a pro." Suddenly, tears filled her eyes and he drew her close again. "I was scared." "I know, angel, and I'm sorry. But it won't happen again." "He wanted to know where you were," she said as the tears ran down her cheeks. "With all those guns and things, I knew he wanted to kill you. And he was going to kill me, just for the fun of it. He told me he knew I wasn't your ... your whore, because I wasn't flashy enough. But I am, aren't I? I am your whore. Your bitch, your property," she sobbed, heartbroken, repeating the things she heard men call her as they'd justified to themselves what they had done to her. "Even my stepmom said I was nothing but a two-bit street walker, not fit to share a house, my daddy's house, with her." All the grief she'd bottled up for so long, all the hurt and anger she'd suppressed in order to survive, came pouring out. She curled one hand into a fist and struck a solid blow to his chest. He grunted in surprise. "I'm nothing! I'm just something for guys ta fuck! Nobody! Nothing!" Then she was crying to hard to speak. "No, Anna, no. You're nobody's whore, angel. Nobody's property." He held her tightly. "Anna, I love you." The admission surprised him, as much for saying it, as for finding that it was true. Her tears tore at his heart. "No you don't," she whispered. "Its just those damned hormone thingies Henry told us about. I'm just a drug you're addicted to. That's all." "Anna, Anna. Look at me, angel." He cupped her chin and turned her tear-streaked face up toward him. "I don't get addicted, sweetheart. I have a supercharged immune system. I heal instantly. I can't get drunk, and I can't get high." She looked up at him, her eyes wide. "I'm not addicted to you. I love you." "But ... Henry said ..." "Henry was wrong." He wiped her tears away with his thumbs, his hands gently cupping her head. "Maybe I was at first. But I'm not now. I love you." Neither of them noticed the bound man as he woke. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "He took this box from her, and I swear ta god, he got down on one knee, opened the box, took out a ring with the biggest god-damned rock I've ever seen, an' said 'Anna, my love, will you be my wife'." "Yer shittin' me! Creed?" "Damn straight!" The man said. "I sure as hell didn't want him ta know I'd seen him doin' it either. So I closed my eyes and pretended ta still be unconscious." "Hey, ya never did explain how Creed got the jump on ya." The man glared at the speaker for a moment, then went on. "Pretty soon I heard the kitchen door open and close. Next thing I know, that crazy bastard has me by the throat. He picks me up with one hand, still tied ta that fuckin' chair, and he wants ta know if I'd called the little slut a whore!" "What'd ya do?" another man asked. "What could I do? I had a damn towel stuffed in my mouth, an' look at this," he pulled his shirt collar away from his neck, revealing four nasty scars on one side, and a single one on the other. "He had his claws buried in my throat. I couldn't even shake my head. An' I didn't call her a whore." The other men looked at him with sympathy, and one of them gestured for the bartender to bring them another round. He put a beer down in front of a short, dark-haired man, and turned to get their drinks. The short man listened to the man talk, a slight smile beginning to touch his lips. "He got right up in my face, an' let me tell you, he was mad! He said 'I outta gut you right here fer makin' my Anna cry. But I'm not going to. Ya wanna know why? Cause yer gonna get the word out. Creed's retired. I ain't takin' no more jobs, no more contracts, an' no more shit from assholes like you. Anybody so much as looks at her wrong and I'll make 'em wish they'd never been born. Ya got that?' Next thing I know, I'm wakin' up in a dumpster. Let me tell you, I was happy ta be alive. Ever since, I been tellin' ever'body that'd listen that Creed's retired." "Man, this business is gonna miss that psycho. Think anybody's stupid enough ta try an' mess with his broad?" Logan got up from his seat at the bar and stepped over to the table. "I wouldn't suggest it bub. Girl's got friends besides Creed." "An' just who the fuck are you?" Logan put his hand on the man's shoulder and popped his claws. "I'm Wolverine. Any more questions?" "Aw, shit!" "Damn," the storyteller said. "Looks like I gotta add another chapter ta my story." Logan, satisfied that he had gotten the men's attention, retracted his claws, turned back to the bar to pay his bill, and left. Chuck'd been worried about letting Anna leave with Creed, but Logan was pretty sure he could stop now.