RP Apple Pie

Sam flinched when he asked if something had happened with the Slasher. She looked down at the ground, squeezing her eyes shut when he asked if he had tried to eat her. She was going to have to tell him. There wasn’t any way around it. He was directly asking her about it, and how he had come to that conclusion, she wasn’t sure, but he was asking about it. Her cheeks turned bright red and her eyebrows tilted up and knit together over sad eyes.

“Something happened,” She started in a soft voice, one that echoed how upsetting she found this. “He-he didn’t try to eat me. He wants to, I think. He wants to bad. But that’s not what happened last night.”

She let go of the hand on her cheek and drew both hands into fists, resting them on his chest. She shook, just a little, as she reflected on the night before and felt the strings on her heart constrict it painfully. God, even after the connection she had just had with Ozzy, she still felt it when she thought of Cryptid. Fuck. Fuck.

Sam kept her eyes down as she tried a few times to start talking again. “He– I– What happened was–”

This was so hard. She knew if she ever had to tell him it would be hard, but this made her so uncomfortable as she felt her heart pull that she had to stop and reground herself on his pulse. One beat, two beats, three beats, four. Finally, she decided she just had to say it.

“He talked about wanting to eat me, I felt something toward him. A connection, like– like– God, like the one with you. The same fire, the desire, the same need. And I don’t know how he pierced it together, but he did. We were fighting, I got him pinned to a wall to try to talk to him because I believe everyone can be given second chances, and he– well, he–.”

She stopped again and leaned her head forward onto his chest before blurting out, “He kissed me! He kissed me like he meant it, and I kissed him back, and I feel disgusting and horrified and I’m so sorry.”

This really wasn’t the time or the place to be having this conversation, not amidst all the blood and torn clothes. But this was where they were having it, and even though it was a crime scene, and they were out in the open where anyone could come find them, the moment was just as private as if they had had it down at the riverside in the park.

“I don’t know why I feel this way about him, and I am so so sorry that I let it happen. Fuck, he just presented me the opportunity and I fucking took it, and I just– I just– Fuck!”​
 
Oscar found himself leaning against the damaged tree as she spoke to him. His expression remained neutral. He waited for her to finish, listened to everything she had to say, with the same inscrutable look. She leaned against him, and she’d feel his relaxed heartbeat as he seemed to process the information.

Then he sighed, and he tipped her chin up, turned her face towards him. Again there was a flash of that mysterious desire in his blue eyes and crooked smile.

“I love you, Sam.” And he leaned in, and he kissed her, gently, on the mouth. He didn’t give back any of the fiery passion she’d pressed into him; he seemed to savor the kiss, held it, and then just as easily let go.

The eagerness was gone when he gazed into her eyes again, replaced by an odd twinkle. “Thank you. For being honest with me. But if he kissed you, you didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. You just said there’s more than one kinda soulmate, right? You and Alice weren’t you and me. Maybe this is different, too. It’s easy to confuse feelings, especially if he’s trying to feed into them.”

He kissed her on the forehead, this time.

“I’m glad you told me.”
 

There was something about the way he said he loved her, something in it that made her pause before her heart exploded in her chest. Ozzy loved her. He’d heard the truth and he still loved her. He loved her. She let him kiss her, pressed herself gently into him, just enough that she could feel him, and let him have control. The kiss was soft, clearly enjoyed, and then just as quickly taken away. His hand on her chin made her warm and fluttery, and some of the tethers on her heart reattached themselves to him.

Ozzy was her soulmate too.

He was being so understanding, so gentle, that it made her want to cry. How could he be so perfect? How could he be so good? She didn’t deserve his gentleness and his understanding and his lips on her forehead, that she leaned into.

“Th-thank you. Thank you so much. God, I love you, so much, Ozzy.” Her voice broke again on the words “I love you.” She was unused to the feelings, but they were true. Sam would never lie about something like that. Between their dates and their work together, they had grown close, closer than she felt she had been with anyone but Alice. And there was so much more she wanted to do with him, so much more they could experience together, after this was all over.

She would travel with him. She would go where he went, she would follow him anywhere. She would give him anything he asked for, would give him it all. She would be with him, beside him, and he besides her, every step of the way. It would be an adventure, a wonderful adventure, and she was so excited to start.

But first, Cryptid.

After a quick but tight hug, Sam turned back to the crime scene and sighed. She looked it over, and traced her fingers across the broken tree just next to Ozzy’s shoulder. Once again, there was no usable evidence. There was nothing here that could identify the brown-haired, brown-eyed man that she had seen the previous night– even if that wasn’t his real face.

“I want to find this man. I want to put him behind bars. A metahuman who uses his powers to do something so horrible as to eat people. It makes me so mad. I hate predators, Ozzy. I hate people who think they can prey on other people.” She turned to look at him, her look of frustration melting into something a bit softer. “I want to find this man and bury whatever it is I feel for him, so that we can– so that I can– because I want to… nevermind.”​
 
Oscar looked at her hand as she spoke, a subtle glance. He was listening to her rant, he really was, but there was a warm little smile as he did so. Cryptid didn’t seem to worry or scare him the way she worried, nor did she scare him, for all of her anger. He saw the softness in her eyes as she turned them back to him, and he reached out for her hand, and intertwined her fingers with his, gentle but firm.

“So we can what, Sammy?” He looked her full in the face, blue eyes meeting amber. “You can tell me. It won’t scare me off, I promise.”

There was a softness to his look, a weight, a degree of tiredness. And that smile, that warm little smile, hadn’t moved an inch. And it wouldn’t, no matter what she said next.
 
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Sam looked from his eyes to their hands. Something in her face softened further and for the first time in what felt like forever, but was only a year, Sam threw herself into someone. Her arms wrapped around his waist and her head buried in the front of his shirt. She breathed in deeply, the scent of menthol, cigarettes, and coffee filling her to the brim. She laughed and pulled back, catching both of his hands in hers.

She pulled him into a spin, once, twice, before smiling up at him with bright eyes. “So we can go places. So we can just leave and be together and you’ll do your PI work, and I’ll be a superhero, and we can just– we can just go anywhere. I’ve always wanted to go somewhere else, to travel, and you said you don’t like to stay in one place for too long.”

She stopped moving, her hood having come down, her bouncy curls starting to fall from their bun. She looked up at him with a glimmer of wonder and adoration in her eyes. Her mask was forgotten somewhere on the ground nearby, and even if someone had decided to wander up to them, she probably wouldn’t have noticed. Because all that existed at that moment was Ozzy. All that existed was them and nothing else, and Cryptid was the furthest thing from her mind as she looked up at her soulmate. Ozzy loved her.

“I want to go where you go. I want to be by your side for as long as you’ll let me be. So I need to figure this out and solve it and then we can leave. We’ll be able to go anywhere. I’ll follow you anywhere.” She stopped and blushed as she caught up to what she was actually saying. Her smile became almost sheepish, and she looked down at the ground, letting go of one of his hands to tuck some of her waist-length curls behind her ear. “I mean, if you’d like that too. I-I want to do what you want to do, Ozzy.”​
 
The silence of the forest was broken by the crash of something heavy through the underbrush. Clumsy creature, unaccustomed to the bushes and roots and leaves, blind in the dark. The trail it made in its panicked sprint away from the shadow lurking behind it was only outdone by the trail of blood that pooled in its footsteps.

Cryptid was going to make tonight’s hunt special. He’d cut the first part short – careful to avoid the areas she patrolled, but not so careful as to hide every trace of himself. Enough blood, enough disrupted dirt – and a crumpled pamphlet, dropped near a dumpster, like an accident. Like the clue that would solve her problems forever. And, in a way, it would.

He was leaving. The game was fun, but he was growing more restless by the day. By the proximity to her, knowing at any second he could find her and sink his teeth into her tender flesh, filling his mouth with the blood and sweetness and spice and her. To make her a part of him forever, wherever he went, to carry this hunt with him to his grave.

So, of course, he had set the bait. Bait for himself, it seemed; meat sprinting in terror through the woods, almost caught again and again, but with far more energy than usual. He’d cut the first part of the hunt short, after all; his monster was restless. The hunt sang high and clear in his veins, burning icicles in his blood. And for now, he chased. He chased the piece of ordinary meat that would serve as the right bait for his preferred meal, tonight. It wouldn’t be an easy kill, but he couldn’t make himself wait any longer. Any longer, and he’d lose his patience.

The ordinary-prey had the idea to climb a tree, as if it forgot that he, too, could climb. He slowed his pace to close in, to give it time to realize it had effectively cornered itself. Already he was imagining what he should take as an appetizer – a mouthful of meat from its back or chest, maybe, or a few of its fingers.

As the prey-thing whimpered and cried and begged into the clear, otherwise silent night, he started to circle the tree, and waited for his bird to land in the snare.
 

Boehnke Nature Preserve was on the opposite side of the city from Locklbourne, and had slowly come to be encompassed in Wildcat’s territory, as it were. It was out past the second airport, and took a good amount of time for her to fly to from that night’s crime scene. The dropped pamphlet felt almost… too easy. But she wasn’t about to look a gifted horse in the mouth. Instead, she ran, and she flew, and she ran some more.

She was high in the sky when she found them. They were moving through the forest, and while she could see the man in the tree’s mouth moving, she couldn’t hear anything from this distance. She didn’t need to. She could make out well enough what he was saying without use of her ears.

“Someone, anyone, help me!!”

That was enough for Wildcat. She dropped the heat waves around her and, as she started to fall, tipped herself intentionally headfirst toward the ground. She started spiraling quickly toward the ground, watching as it approached her like a bullet. Then, at the very last moment, she threw her heat out and spun, throwing herself feet first through walls of hot air currents to slow herself down.

She came to a crashing drop a few yards away from the tree. And she felt him before she saw him. She felt it crawl up her skin, felt the ties around her heart snap taunt. She shuddered as she lifted her head and rose to a standing position. She looked over at the tree the man had scaled and saw him. Prowling around the base, looking every bit like he had their last meeting.

God, she wanted to see his real face.

She steeled herself, and in a playful tone, her arms spread wide and palms upturned, she said, “You know, I hear that eating people gives you all kinds of complications. Doesn’t that cause that brain virus that drives you crazy? There’s plenty of good normal food out there. Don’t think I could convince you to maybe have a change in diet, could I?”

She tried to breathe evenly, to control her rising heart rate, but it seemed to beat out of her control. Adrenaline, mixed with seeing him again, was enough to bring a flush to her cheeks, even as she kept her voice even. She swallowed softly, hoping he didn’t notice the motion.

She had to be in control. She had to be able to stay on task this time. She couldn’t let him get her again like that. She couldn’t break down and let him catch her off guard. No, she needed to save this man’s life this time. She needed to be the one in control of the situation. With that in mind, she steeled her heart and her nerves and tensed her muscles, ready to move. She unsheathed her hammer from her thigh holster, tossing it up and catching it mid air.

She could feel it through the earth. His heartbeat had spiked, and was beating hard. Seeing her had excited him. That... didn't seem like a good thing. Especially given what she knew he wanted with her. She swallowed a little harder and lowered her head slightly, tilting her face down so she was looking up from under her lashes. His excitement wasn't like her excitement. Suddenly, she had a very bad feeling about this situation. This wasn't like last time. She wasn't sure what was different, but something was.​
 
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She’d come. Just like he’d known she would, she had come, and she was full of fire. He saw it in her eyes, even through the yellow lenses. He could smell it in her sweat, even through the thick clothing. His heart jumped for joy when her feet touched the ground, bending leaves and twigs to make the softest sound even before she spoke.

“Kuru,” he supplemented, his false voice a purr of satisfaction. “A prion disease, a bit like mad cow. It’s a wasting sickness that’s passed on by eating an infected brain.”

He swallowed. Just looking at her, just a touch of her scent, and all his instincts honed in on her. Perfect, sweet Wildcat, sugar-coated wildfire, had no idea what was in store for her tonight. He watched the hammer as it went up into the air, and as it landed again, he focused on her. He kept circling, though he widened the radius to include her. His speed was the same – deliberate, hiding the eagerness that cut him to the very core. However badly he wanted to just pounce – that would hardly be a hunt, now, would it?

“As much as I’d love to hear you try to change my mind, sweetheart, I’m an obligate carnivore, with very specific dietary needs.”

He had to play up the charade, though. Let her think she was the predator here. Had to get behind her, maybe – close enough to get a bite in before she remembered to use the hammer. Her armor would make it hard to really sink his teeth in, but maybe the shattering of bone between his jaws would do the trick for a first pass.

Of course, he had to get his teeth on her first. The hunger sent a shiver down his spine, and the grin would show through the holes in his mask, reflected in his eyes.

“Now, if you were here to help fulfill that, that’d be another story.”
 

A shiver ran down Wildcat’s spine at the sound of his voice, and she steeled herself against it. God, but she hated that. She never wanted to feel that shiver for him ever again. The only person she ever wanted to shiver for like that ever again was Ozzy. Her wonderful and gentle and perfect Ozzy. She kept his face in her mind, kept those dark curls are bright eyes behind her eyelids.

It didn’t stop the feelings from returning the moment she opened her eyes. It didn’t stop the memory, the flash through her mind of that kiss. What she wouldn’t give to have that again, maybe just once–

No.

She took in a deep breath and started to shift her position, keeping herself facing her cannibal. “You know I’m not here for that. I gave you the chance to turn yourself in before. I’m here to catch you, to bring you to justice. You could make this easy. You could just turn yourself into me.”

Then, in a voice that she couldn’t keep herself from softening as she looked at him, she continued, “We could figure this out, Cryptid. I could help you. It doesn’t have to be like this… Do you really not feel it? This connection between us?”

She adjusted her grip on the new hammer, tightening it. The new handle was void of the grip tape she had heavily applied to the old one. But she’d had to up her game. This hammer was entirely metal, heavier than the standard ones she would get and break. She knew it wouldn’t slip, not with the material of her suit, but still, she adjusted, tightening her hand.

The upgrade in gear was specifically to take him on. Another meta was dangerous, and she needed to make sure she could handle this. She started to channel her heat into her hands, letting it flow into the hammer. The benefits of an all-metal hammer included being able to superheat it. She’d already lashed out with her heat against him once, and he had taken it like it was nothing. He could handle a hot hammer, then. She was sure of it.

She started to twirl the monstrous hammer in her hand, moving it like it was nothing more than a baton. A display of strength as well as a warning.

She didn’t want this. She wanted nothing more than to break down and run into his arms, to find his lips again and lose herself in them. Even if it meant being eaten alive. She wanted it more than she wanted anything at that exact moment. He was so close, her cannibal. And she knew he wanted her, in some fashion. Even if that want was so deeply tied to his hunger, there was something more there. She knew there was.

There had to be.​
 
“What else could this be, sweetheart?” he spoke softly as he closed the distance, very well aware of her hesitation. “Cat and bird, predator and prey – one or the other. It’s just survival.”

The hammer was a threat – but she wasn’t going to aim to kill. It was heavy, and she was dextrous. There were already waves of heat shimmering off of it. Wildcat had claws, and he was more than ready to take them head-on if it came to it. After all, what could hurt him? Certainly not a little songbird who thought she was a falcon. She might as well try to burn away winter with a matchstick.

Ah. He was getting weird and poetic again. He shook his head a little, clearing away the thoughts that tried to crowd in. But there was so much about her, so much that could be said, so much of her bravery and foolishness and delectable heroism. It was a shame it was going to end tonight. At least he’d be able to remember her. Every part of her, body and soul, flesh, blood, and bone. Part of him.

The hunger rumbled through him with just that thought. Still, he held it back, crept slowly, each step more deliberate than the last. He wanted to take his time here. If it wouldn’t be a chase, he wanted the fight to linger, to remain in his memory, every shock of pain, every crunch of bone, his and the kitten’s.

“And is starving someone really justice?” he continued as he walked, in the same soft tone. “You’d be no better than me, Snickerdoodle. Worse, even.”

Circle out. Give her space. Closing off exits, brown eyes bright with anticipation. The treed appetizer forgotten.

“Do you know what it’s like to starve, Wildcat? The burn of your own body starting to consume itself inside-out? For weeks, if not longer? To live in a way that, for all the games, all the blood, you’re saving yourself from the edge of death by taking another’s body to keep your own intact?”

Would she understand, he wondered, or would she call him a monster? That was the real reason for the questions. He wanted to know her – wanted everything he could take from her. Answers, hatred, rage. Understanding, sadness, pain. All of it. Anything she could give before he took whatever was left.
 

Wildcat moved slowly, keeping her face to him, so he wouldn’t be able to get behind her. He got closer, but circled back out and away from her as he continued to prowl. She watched him, her eyes carefully scanning him for any signs of a charge or tension in his body that might indicate movement. All the while, she listened.

And she was suddenly full of images, memories of looking in the mirror a year ago, of seeing her ribs and the skin where it sucked in around them. The feeling of them protruding against her fingertips as she ran her hands over her sides, her once snug clothes barely fitting her anymore. She remembered when she had fallen into that deep despair after Alice’s death. She remembered the pain of her body burning itself up, using every last piece of her it could find to fuel itself.

She knew what it felt like to starve to death. She knew what it felt like to have her body consume itself inside-out. And she lowered her head slightly as she swallowed. Her eyes momentarily off of him as she looked down at her hands, whose bones she could remember seeing when she had dropped so much weight.

“I almost died. I almost killed myself by not eating. I have to eat a lot in order to keep myself alive. At least five times the amount of food a normal person eats every day. If I skip even one meal, I feel the burn of hunger like my body is trying to tear itself apart. I stopped eating when my partner died. I… understand.”

She looked back up at him, and in her bright eyes, hidden behind the equally bright lenses, was empathy. She understood. She straightened out of her stance slightly, staying in a fighting position, but no longer as crouched low. And she looked at him with her head tilted to the side.

“Does it… have to be people? You can’t eat anything else?” She stood up even straighter, rocking on her heels so she could easily shift her weight again if he made a move. “It doesn’t have to be about survival with us. It can be something else. Why don’t you just sit with me and talk? Why don’t we figure this out together? Maybe there’s a solution you haven’t thought of before.”

She looked at him with hope in her eyes, bright and shining. She smiled softly, her black painted lips quirking up under the toothed edge of her mask, just barely visible for what it was. If he gave her the chance to help him, she would. She would give anything to figure this out. She was sure that they could figure it out together. That they could figure something else out that would work and would keep him from starving.

“Please let me help you.”​
 
He laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh, but it wasn’t his usual laugh, either. A bit of bitterness found its way through the buzz, the humming song where his heart kept time. Without footsteps to chase – or giving chase – he could feel it fade back. It wouldn’t go away, though. Not without satisfaction.

At least, he really hoped it wouldn’t.

But something in her voice changed, in her attitude. She’d softened, not hardened, under the pressure of what he was implying. Under the clear memory in her eyes. The understanding. It was different. It was new. It was sweet. It was… more or less what he was after. The part of him that wasn’t ready for this game to end compelled him to look at the pity in her face, at the hope, and see if there wasn’t more of that.

Maybe bone-shattering wasn’t what would finally satisfy him. Maybe betrayal would do the trick just as well. Only one way to find out.

He slowed his step, and stopped closing, his head tilting in the smooth half-way a dog’s might. “Humans. ‘People’ is vague. ‘Human’ is specific – and correct. Nothing else fills me up and keeps me going. And the fresher, the more blood, the more fear – the better it works.”

For the first time since she landed he pulled his eyes away. He could hear the first prey starting to scramble down the other side of the tree, but he didn’t look there, either. He felt… weird. Curious. The hunger wasn’t too bad, not yet. It would be if he went away without eating, but he had time before that. For the last night, he’d really been planning to rush this, hadn’t he?

He sighed deeply, and finally stopped circling.

“I don’t normally talk to food. Talking at food, maybe, but – I do like new things. There’s nothing to figure out really, nothing to help. But I guess I can’t fault Wildcat for thinking she can fix a bad guy instead of beating him up, can I? Go on, then. Give me your best shot.”
 

Now that she had his attention, Wildcat wasn’t sure what to say. She hadn’t exactly thought this through. She just knew there had to be a better way forward. A different avenue. She thought back over what he had said and what he had done over the last twelve weeks. God, had it already been twelve weeks since the killings started?

Every single one of his kills had been targeted. Every single one of his victims was planned out. Gangsters, drug runners, muggers, and killers. Every single one of his targets made sense. Except–

“Why me?” She looked at him with a gentle but confused look. “You only target bad guys. You only go after scum, same as me, just like you said before. So why do you want to eat me?”

She lowered the hammer slowly, allowing the heat to recede into her skin again. There was no point in holding her weapon up if he was going to engage with her. Especially if she wanted him to cooperate. Especially if she wanted this to be productive. She took the hot hammer and she put it back in its cage, strapped to her thigh.

“Why not– isn’t there a more humane way to do this? Wouldn’t it make more sense not to hunt them down like this? To just… God, I hate that I have to entertain this thought. Can’t you just grab them and kill them immediately?”​
 
Under the mask, Cryptid grinned. She was a clever thing, but that was only one of her appeals. He could tell she was being serious, if unnecessarily sentimental about it. She wanted the truth.

Well, the truth she’d get, in his deep voice softened by stolen vocal cords, practically purred out into the space between them.

“Honestly, who wouldn’t?” He put his hands in his pockets, the nearest thing he had for sheathing a weapon, and closed the gap between them in half a step. Slowly, casually, even. “First there’s the scent – cinnamon, sugar, jasmine, apples, god, you’re a walking bakery. And after you let me get a taste? You really think anyone shy of a saint could control himself after that?”

He circled behind her in another rushed step, following if she tried to turn so she’d only hear his voice over her shoulder. It was all he could do to keep his hands in his pockets, to restrain himself from pushing her hood back with the tips of his fingers and burying his nose in her neck. He had to swallow just to talk again, at this proximity.

“And then, of course, there’s the meat. Soft, no fat, and almost self-cooked at this point. Perfectly tenderized. You’d fall right off the bone if I didn’t think your delicate hollow skeleton would collapse under the slightest touch.” Finally, he let himself lean in, speaking just behind her ear through the hood. “In short, you’re right – you’re not my usual taste. But you will never understand how perfect you are.”

He backed off almost instantly after that. He took a hand out of his pocket just to brush aside the soft brown hair he was borrowing from an earlier kill, tucking it back off the top of his mask. If she looked him in his doe-brown eyes again, she’d see the playful sparkle behind them, devoid of pity, empathy, or guilt. Pure bliss, even in the moments of forced self-restraint, was all that looked back at her.

“As for my feeding times – I’ve spent a while trying to figure it out. It’d be easier to do that, sure, and a lot cheaper on the energy cost, which is why the way it’s a natural impulse doesn’t make much sense. If I had to make an educated guess I’d say it’s out with the old, in with the new – burning up whatever’s left of the last meal before taking on the new one. Part of your appeal, too, but that’s not the whole of it. I hunt until I’m satisfied, and then I take everything the prey has left. And like you said, they’re scum. You can’t argue they don’t deserve it.”
 

The moment he moved closer, her hands flexed. She coiled heat in her palms, ready to open hand strike him. But she noticed at the last moment that his hands were in his pockets, and she relaxed a bit, letting the heat escape her palms– only to feel it start to burn deep in her chest as his words caught up to her. She felt it coil in her body, tight like a spring, ready to find its way out of her skin.

She tried to turn to follow him but stopped when he kept moving with her, and instead let him get close enough to speak softly, just next to her ear. She felt the cold of him, his absence of heat, even through the thick clothes she wore. It was there, leaning in close to her. She waited for more and was disappointed when he pulled away.

Fuck.

She was disappointed he had pulled away.

That wasn’t good. But she couldn’t remember why it wasn’t good. She couldn’t remember why it was a bad thing for her to feel this way about him, not when he was so close, not when she could feel his presence warming her through despite his chill. She turned around to look at him after a moment, and she knew what he would see when she looked up at him. A flush, spreading under her mask and down her neck. Lips down turned and eyebrows turned up in an expression of confused want.

God, how could he say such horrible things with that beautiful voice?

She shivered at the playful look in his eyes as she met them from the short space between them. She looked at him, her brain slowly processing the rest of his statement. She supposed that it made sense, in some twisted kind of way. She supposed that it could work that way. After all, she had never known another meta like him before.

She wanted to ask him more about his theory. She wanted to comment on how even scum didn’t deserve his methods. She wanted to say how much better he could be if he was just a bit better, a bit kinder, and had more empathy.

Instead what came out was, “Do you want another taste?”

She stiffened at her own words, realizing exactly what she had just offered. And in such a dreamy and rasping voice. She immediately tried to backtrack. “I don’t mean– no, not like you can bite me– I don’t want you to– Fuck!”​
 
He saw it in her eyes – the want that always set his pulse racing around her. With her eyes wide and her brows arched, she had the blank, innocent look of a rabbit frozen in time. But her scent left no room for doubt. Even with the shiver that crawled across her body, she wanted him. She wanted to have him, even though she knew it meant letting him have her.

Her next statement was a freudian slip. He couldn’t help but tilt his head back and laugh, delighted, full-bodied, pure and warm. The smile under his mask was bright in his eyes when they met hers again.

“Well, if you’re offering, how could I refuse?” He took a step forward again, but paused, giving her the chance to turn back.

Not that it was her choice. It never had been. But if she was setting the pace – well, it was too good an offer to pass up. The rabbit placing her perfect throat between his teeth, not even with trust as an excuse. She knew what those teeth were now, what they wanted with her; and while it still felt so, so fast, there’d never be another opportunity like this again.
 

She was frozen like a deer in headlights. If she had expressive ears like a doe, they would have been flat against her head and low– low like the pit in her stomach. She couldn’t say yes. She knew what it meant to give him permission, knew exactly what he would do with that. But her pulse was thrumming in her ears and blocking out all reason. It was like a spell that she couldn’t break, and when he moved, he moved with that otherworldly grace that seemed to engrave the decision in her bones.

She took a step toward him, a shy and hesitant step. And then Sam– Sam, not Wildcat– made a choice. She pushed her mask up, and pushed her hood back as she did so. The pulse thrumming in her ears picked up even faster. What was she doing? She shouldn’t let him see her face. That was the worst idea yet. But still her shaking hand pushed the recently painted black mask to her head. It revealed her freckled face and her thickly outlined golden eyes.

“Don’t bite me, okay? Please?”

She took another step forward, so he was within touching distance. Her breath came in harsh as she reached a hand out and placed it on his chest. She didn’t have to move in further, as just like before, he moved his mask slightly up and closed the rest of the distance between them. Her hands went to the back of his neck, and just as he ducked his head to hers, she rose on the tips of her toes to meet him.

Whatever the bond between them was, soulmate or not, kicked sharply into place, taut as a garrote wire. One that she knew would kill her in the end. She shivered violently at the feeling of the lips-that-weren’t-his on hers. She tilted her head to let him take as much as he wanted from her, to taste him as much as possible. That same taste as before, blood, and mint, and coffee. Her tongue flicked against his lips and the inside of them, trying to draw him deeper in. God, but it felt right.

She pushed his mask up higher, pulling him down into her by the back of his neck. She wanted him closer, as close as he could get. She wanted him right up against her. She wanted him– She wanted him.

How pathetic. All of her will evaporated at his touch. All of her strength and her sense of self just gone. She was putty in his hands, and he could shape her however he wanted. Her eyes flickered open for just a brief second to catch sight of not-his-face. She made a soft sound and closed them again, pressing her body up and into his.​
 
She melted in his hands – ironic, given she was the warmth. She was the movement, the energy, the passion. She was the life, the satisfaction, the joy. Everything the hunt promised. And she poured all of that into him with the kiss.

And she had the naivety to ask him not to bite her.

He didn’t go in with the intention, of course. It was all so much, so fast, but he’d thought when their lips touch it’d be like before – a rush, to be sure, but one he could promise himself later. But she’d shown him her face, and there was more now, so much more. That desire that had been a bright flame before was now a forest fire burning right through the cold and the hunger that thrummed in his veins, bright and so satisfying that he didn’t even think as he turned his head.

He kissed her, dragging each one down her face toward her jaw, across her jaw behind her ear, inching down toward the throat. Each kiss, each taste, was a declaration. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

His lips were against her throat. He could stop here, he knew he could, and she couldn’t resist. Even through the suit, if he opened his jaws and closed them just below her chin, she’d suffocate. No spray of blood, no glorious red deluge. Just a fire spluttering under the winter wind until its light was gone. It’d be so easy.

Easy. Even though he paused as though considering it, he knew it couldn’t be that easy. That wasn’t the way for this to end. He resumed his trail of kisses down her neck, until his mouth hovered above her collarbone. The taste of skin was long gone; he filled himself with her scent, but knew, just knew, that there was something perfect in her bones. Something delicate and fragile, for the perfect final crunch.

He hovered for a moment. And then, with a softer sigh, he let his mouth open, and instinct took control.

Snap. The outer bone.

Pop. The whole thing, giving way.

Crackle.

The rest of the destruction rippled through her body like kindling being split. Unlike the knee, which had popped somewhat cleanly, the crushed bones went off like pop rocks, perfectly soft. The sensation ran from his teeth to his jaw to his brain in an instant, an exact instant, of absolute bliss.
 

She was clinging to him like he was a lighthouse in a storm when it happened. He was the only thing keeping her from going under, from being dragged down beneath the waves as all of the want and heat rushed through her. His lips, pressing across her jaw, and down her neck. Her neck. She tensed for just a moment when his lips crossed her neck, but they kept going, so she, naively, thought that meant he was going to stop.

She thought it meant she was safe.

And that was when the bite hit. When his teeth cracked her bones. There was no time for her to react beyond instinct. Her hands, which had been wrapped tightly and shakily around his shoulders to hold him close moved quickly to his chest. She took in a sharp breath, and her body rapidly coiled heat in her hands and chest, and all at once, it exploded out of her.

Immediately, his teeth were gone, as was his chill. Instead, an inferno of heat surrounded her, a vortex of hot air that prevented anything or anyone from coming near here. It circled, shimmering in the air, lifting her hair in small pieces, and even she could tell how burning hot the air now was. How burning hot it must have been when it had hit Cryptid.

Cryptid went flying. He hit the nearest tree and from there, the ground. She watched him for just a moment, just a moment, before she crumpled to the ground herself grasping her shoulder. The pain was unlike any she’d ever experienced. Her outer bones were hard, strong, and had plenty of protection. They didn’t break easily. She was sturdy, durable. She always had been.

Her hands both went to her collarbone and held it, a scream finally ripping free from her throat as she collapsed. She curled in around herself and whimpered, her shattered bone held in her hands, as if that could protect her from further harm.​
 
For a single moment, everything went dark. Everything turned off the moment he hit the tree. His back hit squarely, so his spine didn’t break, but for just a moment the shock was too much for his brain to process, even under the blissful influence of the hunt.

Then, the pain hit.

It was everywhere and nowhere, a nebulous white flash of agony. The throbbing in his head was secondary to the wave of burning pain, the blindness and scorched senses of smell and taste ignored as he tried to get his bearings with his ears alone. A sound erupted from his throat, high and wailing, an echoing whistle that was far beyond the capability of a human’s vocal range. Immediately, disregarding the claws still on his hands, he ripped away the melted plastic mask, tearing off any of the rapidly cooling PVC that was trying to graft to his skin.

The poor coat was next. It’d traveled so far with him, but there was no savig the smoldering leather. The claws helped him tear it off, even as the metal itself seared his hands. Those he couldn’t drop. He couldn’t replace the bagh nakh. If they came with him, he might be able to save them. His hands slipped free, and he tore the gloves off as well. The inner lining was too soft for there to be any significant fingerprints, and besides, the heat would warp whatever else was there.

The world was blotchy patches of light and sharper-than-usual sound. On the wind that washed cool air over his seared injuries, he just barely caught the sound of footsteps running – his intended appetizer. He tried to swallow, but couldn’t tell if it had worked. His head turned toward the girl in the center of the clearing just as the scream finally hit. It set the hairs on his back on end, calling up both fear of the only thing he’d ever met that could actually hurt him; and pleasure, because he knew that he’d hit the right nerve. Even if he never fully recovered, if he never tasted her again, the memory of her flavor would remain.

That was enough. For tonight at least, that was enough. He backed up, putting the hand that wasn’t carrying both sets of claws against the tree he’d struck. He was breathing shallowly; he’d need to check that. Everything still burned, but he kept his foggy eyes on her – in her direction, anyway – as long as he could.

Before he turned and ran toward the last place he’d heard the footsteps of the only thing that could fix his ruined body.
 
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