DISCLAIMER: If you know them and love them (or hate them), they aren't mine. If you don't know 'em, they are.
DISTRIBUTION: If you would like permission to archive this story, please email: mydestinyfic@yahoo.com.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first attempt at an XFic. If you don't like it, don't read it. I'd like to thank the ladies of the WXF for their support and encouragement. Special thanks to Albertina, Chase and Joanne for beta'ing this for me. Big sloppy baby kisses to Cyn and baby Nicky for their special brand of ego-boostin'. And, finally, if you like it, please let me know. I've already got a few sequels spinning in my brain. Eve and Logan will not be stopped.
SPECIAL NOTE: Look Ma, all that thesis research came in handy for something!
Eve felt nervous as she made her way toward the lab. Her encounter with Logan weighed heavily on her mind. She was unsure of how to proceed. The kiss had both complicated matters and confused her. She could not even pretend to understand what she was feeling. Logan hadn't just caused the heat in her blood; there was something else, something inside of her that she found indefinable.
She knew that her eyes were responsible. He had responded to them; she had responded to him. It was as simple as that. It meant nothing more. But he was angry with her, frustrated by her behavior. She couldn't seem to make him understand that none of it was real, that it was all manufactured by a trick of her genes.
He didn't really want to kiss her. She found herself wishing that he'd never taken off her glasses. She would have known for sure. Eve stood outside the door to Jean's lab for a moment. It didn't really matter anymore. Everything was about to change. She rubbed her hand across her stomach in a silent goodbye to the children she would never have. She felt a swell of peace and knew that they understood and forgave her for what she was about to do.
She pushed open the door and stepped into the room. Jean was busy attaching electrodes and a strange-looking headband to Logan, who was sitting in what looked to be a dentist's chair. As they made eye contact, he scowled. No, he definitely wasn't happy with her.
She pushed the thoughts from her mind. They were unimportant right now. There were bigger things to worry about.
"Where's Scott?" she asked.
Jean looked up from her task momentarily; she reached up and massaged a knot of tension in her right shoulder.
"He's with the Professor, down the hall. They're preparing the room as you requested. There were a few pieces of equipment he had to move. He'll be here."
Eve nodded and began pacing the floor at the front of the lab. She refused to look at Logan, though she could feel his eyes on her. They were burning holes through her clothing. Her breath quickened. She could hear the blood rushing through his veins. It was keening for her. The vein in her temple throbbed. She had to hold on. They weren't ready.
"Jean," Logan said softly, looking pointedly in Eve's direction, "you better get him in here."
Jean looked behind her where Eve was pacing erratically. Her fangs had fully distended; they looked painful. Her breathing was fast and shallow, like she'd just run a race. Jean could feel her lungs burning just looking at her. Silently, she called out to Scott and the Professor. Moments later she heard the sound of the Professor's chair coming down the hall.
Scott came into the room quickly, assessing the situation with a single glance.
He nodded silently to Jean. They were ready.
Xavier was quiet. He stared at Eve, a pained expression on his face. She was frantic; the sound of her blood had all but blocked her ability to acknowledge their presence.
"Everything is ready," he said evenly, hoping that the sound of his voice would calm her. "We've followed your instructions to the letter. The students are gone. All of them, even Rogue. Though I must admit, that was a bit of a struggle." He smiled wryly. "The jet is ready. It can leave at a moment's notice."
"The jet?" Logan asked, his eyes shifting rapidly between the Professor and Eve. His brow knotted. What the hell?
Xavier nodded.
"Yes, she asked that the jet be prepared to take off. It's just a precautionary gesture. I assure you, it won't be necessary."
"But what the hell is it for?" Logan asked.
"You'll all use it if I lose control," Eve said, finally looking at him. "If I try to take too much of your blood, or if my behavior becomes erratic and out of control, you'll use the jet to get out of here. You have somewhere to go for awhile?" The last she asked of Xavier.
He nodded.
"We'll be fine. There are places we can go."
The Professor sighed. It was time for him to get moving. He turned his chair and moved to leave the room. He couldn't bring himself to say goodbye to any of his children or to Eve. Doing so would force him to acknowledge the peril in the situation. If something happened to one of them, he would be incapable of forgiving himself. Clouding his mind with those doubts and fears would be foolish. They all needed every ounce of fortitude that they could muster.
"I'll be waiting down the hall."
As the door closed behind him, he heard Eve whisper.
"Don't do something stupid, Charles. Don't do it."
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Jean and Scott worked hurriedly. Logan frowned as they attached more electrodes to his arms, back and chest. He felt like a damned Christmas tree, just plug him in and light him up. Of course, Eve had already done an excellent job of that. Jean had forced him to take his shirt off so she could monitor him. She'd also wanted his pants but he'd drawn the line. Modesty wasn't the problem, the heavy, throbbing in his groin was.
"There," Jean said, "you're ready."
Ready. Right. Sure, he was ready. No problem. Waiter, check please.
Jean squeezed his hand and bent over, pressing her lips into his forehead. When she pulled back, there were tears in her eyes.
"You be ok," she commanded.
He nodded his head sharply and grunted. He refused to acknowledge the emotions running rampant in his body. Fear. Anger. Dread. And, masking it all, a terrible sadness. He didn't want to leave these people. He didn't want his life to be over. This was his home now.
Scott pulled her away.
"Jean," Logan said quietly as she moved away.
She nodded. She knew what he was trying to say.
He looked at Eve. Her back was to them. She'd changed into a set of the women's exercise gear, black cotton drawstring shorts and a t-shirt. She'd taken her glasses off and was rubbing her face, desperately attempting to get herself to calm down.
He watched as Jean approached Eve and clipped a small electronic device to the back of the waistband of Eve's shorts. She then applied two electrodes to her temples. So, he wasn't the only one being monitored.
Eve slipped her glasses back over he eyes before turning around.
"Thank you," she said in response to the other woman's gentleness.
"It's ok, Eve," Jean said confidently, "we'll all be fine. When this is over, we'll all laugh about being so scared."
Eve smiled inwardly. Now she could see the wellspring of optimism that tied her to Scott.
"Scott," she said, "you know what you have to do?"
He nodded.
"If things get out of hand, I'm supposed to stun you with an optic-blast."
"You're good with that thing, right?" she asked.
He laughed bitterly.
"Yeah, I've had some time to develop the skill. Why?"
"If something happens, go for the back of my head. Hit it as hard as you can. No," she said, as he began to interrupt, "don't argue. If I lose control, you hit me with everything that you can. If you do enough damage, you'll buy yourselves enough time to make it to wherever you're going. You stay there as long as you can and you don't come back. Make sure the children stay away. You keep them safe." Her voice shook with her desperation. "Eventually, I'll have to go underground. I wont feel safe staying here to heal. As soon as I'm down, you'll be ok. It will be awhile before I manage to force myself to resurface. It will probably be at least ten years or so."
Scott nodded.
"What do you know?" he said, turning to look at Logan with a smirk on his face. "Looks like I may have to save your life again, old man."
Logan growled.
Shit, the boy scout was getting a God complex.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Jean stood at the controls of several electronic devices. Logan's life flashed before her in little green readouts. He looked calm enough. And, she thought, looking at the display showing Eve's life signs, she was even calmer. Once she'd realized that every possible precaution had been taken, Eve's demeanor had changed. She'd stopped pacing and become inhumanly still. She sat perched on an examination table, staring at Logan. It was disconcerting. Whenever she or Scott approached a little too closely, a warning growl would sound in the back of Eve's throat. She was beginning to see what Logan saw in Eve, the predator lurking just beneath the surface.
Jean spun the last of the knobs and adjusted the settings on the movie camera that was setup a short distance from Logan's chair. She half expected an off color remark out of him, but guessed he was too distracted. He hadn't taken his eyes off Eve since she stopped moving and started staring at him. Jean felt like she was intruding on something private, an intimacy she couldn't understand.
She looked up from the camera. There was nothing more that she could do. She'd checked and re-checked the settings on all the equipment. Scott had prepared Logan's recovery area and she'd looked that over too. Eve would be moved down the hall; she would have to assume that Scott and the Professor had followed Eve's instructions for the preparation of the room to the letter. The jet was ready. Scott was in position. Logan was calm, his vital signs the best she could hope for. She couldn't delay anymore.
"Eve," Jean said, returning to the safety of her equipment, "whenever you're ready."
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
As soon as both Jean and Scott were safely out of the range of her vision, Eve pulled the lenses from her eyes. Logan grunted at the expression on her face. He'd wanted to see her eyes; he'd wanted to read them. Now he was going to get his chance.
Her eyelids dropped low over her pale gray irises as her gaze shifted to settle on the mound of flesh between his legs. Christ. This wasn't playing fair. Her lips parted slowly; he couldn't tear his eyes away as her tongue appeared, stroking at the spot on her lower lip where he'd applied pressure with his teeth.
She slid sinuously from the exam table. Her hips rolled slowly from side to side as she drifted toward him. He noticed the gentle sway of her breasts under her shirt. Unless he missed his guess, she hadn't put anything on underneath.
As she stood at the foot of the chair, he got his first good look at her eyes. The pupils were constricted, tiny pinpoints in a sea of color. They shook something at the core of him. As she leaned forward, placing her hands on the chair padding between his ankles, her eyes began to change. Slowly, rhythmically, her pupils began to pulse. Open. Closed. Open. Closed. He was dimly aware that they were moving in time with the throbbing of the flesh between his legs.
He clenched his jaw, fingers closing tightly over the arms of his chair. He struggled to remain seated, when all he really wanted to do was give Jean and the Boy Scout the best show of their lives.
She slid onto the chair, her fingers using his legs for leverage. As she slowly climbed forward, he felt her hands gripping at the muscles in his thighs. He suppressed a moan, briefly flicking his eyes closed. They opened again quickly as he felt both of her palms come to rest on the top of his hips. She pulled the fabric of his jeans taut over his erection. He hissed, baring his teeth.
A ghost of a smile flashed across her face before she relaxed her hold on the cloth.
Bitch.
As she moved forward, he grabbed her hips, pulling her down until the heat between her legs was pressed firmly against the steel of his erection. Two could play this way. A primitive, indefinable sound escaped her throat. Her hands slipped upward, carefully evading the electrodes Jean had placed on his chest earlier. She gripped at the hair that covered the swells and valleys of his torso. He growled slightly as her grasping fingers found his flesh. He felt the sting of her fingernails as they penetrated his skin. His hips bucked slightly and they both moaned at the new pressure.
Eve leaned forward, pressing her lips against the tiny drops of blood that had formed at the wounds before they had healed. He felt her tongue lash at his skin, desperately in search of more of the vital fluid. As she moved up his chest toward his throat, he felt the soft press of her breasts against his abdomen. They stilled when they reached his chest.
Her mouth had left his flesh and hovered a few inches from his. She looked into his eyes, and beyond the passion, he saw a longing. He was not sure what it meant, but he knew he had to erase it. His hands slid up from their position on her hips and came to rest on the back of her shoulder blades. He pressed her forward until her mouth met his.
He found no hesitation this time, no barriers to breech. Her mouth opened willingly to admit his advancing tongue. As the kiss deepened, he felt her hair fall over his face. It tickled his cheeks and caught in his sideburns.
When he tried to trace the edge of her teeth with his tongue, he felt the sharp sting of penetration. The taste of his blood filled her mouth. A purring sound hummed in her throat as she thrust her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. She latched on to the injured body part in her mouth, licking at his tongue in a desperate attempt to prevent the wound from healing. She pulled away in frustration when she realized nothing more would come from the injury.
Their chests heaved against each other. She looked at him, a question in her eyes. It was time, but she wouldn't proceed unless he agreed. He breathed deeply, a momentarily thrill of fear dancing through his blood.
"Do it," he said, his eyes challenging her. He tipped his head back, silently offering his neck to her. Maybe she'd get the point this time. He knew she wouldn't kill him.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Eve looked at him in silence, her eyes tracing the path of his jugular. Somehow she could not believe that he was freely offering himself to her. But, he was. She silently hoped that she was up to having the gift that he was giving so generously. By offering himself to her, he was easing her guilt.
She bent down to his neck, her fingers lovingly tracing the corded muscles they found there. Her tongue darted out and licked at his salty flesh. She smiled as she heard him moan. His hips shuddered and she gripped them firmly with her thighs. He was a neck person.
She nipped the flesh over his jugular with her teeth, taking great care not to cut him with her canines. She felt his palm at the back of her neck, pushing her mouth more firmly against his flesh. He wanted more. He had the craving now. Logan needed the bite.
She closed her lips over his throat and slid her canines deeply into his flesh. A sudden rush of his blood flooded over her tongue and down her throat. It was so warm. Warm, and potent like nothing she had never consumed before. He jerked against her, his fingers pressing deeply into her flesh. The bruises he caused disappeared as quickly as they had come.
His breathing became erratic, his chest heaved. He was overwhelmed by the sensation of the chemicals in her bite. They'd thought he'd be immune, but they were wrong. Her bite was more venomous than it had any right to be. But, she'd also lived for centuries without feeding on a human victim.
He gripped her hips again, and she felt him thrusting his stiff, aching member against her. She pressed the wet, aching juncture of her thighs against him, all the while relishing the flow of his blood into her body. It was heady stuff and it flowed like lava through her veins. The heat was almost unbearable. She wondered how he stood it.
As she tightened the hold she had on his neck, the thrusting of his hips quickened. He was almost there. She could feel the tension cresting inside of him. A long, low guttural moan spilled out of his mouth as she felt his hands press against the small of her back. He thrashed violently for a moment, then was still. She could feel the continued twitching of the muscles in his abdomen.
Vaguely she registered Jean's cry of alarm, and waited for the painful blast of Scott's eyes, but they never came.
Eve felt greedy as she hungrily consumed the blood flowing out of the wound in his neck. It was filling her belly. Her body tingled as it came alive with his blood. As the endorphins that his body had just released rushed into her mouth, she began to feel pleasantly dizzy. She wondered if it was what being intoxicated felt like.
Suddenly, she became aware of the vibrating muscles beneath her fingers. All the tension was gone from his body, and he was purring deep in the back of his throat like a large cat in a sun spot. She felt his arms wrap around her in a relaxed embrace.
As his blood cooled and his body relaxed, she felt herself responding in kind. She slid her fangs out of his neck and the flow of blood into her mouth slowed considerably. Eve stretched out, allowing her body to rest comfortably against his. She licked at the wounds on his neck until they closed completely.
She lifted her head slowly and realized that he had either fallen asleep or passed out. Eve sat up grudgingly, having no real desire to pull herself of the comfortable warmth of his body. She blinked frantically as her vision doubled. A soft chuckle escaped her. She was swimming in a cloud of Logans. I feel so strange, she thought as the world around her faded into darkness.
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