Two of a Kind
Chapter 1
by
Wolviesvixen



Disclaimer: All X-men and other known mutants are the property of Marvel Comics. Brianna/Vixen is mine.




"When logic and proportion
Have fallen so I'll be dead.
And the White Knight is talking backward,
And the Red Queen's off her head,
Remember....
What the dormouse said.
Heed your head,
Heed your he-e-a-a-a-a-d."


I finished the last note with a strong flourish and the crowd erupted in cheers and whistles.

"Yeah, girl!"

"Woo hoo!"

"Awesome!"

"Thanks, thank you! I'll be back, so keep your butts planted!" I shouted into the dented microphone. The familiar surge of adrenaline rushed to my head, making me punch-drunk. I leapt off the dimly lit stage and wiped the sweat off my face and neck with the back of my arm. My white tank top was soaked, as was the red bandana do-rag I always wore on stage to tame my auburn waves.

Everyone was still clapping and shouting. I grabbed my empty glass from the edge of the stage and pushed my way through the mass of sweaty drunken bar patrons. The scents of body odor, old perfume, alcohol and smoke all assaulted my nose in a nauseating wave.

"Hey, babe!"

"That was awesome!"

"Wanna come sit with me an' my friends?"

I felt someone grab my ass, another hand clapped me on the back, hard. I ignored it all and fought hard not to vomit from the stench overwhelming my heightened sense of smell. I gave the walking side of beef that was blocking the doorway a sharp elbow in the ribs and was finally out, into the relative quiet of the bar and pool room. I took a deep breath to clear my head and get my bearings. The rush I always got from being on stage was beginning to fade and I really needed a drink. I climbed up on a barstool and waved my empty glass at the scantily clad girl behind the bar.

"Waddaya have, hon?"

"Rum and diet." I slid the glass over and leaned heavily on my elbows, propping my chin on my open palms. I inhaled deeply through my nose again. The odors in the bar were much more bearable. I could smell that the guys playing pool drank Jack Daniels, the couple next to me had come from a movie theater. I caught an intriguing whiff of someone, almost familiar, as the bartender set my drink in front of me.

"It's on the guy down there," she announced with a wink of one heavily shadowed eye. I glanced in the direction she was pointing at the same time the half familiar scent came to me again. My eyes connected with the most incredible specimen of maleness I had ever seen. My black leather pants suddenly felt two sizes too small and I had to make a conscious effort to breathe.

He was leaning against the bar rail, one work boot-encased ankle crossed casually over the other. His impossibly long legs were clad in well- worn jeans that emphasized his taut thigh muscles and...other attributes. A huge, shiny Indian head belt buckle only served to draw my attention where I was trying desperately not to look. His well fitting white t-shirt stretched across a broad chest and over heavily muscled shoulders. Swallowing hard, I raised my eyes to his face, and I was totally gone.

He was looking at me with the most smoldering hazel-brown eyes I had ever seen, apart from the ones that looked back at me from the mirror every morning. His thick, almost black hair swept up and away from his temples, giving him a slightly wolf like appearance. This was amplified by the sideburns he wore down the entire length of his strong jaw line. An unlit cigar clamped between cynical, sensuous lips suddenly gave me the wild desire to be a Mi Cubano.

I shook my head abruptly, wondering at the effect this total stranger was having on me. This totally mesmerizing, incredibly sexy stranger with the wild animal aura, for his was the intriguing, woodsy scent I had caught earlier. It was stronger now, because he was sauntering towards me with a beer in his hand. He moved with a feral grace and attitude that spoke volumes, mostly to the not-so-innocent parts of my mind.

"Whoa," I said under my breath, swallowing around the sudden tightness in my chest. I forced myself to look down at my drink, my hands, anywhere but at him. My primal reaction to the guy disturbed me greatly. And why did his scent seem so familiar?

"Whoa, yourself," a low-tenored, husky voice growled from above my head. How the hell did he hear me say that? I wondered briefly. Then my senses were completely overwhelmed by his presence. His smell, his body heat, the energy emanating from him all made me feel as if I were going to slide right off the barstool like so much jelly. I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and looked up. And up.

Dark, flashing eyes looked down at me, a cocky half-smile showing a glimpse of humor in an otherwise brooding face. He towered over me by good six or seven inches, perched on the stool as I was. Standing, it would probably be closer to ten better than my five foot four inch height. The puddle-of-jelly feeling got worse.

Get a grip, Brianna, I scolded myself. He's just another joker, another barfly trying to score with the rocker chick.

I brought that tough-girl persona to the forefront and cocked an eyebrow at my companion. "I think this is taking tall, dark and handsome to the extreme." I lifted my drink toward him and gave him a close-lipped smile. "Thanks for the drink, though. Cheers." Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome touched his Molson's bottle briefly to the rim of my glass before removing the cigar from between his teeth and taking a long pull of his beer.

"You're welcome. You have a great voice." His words came out low and velvety, like a lion purring. "You've been singing a while." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yeah, as long as I can remember. I love singing." I said slowly, once again flustered. This was not how these conversations usually went. I relaxed a little and gave my new friend a real smile. "So, aren't you going to ask me if I come here often? Or what my sign is?"

This actually provoked a snort and a reluctant smile from my brooding companion. "Do you want me to?"

"Thank you, no," I laughed. "What's your name?" I was dying to have something to call this guy. I was also hoping his name would give me a clue as to why his scent was so teasingly familiar.

"Name's Logan. Yours?" God, that voice was really doing things to me. But "Logan" didn't ring any bells and, as enticing as he was, I wasn't ready to trust him just yet. Too many years in too many bars had taught me too many lessons I didn't care to repeat.

I nodded toward one of my promo posters on the wall. "Vixen," I replied, giving him a level stare, mentally daring him to make a stupid, lewd comment.

Logan gave back an identical hazel-brown stare, then quirked one eyebrow. "Your parents had a strange sense of humor, darlin'." He clamped his cigar between perfect white teeth and leaned against the bar, propping himself casually on one elbow, like he was settling in until he got a straight answer. I had the distinct feeling he was a man who always got what he wanted.

It was becoming very apparent that this Logan was not your average pick up artist. The longer I sat here, the more confused and intrigued I was becoming. I decided the only way to really figure this guy out was to read him. I reached out lightly with my mind, using the empathic ability I had to try and sense his true intentions. What I found made my head spin. The onslaught of confusion, anger and passion buffeted my consciousness so, that I gasped out loud and broke contact.

Logan was scowling at me. "Find what you're looking for?" he growled in a low, dangerous voice.

I gaped at him, my heart pounding in my ears. The brief intense contact with his mind had left my thoughts in chaos.

"The telepaths I know usually ask before they try something like that," Logan continued. He brought his face dangerously close to mine, and his glare got angrier. I had never been more scared or excited in my life.

"I'm an empath," I blurted breathlessly. I clapped my hands over my traitorous mouth before I could give anything else away. Logan's nostrils flared once, twice, as if he were testing my scent. The blood was finally beginning to settle in my head and a suspicion was growing in my mind. I caught that enticing, half familiar smell again and the realization hit me full force. I smiled and leaned forward, forcibly ignoring all of the delicious thought being this close to him was putting in my head. It was time to make HIM squirm. I brushed Logan's ear with my lips, resisting the tantalizing urge to catch the velvety lobe between my teeth. "You're a mutant too, aren't you?" I whispered knowingly.

Logan inhaled sharply, whether in response to my words or my touch, I didn't know. "You're good, darlin'," he murmured, his warm breath tickling my ear. That sensation, along with the feel of his whiskers brushing against my cheek, set my nerves tingling. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by mental and emotional stimuli. Thoughts swirling, I felt a powerful surge of...something course up from my gut to explode in my mind. I had sudden, vivid images of Logan and myself tangled in a passionate embrace, sweat glistening on our naked bodies...

Logan and I both gasped simultaneously and backed, no, were pushed away from each other as if by an actual physical force. I had to grab hold of the bar rail to keep from tumbling off my seat. The look of shock and bewilderment on Logan's face was surely mirrored on my own.

"What the hell was that ?!?" I demanded angrily. I could feel the heat rising in my face, and knew I was blushing furiously, the blood pounding in my ears.

Logan recovered quickly, and with a cocky half-grin replied, " I don't know, but I wouldn't go around doin' that to just anybody, if I were you."

"What !? Wh...you...th-that wasn't me!" I stammered, my thoughts still scrambled.

"Sure as hell wasn't me." Logan took a long swallow from his beer. I gaped at him, no organized words coming to mind. I vaguely heard the crowd noise in the other room gain volume, and my name being called over the PA system. My last set was coming up and I had never felt less like going on stage. My brain seemed like it was trying to leak out through my ears, and my mouth was dry as cotton.

I downed the last of my drink in one large gulp and stood, a bit unsteadily. "Gotta go. Thanks for the drink, Logan, " I said brusquely, wanting desperately to get away from him so I could think clearly.

"Call me Wolverine, Vixen." The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable and, surprisingly, it hurt.

I took a deep breath, steeled myself once again and looked straight into the Wolverine's eyes. "My name's Brianna," I said and felt something soften between us. I knew, somehow, we were now connected, for whatever inexplicable reason, and my life would never be the same.



CHAPTERS:   1   2   3




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