Drops of Crimson: Searching

[ladydeathfaerie]

Title: Drops of Crimson: Searching

Chapter Five: Truth and Lies
Fandoms: a mash up of the Mutant Sues, the movie Sues, the Supervillainesses, and probably anyone else i can think of tossing in for good measure
Characters: various from the different universes
Rating: going with a pretty strong NC-17 here. seriously.
Warning: violence, sex, language, possibly other things. we'll know when we get there
Disclaimer: i do not own anyone from the Marvel universe. Dare is mine, but you don't want her. honestly. girl's a mess. oh, Mystery is mine, too. you don't want her, either. she's moody. also, Alex is mine. watch out for her wrench. Rose belongs to nanaeanaven. Haley and Miri belong to dazzledfirestar. Elsa belongs to cathryne. i swear i'm not making any money from this. i just do what the sick voices inside my head tell me to. i write purely for my enjoyment. and possibly the comments. please don't sue, harass, or bother me. i have no money to pay you, but i do have a really nasty temper. and i know some good cuss words.

Author's Note: so, its like this. Drops of Crimson: Hunted was only supposed to be a one shot type thing. but i started writing and the bunnies kept twitching their noses and suddenly i was staring down the snout of a plot dragon. and... welp! here we are! is anyone really surprised by this? nobody? didn't think so. hopefully this won't be super long. you know. by my standards...

Summary: "You know, you really shouldn't be out here all by yourself. There are bad things that stalk the night, just looking for a chance to make someone like you their victim."

Drops of Crimson - The Index

Rose sighed for what must have been the thousandth time before she pushed away from her work bench in disgust. Her new formula was not coming together as well as she'd like, which meant a delay on giving it to Clint. She knew that the call was still strong, that he fought against it every single evening. And she knew that Dare knew it, too. That that was the reason she'd intensified her nightly searches for LeBeau. She was hunting her ex-lover in an attempt to save her current lover.

That hunt was doing serious damage to Dare's mental state. Rose could see it on her face. It was in the way the girl watched the man, in the very way she moved and breathed. She was sure everyone else saw it, too. And nothing they did or said would convince the girl to give up the hunt and concentrate on healing. Her psyche had taken a beating with a previous lover. It wasn't going to mend itself if she didn't slow down and rest. They'd tried making her see what she was doing to herself. To Clint. But Dare Scott, pyrokinetic and former X-Man, was disgustingly stubborn and she refused to listen. So they'd tried ensuring that she was never alone when she was inside the mansion.

And, still, she somehow managed to slip away from them and go off hunting on her own.

Rose supposed she should be glad that the tracking chip Stark had implanted worked. Well, mostly. There were times when it didn't seem like the chip worked at all. Times when, no matter how hard they tried, they simply could not find her. Those were the times when there would be nothing on the electronic map Stark had programmed into his vast computer network. Not even a tiny blip of where Dare might be. As if she'd simply... disappeared.

It drove Stark up the wall because he'd assured them that the chip would work, that there wouldn't be any interference from Dare's powers. And yet, that seemed to be exactly the case. On the days when the chip blanked, everyone in the mansion was left in something of a tizzy. Clint would fall silent, almost sullen, and he'd wait in the living area for her return. Rose understood his reactions. No matter how much he didn't say it, Clint held deep emotions for the pyrokinetic. Her survival and her happiness directly affected his own. And each time she disappeared, he worried that it would be the last time.

Rose and her friends worried. Often times, Mystery would go scouting to see if she could find where Dare had gone. Kiera would go with her, the two of them a dangerous team. They usually came back before Dare. Rose stayed behind. Her talents were better served creating creams and lotions and concoctions that could help against a vampire's tricks. She'd tried hunting, once or twice. But her plants were generally no match for a vampire. So she remained behind at the mansion, kept an eye on Clint because she knew that was what Dare would want. And tried to avoid paying any attention to one Tony Stark.

She had to admit, though. It was kind of fun to watch Stark go batshit crazy trying to figure out how his tech had failed him when Dare disappeared on them. He would spend hours in front of the big electronic map he'd created, fingers flying maniacally over the mid-air projection of New York City in an effort to discover where the hell the firestarter had gone. And, much as Rose didn't like admitting it, she liked seeing Stark out of control. She liked to see that he was a mere human and not some god that the media tried to make him out to be. Some days, she made a point of goading him further, just to get a rise out of him. He never seemed to realize what she was doing.

To be honest, it was probably good that he didn't. Because if he stopped freaking out about Dare and started trying to turn his considerable charms her way... Rose was afraid she'd be doomed. She hadn't been able to chase that damn kiss from her mind, despite the knowledge that people like Stark didn't mix well with people like her. Hero. Villain. Such things wouldn't work. But there was a part of her that was curious. What would it be like to let him get closer? What would a longer, deeper kiss be like? What would sex with him be like?

What would losing her heart to him be like?

Rose cut that thought off before it could plant its roots deep in her heart. That was the last thing she needed to deal with. The entanglements of emotions and the desire of the heart. It was hard enough to find a good villain to have a decent roll in the hay with without having to deal with the inevitable pressure he, or she, would put on her to bend to their will. She couldn't imagine how impossible it would be with someone like Tony Stark, who bled heroism the way some people bled anger or sadness or annoyance. Could she honestly believe that he would accept her the way she was? She was a villain. And history loved to tell stories about how the heroes always destroyed the villains.

The rustle of leaves drew her away from her line of thinking. She found that many of her plants were drooping, their leaves hanging low in a reflection of her own thoughts and feelings. Frowning, she did her best to shake her thoughts off. She was not pining over Tony Stark. She wanted nothing to do with him. He was conceited and arrogant. He had no care for his fellow humans or the planet. He thought the world revolved around him. She did not want a relationship with the man. She didn't want anything to do with him.

Her memories rushed to call her a liar, assaulting her with memories of their one kiss. His mouth had been a bizarre mix of possession and need. She hadn't expected his kiss to be so soft and gentle. Or so strong and demanding. How anyone could kiss like that, incorporate two distinctly different sensations into a single action, was beyond her. And how such a kiss had made her toes curl with need, had made desire kindle to life deep in her belly, was something for which she had no answer. She'd only known the man for little more than an hour when he'd kissed her, for pity's sake! There was no way she was attracted to that ass of a man after only knowing him for an hour.

Shoving Tony Stark to a shadowy corner of her brain, she shifted her focus back to the formula she'd been scribbling on a notepad. There had to be something she was missing. Thus far, it had been only moderately successful in helping Clint with his addiction. LeBeau's blood was still strong in his veins, despite the fact that it had been a couple weeks since they'd liberated him from the vampire's clutches. The formula should have done a better job of quelling the need for blood. She couldn't figure out why it wasn't.

It was times like this, when she needed to understand human biology, that she wished she'd studied biology with any kind of intensity. Maybe, if she had, she could take samples of Clint's blood and see if there was some anomaly in it that made him almost immune to her concoctions. Unfortunately, she hadn't. And even if she had, she wasn't sure it would be of any use. Because she didn't really understand how a vampire could use their blood to addict someone to them the way they did. What she needed was someone who could tell her how it all worked.

Unbidden, those images of Stark she'd shoved to the back burner jumped forward as if to say she could ask him. Rose snorted. "It'll be a cold day in hell before I ask him for help," she muttered.

"Ask who for help?" Stark's voice shattered the silence surrounding her. Rose found herself jumping in guilt and pleasure, which sparked her temper.

"Do you know how to knock?" she snapped, turning to give him a glare. He was staring at her with a knowing smile on his face, which only broadened when he lifted one hand and rapped a pair of knuckles against the door jamb. "What do you want?"

"You've been holed up in here for hours. I thought maybe you might be hungry. Mystery has something cooking in the kitchen that smells so good, I might already be full," he told her. Rose blinked at that, almost taking the time to figure out what the hell he was saying. Then she shook her head and turned to look at the papers on the desk before her.

"I don't have time. I'm trying to refine my formula," she answered. There was silence a moment, then he took a few, tentative steps into the room.

"Clint?" he asked softly. She still heard the concern threaded into his friend's name. He was worried, despite the fact that he was doing his best to seem like he wasn't. She tried hard to keep his compassion from touching her, but it worked its way past the hedgerow of thorny bushes she'd grown around her heart so that it softened her feelings for him. Just a little.

"Yes. He shouldn't still be hearing the call. My formula is sound. I've used it to help break the connection between other blood whores and their vampire masters. I don't understand why it hasn't worked with Clint." She shook her head and glared at the formula before her. "There must be something in LeBeau's blood. That's the only thing I can think of."

"Its possible it has to do with his mutations," Stark suggested. "We can always send some of Clint's blood to Mr. Fantastic and see if he can find anything. I'm not a biologist so I'm of no use there. If you need something built, I'm your guy. But I'm useless beyond that."

Something in his voice caught her attention, saw her turning to stare at him. There was nothing on his face, but she could see it in his eyes. Just a touch of guilt. It was buried deep, as if he didn't want people to know he was a mere human. But she'd seen something like this from him before, when he'd been implanting the chip under Dare's skin. He was as worried about the pyrokinetic as she was. Couple that with the worry he had for Clint...

"That sounds like a good idea," she replied softly.

"You look exhausted, Rose. Come get something to eat. Put the formula aside for the evening. Take the night off and relax." There was that compassion again. It was dangerous to see him exhibit it where his friends were concerned. It was devastating to see him exhibit it where she was concerned.

"I need to figure out why it doesn't work. I promised Dare that I'd keep Clint safe for her. I always keep my promises," she told him, shifting her attention back to the papers spread on the table behind her.

"It can wait one more night. Clint is helping Mystery in the kitchen. So he won't be going anywhere tonight," Tony said. His voice was closer, telling her he was moving up behind her. She shook her head, eyes locked to the scrawl of black ink on the graph paper as if it would offer up an answer she could put to use. Or protection from the honest concern in Tony Stark's voice.

"Rose." His lips formed her name into a caress. One of his hands settled on her arm, sending shivers rolling up and down her spine. Anger burst forth, hot and scalding, prompting her to almost violently rip her arm from under his touch.

"I do not need you to play babysitter with me, Mr. Stark!" she snarled, making sure he saw the dislike in her eyes. "I know my limitations and needs far better than you do. Kindly leave me alone so that I can work in peace."

He frowned at the sudden change in her attitude. She didn't care. She needed him to walk out the door and let her be in peace or she'd do something she'd regret. Something like shove him up against the wall and kiss him senseless. The urge didn't make sense and it only served to enhance her temper. His eyes were locked to her face, studying her intently. His frown slipped into a faint smile as if he could read in her expression the real reason she didn't want him there. That smile saw odd tingling sensations sparking to life all through her body. Her anger inched up another notch. She stepped forward and put her hands on his chest, shoved him back and away from her. "Get out."

"Rose--"

She shoved again, harder this time. It moved him back a pair of steps. "Get out and leave me alone!"

"I don't think--"

"Get! Out!" she spit. Her hands hit his chest one more time in order to shove him toward the door. When they did, his came up to circle her wrists. To take hold of them and tug on them. She found herself tumbling into his arms, her chest pressed to his. Before she could even think of pushing away, his mouth was on hers.

It was like that first kiss, all heat and passion and need rolled up into one big ball. This time, it was tempered with promise and hunger. His lips were hard and soft all at the same time, and they kissed her with a recklessness that made her want to inch closer. Let him kiss her more. She didn't understand it, just knew she had to get away from him before he destroyed her resolve. Her fingers curled into his chest with the intention of shoving him away from her. But her nails scraped his flesh through the thin t-shirt he wore, prompting shivers to slide up and down his spine. His body pressed her tighter, rubbed every hard, muscular inch of it against her softness as he backed her into the nearest wall. She shuddered at the feel of his erection prodding her through their clothing.

Having his mouth on hers was like being washed in fire. Heat ran under her skin, made her bones soft and weak so that she had to cling to him to remain on her feet. Need bubbled in the pit of her stomach, thick and golden like honey. It begged for more. Saw her shifting her hands so that she could slide them down over his ass. She cupped the curves of his cheeks, put all her strength into using them to urge him closer until it felt like they were practically one. Fucking hell, she wanted him.

His hands moved, framing her face between his palms for a moment before gliding down. They traced the length of her throat until they came to the spot where her neck met her shoulders. She felt them, their touch almost like feathers teasing across her flesh, as they skimmed over the ridge of her shoulders to her arms. Her skin tingled where they touched, made her want him more. Made her crave the feel of his skin on hers. All of it. Everywhere. That craving saw her hands slide from his ass to the waist of his jeans, intent on ridding him of the annoying garment.

His fingers reached her wrists, then shifted over until they could tug at the material of her tank top. She shivered when the heat of his palms settled on her waist. That heat climbed up, moving in slow increments, until they reached the expanse of skin just under her breasts. The promise of it enveloping them was enough to see her moaning loudly into his mouth, notes of need and frustration and pleading somehow conveyed in that single sound. Then she was sighing as his palms cupped her breasts, as his fingers splayed and caged them.

It was the feel of cool air against her puckered nipples that brought her crashing down to earth again. She jerked away from him, no small feat when her back was pressed up against the wall, and shoved at him with both hands. It took several tries to break him away from her, to push him back so that there was space between their bodies.

Rose's hands shook as she righted her clothes, and she refused to look at him. How dare he! When she had her breasts once more inside of her bra, her tank top tugged back into place, she stomped past him toward her work table.

"Rose," he started, but she shook her head and pointed at the door.

"Out!" she ordered tersely.

"Rose, please," he tried again. There was a pleading in his tone that tugged at her heart strings. She crossed her arms over her chest, refused to look at him.

"Get out! Now!" The anger in her voice, the pain and betrayal and confusion, saw her plants reacting. Leaves shook, the sound almost like that of a rattlesnake's tail when warning people of its proximity. "Get out! Get out! Get out!"

There was silence for several long seconds. Then the latch on the door catching broke the silence. It shattered her composure and saw her sinking down onto the bench she'd pulled up to the table. Saw her covering her face with her hands. What was she thinking? What was she doing? She had no business getting involved with Tony Stark. None at all. It had to have been a fluke. Some kind of mishap. She was tired. Exhausted, really. Trying to find the answers where Clint was concerned was draining. It took so much out of her. Coupled with her worry for Dare, it was understandable that she would seek solace in the arms of an attractive man who gave the appearance of being concerned.

But he was a hero and she was a villain and she had no right considering crawling into bed with him. None at all. It wasn't going to happen again. She wasn't going to let it. She was absolutely not going to get naked and do the nasty with Tony Stark.

No matter how badly her body wanted her to.

~*~*~*~*~

"Wait. Stop it there!" Alex ordered, eyes locked to the screen. Miri dutifully hit the pause button. She watched as Alex stared at the image frozen on the wall-sized monitor before them, moments ticking by in silence, before one hand reached up and outlined something she thought she saw. "Back it up, Miri. Slowly."

Miri tapped a few keys. The image stayed static a few seconds, then began to rewind so very, very slowly. She paid attention to the screen before her, trying to see what Alex had seen. This was the fifth time they'd gone through this footage and, thus far, Miri hadn't been able to see anything that told them something they didn't already know about their suspected firebug. And no matter Alex's conviction, they didn't have proof that the fires were being set by Dare Scott. Of course Miri had dug into the mutant's file as soon as Director Fury had given them their assignment, but nothing in it had indicated that Xavier thought the Scott girl was capable of anything like what they were seeing.

"Do it again, Miri. I think there's something here," Alex said softly.

"This feels like a waste of time, Alex. There's nothing on this video that confirms that Alasdare Scott is the person setting those fires. Nor is there anything that suggests why she might be doing such a thing in the first place." Despite her misgivings, Miri reset the video and began the super slow playback once again. "We don't even know if she's still alive. No one has seen her since Canada."

"Its her, Miri," Alex replied. Her words sounded distant, as if her brain was already far away. "I know it in my gut. The only thing I can't figure is why she'd be setting these fires."

"Maybe losing her team sent her over the edge," Miri suggested, watching Alex and not the screen. She'd seen Alex focused before, but never like this. It was slightly disconcerting. "Assuming, of course, that this is her. How do we know there isn't another pyrokinetic out there?"

"Do you think that there could be another pyrokinetic out there and Xavier not know about it?" Alex asked her, then tapped the screen. "There! I knew I saw something. Play it again, Miri. And watch closely. Right at the minute six mark."

Miri heaved a sigh to let her friend and colleague know exactly what she thought of Alex's hunch, but she did as she was told. She reset the video and then started playing it in reverse so painstakingly slowly. Her attention was focused entirely on the playback. So this time, when the screen jumped and glitched, Miri saw it. And frowned. How had she missed it before? How had Alex seen it to begin with? It was almost non-existent, only a tiny blip on the screen that barely lasted the time it took for a heart to beat.

"What the hell?" Miri asked, mostly to herself. But she played it again. And again. And yet again. Forward and back. Until she knew the jump by heart. She swore she could see a disturbance in the air next to the pyrokinetic at the second Alex had marked. But it was such a quick event that it appeared as little more than a glitch on the playback. A small jump that didn't make sense because nothing moved at all. Just... something did. "What is that?"

"I don't know, Miri. Cue up the footage from the first arson. Let's take a look at it," Alex suggested. Miri nodded and worked on doing just that. They'd been through all the footage already, having spent hours watching and rewatching it all. She wasn't sure if going through the first arson's video again was going to yield them anything. But she brought it up anyway, because Alex seemed convinced. As she did so, she watched the other woman reach absently for her water. Miri frowned at that.

"You okay, Alex? You're drinking water. And I haven't seen you with anything fried in more than five minutes. You're not getting sick, are you?" she asked, only mostly teasing. The woman's appetite was the stuff of legends. Alex never looked away from the screen, but a finger rose to let Miri know Alex thought she was number one. Miri huffed a laugh as she clicked on the file belonging to the footage of the first fire. It opened, cued up to start at the moment their firebug stepped into view. Alex set her water aside and made a motion that let Miri know she was ready to start.

Miri decided to cut to the chase and started the footage playing in slow motion. Super slow motion. The frames inched by so painfully slowly that watching paint dry would have gone faster. But soon enough, Miri was pausing and rewinding to start it over again. And again. And again yet another time. Because there was the same glitch, the same jump in the recording that said something had moved even though nothing had moved. "Son of a bitch. How did no one notice this before?" Miri asked.

"Rewind and play at regular speed," Alex told her. Miri did so, watching as the figure stepped into view and stood there. A moment later, the fire started. And there was no jump to be seen. As if it didn't exist. Miri frowned and played it one more time to be sure she wasn't imagining things. Just like the first time, there was nothing to see on the screen. Just a silent figure and hungry flames.

"How the hell did you spot that?" Miri asked her, not sure if she should be impressed with Alex's abilities or frightened by them.

"Purely by chance. Play it slow again and I'll show you," Alex replied. Miri dutifully rewound the video once more, then started it playing slow yet another time. "The best way to see it is to not look at it. Stare straight ahead. You'll see what I mean when the part goes by."

Miri nodded and shifted her focus away from the screen, keeping the image just at the edge of her vision. Doing so enabled her to see some kind of shadow where the jump was located. In fact, Miri discovered that the shadow was the jump. She frowned and checked it out again. "That doesn't make any sense. Its a shadow that blips across the screen when you aren't looking. But when you do look, all you see is some kind of jump in the playback. What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know, Miri," Alex shook her head. "I have no explanation. I can't even tell you what the shadow is, and how it relates to the jump. They're obviously related. But I don't know how." Alex fell silent a moment, releasing a faint sigh that Miri almost didn't catch. "Yet."

"I know that tone of voice, Alex," Miri said, rising from the chair she'd been occupying to cross to where Alex stood. The other woman blinked at her. Alex's persistence and stubbornness were bright in her eyes. "You're obsessing. The last time you obsessed, Fury put you on trainee duty for a month."

"Eh," Alex replied. Miri shook her head and put her hands on her friend's shoulders.

"Think about what you're doing, Alex. We are supposed to be figuring out how to get our hands on this Dare Scott. Not trying to figure out all of her inner most secrets. Judging by the look of her, I'd say everything boils down to 'Mom and Dad didn't love me enough.' Let's just figure out how to find her and how to bring her in. That's what Fury wants us to do," Miri said quietly.

"There's something not right about all this, Miri," Alex said softly, her gaze sliding back to the frozen image on the screen. "Do we really want to find this girl and bring her in? You know what we'd be sentencing her to."

"That isn't our problem to deal with. That's a problem that is above our pay grade," Miri warned. Of course she was concerned about Director Fury's desire to use a young girl as a weapon in the war. But this was a war they had no hopes of winning unless they had an ace in the hole. Dare Scott seemed like the perfect solution to a hopeless situation.

Alex gave her a look. Her expression suggested she wanted to say something. But she kept whatever it was to herself and turned back to the screen. "Cue up the next one, Miri. Let's see if we can see more shadows."

Miri stared at the back of Alex's head for a little while longer, then sighed and headed back to the computer terminal. A few clicks of a few keys brought up the next video and Miri started the playback. She shifted her attention to the video and absolutely did not think about how wrong it was to try and use a young girl as a weapon...

~*~*~*~*~

"You know, you really shouldn't be out here all by yourself," he told the figure in front of him. It never moved, shape hidden by the hoodie it wore. The person kept their back turned to him as whoever they were watched the building slowly succumb to the flames that were eating away at the structure. "There are bad things that stalk the night, just looking for a chance to make someone like you their victim."

"I'm nobody's victim," the voice said softly, its pitch letting him know that he was dealing with a woman.

"Everybody's a victim, if they don't watch their back," he said.

"I am nobody's victim," she repeated. There was a hard core of conviction in her voice that old him she had been. Once. Curious. He studied her a moment, from the tight set of her shoulders beneath the material of her jacket to the way she stood, seemingly rooted to her spot. And her focus was solely for the burning building.

He let his gaze slide back to the growing inferno, surprised to find that it was burning higher and brighter and hotter than it had only literal seconds ago. That was extremely odd. "You probably want to step away from that building. It looks like it'll come down any minute. The flames are close to raging out of control."

"They're not," she assured him. There was an odd quality to her words that put him on edge. It was never a good thing when he got that feeling. It usually meant something bad was going to happen. Damn it. He was getting tired of that feeling. He'd been getting it a lot lately.

"Miss, I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the building," he said, making sure that he put a touch of coldness and command into his tone.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?" she asked. Her words saw him glancing to the gun in his hand. He wasn't sure how she knew he was holding a gun. She hadn't turned around once since he'd come up behind her. And he certainly hadn't made any noise with it. Which could only mean one thing. Double damn it.

He holstered his gun, reaching for the wand hooked to the pack on his back. After taking it in hand, he reached for the lighter in his pocket. Flicked it until a flame rode the top of it. Set the flame to the end of the wand.

"No. That particular gun doesn't have silver rounds in it." He was lying. It absolutely had silver rounds in it. But it wasn't quite as fun to use as his other toy was. And he did so like his other toy. "But I will fry you. And we both know vampires don't survive against fire."

He'd expected the woman to turn and look at him, eyes wide with fear. He'd expected her to try and make a run for it. Or even at him. None of those things happened. In fact, she did something he hadn't even considered as an option. She threw her head back and laughed. He didn't see how anything he'd said was funny. Fine. If that's the way she wanted to play it.

His finger tapped the trigger. Flames leapt from the end of the wand, fueled by the mix in the tanks on his back, and streamed across the distance toward where the woman stood. She put her arms out, tipped her head back so that she looked like she was standing in the rain. And bathed in the flames as they plumed around her. A second later, the flames simply disappeared and the woman, completely untouched by the fire, turned to look at him. "Not a bad idea, using a flame thrower to hunt vampires."

God, she looked young. He readjusted his assessment of her, decided she was more likely a girl than a woman.

He was a little freaked out. He certainly hadn't expected the girl to simply dance in the flames as if she was being showered with glitter or something else. And he could handle the fact that she had. After all, there were all different kinds of beings inhabiting this world. But it was the faintly maniacal look in her eyes that threw him off. Because she looked like she'd thoroughly enjoyed being showered in flames. And, to be honest, he didn't quite know what to make of that just yet.

She tipped her head to the side, just a bit, as she studied him curiously. "I've never met anyone else who hunts with flames. I'd say it was nice to meet you, but seeing as you just tried to fry my ass..."

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he remarked, putting the flame out on the end of the wand. She sent him a smile that was filled with darkness.

"Oh, no. I get it. Its easy to deal with the undead using a flame thrower. Its also easy to deal with anything else that goes bump in the night when you've got a flame thrower trained on them." The smile slid away and her eyes narrowed. "Unfortunately for you, I am the flame thrower."

It was the only warning he got, then there were flames rising up behind him. He could feel the heat of them at his back, prompting him to ditch the pack before it exploded on him. He'd just gotten it off when the screams started, prompting him to turn. Several figures were blazing with fire, clawing at their skin and trying to shed their clothes. As if it would do them any good. He could see their fangs, mouths opened wide enough with their shrieks of pain to show them. Not even a flood was going to stop them from burning. He watched, only mildly annoyed, as the vampires writhed in pain before dropping to the ground and slowly going out. Piles of ash and bone were left where they'd stood.

He turned back to the girl to find that she was watching him closely. "Going to try and shoot me now?" she asked quietly. There was nothing in her face or voice or posture to tell him that she was anything other than relaxed. But he knew, without a doubt, that if he went for his gun, she'd torch him where he stood. He showed her his empty hands, made sure they were some distance from his body so that she didn't think she was in any immediate danger. "Didn't think so. Just so you know, I'm not a vampire." There was a touch of annoyance in her voice.

"I guess not. I don't know any vampire that could have survived that blast of flames," he replied steadily.

"What are you doing in my city?" she asked. This time, her voice held a low warning. He'd better answer her, or he'd be her next target.

"I'm a hunter," he told her. One hand motioned toward the tank on the ground some distance from where he stood. "I've been working my up to New York City for the past six months or so. Its been slow going because every town has a problem with these super evil vampires."

She frowned at that. As if she didn't quite understand what he was saying. "All vampires are evil," she informed him. Her voice was low, but he still heard the mix of anger and pain in it. Oh, yes. Something had had happened once. She'd been someone's victim.

"Is that why you've been setting fire to the city?" he asked her.

"What makes you think I'm setting fire to the city?" There was no defensiveness in her words. Just cool curiosity. The girl's ever changing attitude was enough to give him whiplash.

"I may be new in town, but I pay attention to the news. Helps me do my job," he replied, one hand sweeping out to indicate the flame thrower on the ground. "The fires are all the stations are talking about. Its even getting some national traction. You might want to re-evaluate what you're doing, unless you want a lot of innocent people to get hurt. There are enough nut cases in the world that will try to copy you. And they won't care if civilians get caught in the inferno."

She gave him a once over, eyes raking him from head to toe and back. The look she wore when she returned her gaze to his face told him she wasn't impressed. "Whatever I may or may not be doing, that's my business." Her gaze flicked to his left for a moment, then came back to him. She offered him a smile that was as insincere as the day was long. "But allow me to offer you one suggestion. Leave now and go back to where ever it is you came from. This is my city. I'll protect it. Even if that means protecting it from outsiders."

There was definite warning in her voice. Before he could call her on it, question her, threaten her, do anything, a wall of flames rose up before him. It was so high and hot and intense that he was forced to take a step back. To put a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare. Moments later, the glare was gone and so was the girl. Shit.

Turning to retrieve his flame thrower, he found himself facing down the barrels of several guns. A small team of people stood in a semi-circle behind him, each one pointing a weapon his way. At the front were two women. Both wore a blank expression that he recognized as being a cop face. One of them, a redhead, cocked back the hammer on her Glock to let him know she was in charge. "Hands up. Do as we say and we will not shoot you."

He put his hands up slowly. Double shit.

~*~

It seemed to be a universal truth that all interrogation rooms looked the same. Bland walls painted a dark, depressing color with nothing upon them to look at. Uncomfortable metal or wood chairs that made your ass go numb in about two seconds. A metal table placed in the middle of the room with brackets used to secure prisoners. A two way mirror facing the back of the investigators' heads so that whoever was looking on from the other side got a good view of the prisoners as they were questioned. It was a room designed to make the prisoners want to talk.

Presently, he was the only one in the room. After being cuffed with cuffs he thought might just be able to contain a rampaging shifter, he'd been loaded into the back of a black vehicle that screamed federal government and taken to some facility. There were no windows to tell him where they'd gone, which seemed to be par for the course when dealing with shady government groups. He'd been escorted, at gun point, from the back of the van to the room he was presently sitting in. He'd been here, by himself, for the better part of what he figured to be an hour.

He was pretty sure that conversation was going to be fucking fun when his hosts decided to join him.

To pass the time, he'd let his mind play back the encounter between himself and the girl in the alley. There was something off about her. Something he couldn't put his finger on just yet. Give him time and he'd figure it out, but he'd need more information for that. Still, he puzzled over who and what she could be. There weren't many creatures out there that could bathe in flames and come out untouched. Not even her clothes had been singed. What he did know was that she had a personal stake in whatever was going on in the city. There was no way she was burning buildings just for the fun of it. There was definitely a reason. He just didn't know what that reason might be.

He was broken out of his musings by the faint sound of the knob turning. He didn't bother shifting his position, nor did he change the expression on his face. He had no doubt that someone had been standing on the other side of that mirror since he'd been left in the room, watching him. He also had no doubt that they were bored off their asses because he hadn't done a goddamn thing or said a goddamn word since they'd put him there.

The door opened to allow a tall, bald black man into the room. There was a patch over his left eye, ribbons of scars showing above and below it. He was clad in all black and he gave the impression of not giving a shit what was about to happen in the room, so long as he got what he wanted. The two women from the alley were with him, as was another woman. She wore an air of authority that said she held high rank in whatever group they worked for. He gave them all a blank stare and waited.

"Mr. Forrester," the black man began, authority edging his voice. The man in charge, no doubt. This was going to be fun. He was sure of it. A file folder slapped down onto the surface of the table. "Or, should I say, Federal Marshal Forrester?"

"Ted works," Edward responded, his good old boy Ted Forrester persona firmly in place.

"Okay. Ted." The man in charge put his hands on the table and leaned forward. It didn't feel like an intimidation thing yet. But that could change in the blink of an eye. "Why didn't you identify yourself to my agents as a Federal Marshal?"

"Your agents never asked," he responded calmly. "Given they'd found me at the scene of a fire with a flame thrower on the ground nearby, I was under the impression they believed I started the fire. I figured it was easier to go along with their orders than try to explain myself there."

The man stared at him, gaze shrewd and considering. A glance over his shoulder saw one of the women stepping forward with a key in hand. The dark-headed woman made quick work of the locks on the cuffs, then scooped them up and stepped back next to her partner. "We know you didn't set the fire," she told him, voice steady and even.

"Interesting. If you knew I hadn't started the fire, why did you go through the process of cuffing me and bringing me here." One hand motioned toward the room absently.

"Because we need to talk to you, Ted. And there are fewer ears here than out on the streets," the man in charge told him. He tugged a chair out and settled himself into it, directly across from Edward. The two of them stared at one another for a few moments. Then the other man leaned forward and put his arms on the table, fingers twined in one another. "There was someone else there tonight. Wasn't there?"

Ah. So this was about the girl. Edward considered his answer carefully. It didn't take much to put together what was going on here. It didn't seem a coincidence that he'd been taken into custody by a shadowy government agency only a short time after talking to a girl who could stand in a stream of fire without being hurt. Especially not when the girl in question seemed to be destroying known vampire locations throughout the city. It was highly likely they wanted to know everything he knew about the girl. He suspected they'd want to use her to fight the vampire plague creeping across the country. Was he enough of an asshole to give them what they wanted?

"There were some vampires," he replied, deciding to see where this went.

"There are always vampires these days," the man in charge replied. "There was someone else, though. Wasn't there?"

"Maybe," he hedged, good old boy act still firmly in place.

"We're looking for a girl, Forrester. A girl with a very special talent. We think you had a conversation with her." The man's hand moved to the file folded and opened it. There were reports there, along with photos. He started tugging the photos out, spreading them across the surface of the table. He found himself staring at images of charred buildings, their scorched skeletons stark and accusatory against the brightness of the daytime sun. There were also photos of charred corpses, skin crisped to black with hints of muscle and bone peeking through in places. They must have run from a burning building before dying, because all of them were some distance from the burnt out husks that had been left behind.

The last photo the man showed him was a color shot of two girls chatting together. They looked to be friends. The shorter one carried several bags with store logos on them that suggested a mall. The other girl, the taller one, gave the impression that she didn't want to be there. She stood out starkly from the other people in the photo, including her friend. While the friend was in a skirt and feminine blouse, the taller girl wore all black. Her hair was black save the streaks of purple and blue. Her face was a pale oval amidst all the darkness. And familiar.

"This girl, Forrester." The man tapped the image of the taller girl. "We believe this girl is responsible for all of the fires that have been plaguing our city in recent weeks. And we believe you spoke with her earlier at the scene of that fire."

"I spoke with someone. I can't say for certain if it was this girl," Edward said. "It was dark and whoever it was wore a hoodie so their face was in shadow."

"Cut the shit, Forrester," the woman who'd unlocked his cuffs snarled. His attention slid her way. She gave the appearance of wanting an answer. But some instinct said she was putting on an act. "We know you were talking to this girl before we arrived on scene. Tell us what you know and we'll let you go."

"Technically, I can walk out the door right now," he returned, tone pleasant and bright. "And I might just do that. Because I am not required to give you any information. Especially not about a random citizen that I'm sure doesn't want to be sucked into a big, shady government agency who no doubt plans to exploit them for their own purposes."

"You were walking around with a flame thrower, Forrester. I can hold you for that."

"No. I don't think you can," Edward responded, shifting his focus back to the man in charge. He kept his voice easy, the drawl making him sound non-threatening. "Because I'm sure, when you found out that I'm a Federal Marshal, you also discovered the fact that I'm a licensed vampire hunter. And I'm sure, being the head of a shady government agency, you know that all vampire hunters were given the ability to hunt and execute vampires without needing a warrant of execution."

The man staring at him frowned at that.

"So long as I'm hunting the dark vampires, my flame thrower is perfectly legal," Edward added. To make sure they understood where he stood in this mess.

"That girl is the biggest flame thrower this world has ever seen," the man told him. Funny. The girl had described herself exactly the same way. "Grant."

The redhead moved forward. At the same time, the man who had been speaking and the other two women moved off to give her space. She raised her hand and pointed it the mirror. He got a brief glimpse of something caught in her hold, then there were images flickering to life on the mirror. He was presented with a photo of a group of six young women. All of them wore one kind of uniform or another. There was a redhead who towered over the rest, a look of self assurance and intensity in her stare. On her left stood a girl with a warm complexion, her eyes and hair dark. She wore gold, a form fitting suit that looked to almost be a part of her. She seemed ordinary, but there was a hunger in her eyes that reminded him of the shifters he'd encountered. To her left was a dark-headed girl with streaks in her hair. She looked like she felt maybe just a touch out of place.

On the redhead's right were two girls of the exact same height. They wore the same uniform and the same face. He recognized the face from the photo he'd been shown earlier. One held a bat in her hands and a knowing smile had pulled her lips up. The other wore a less serious expression. Beside them was the last girl in the group. He recognized that face. It wore the same look of annoyance that he'd seen in the other photo. And in real life. Her hair haloed her head, strands of black and blue and purple floating around her face like some kind of twisted marker of an angelic being. As in the other photo, and last night, she was in all black. And one hand was wreathed in fire.

"The X-Men's famed Purple Team. The only all girl team Xavier ever let out into the field," the woman called Grant began. She touched a finger to the first figure, which brought forth a separate picture of the same girl. This time, it was a shot of the girl in normal clothes. "Darkness Sound. Jehnna D'abo. Able to manipulate subsonics and create sonic blasts."

Her finger pressed the girl with the darker skin. This image showed a young woman in a lab coat and glasses, bent over a work table in a lab. "Rosemary Stewart. Roxxy to her friends. Catseye. Able to shift form into that of a mountain lion."

This time, she pressed on the girl in the middle. The image that popped up showed the young woman laughing, surrounded by several other young men and women. "Haley Stone. Icon. Leader of the team. She can turn into a living statue. Incredible strength and durability."

The next image was of one of the twin girls. She wore a low cut blouse and a short mini-skirt. She was idling in a shoe store, trying to decide between a couple of pairs of red high heels. "Morgan Lafavre. Schizoid. She's capable of producing an exact duplicate of herself. Not exactly a strong mutant ability, but it has served her well as an X-Man."

The image melted back into screen even as Grant touched the last girl in the image. The photo that came up was one of her that looked to have been taken for documentation purposes. It was of her face and she looked unhappy. It could have been a mugshot if there'd been an identification number added. "Alasdare Scott. Every mention of her we've found indicates she prefers Dare. She doesn't seem to have a code name. One of the only true pyrokinetics in the world. She is a living, breathing, walking fire. She needs no source or spark to start the fire. This girl, the one you spoke with earlier this evening, is the key to ending the vampire plague."

"You want to use a girl to stop a plague?" he asked, though he didn't need to. He knew exactly what they wanted to do.

"She's the world's only hope. We need to know where to find her." The woman named Grant made it sound like they only wanted to talk to her. He knew better. He knew exactly what they planned on doing. And he might be an asshole, but there was no way he was going to turn a girl over to them so they could use her as their weapon.

"You've got the lying with a smile thing down pat," Edward told her, then rose from his seat. "I've got nothing to give you. Even if I had spoken with that girl earlier tonight, I wouldn't give you any information on her. I know exactly what you intend to do with the girl. Use her powers to save humanity and use her up in the process. She looks like she's a kid. And she shouldn't be forced to fight the things that go bump in the night."

"She's a kid who has been setting fires all around this city with no regard for anyone but herself." This from the third woman. Edward turned his attention her way.

"And you know this how? You asked her? Obviously not. Because if you had, I wouldn't be here." He crossed his arms over his chest, tired of the bullshit, and leveled a look on them. Some of the good old boy persona bled away. "I don't know what agency you're with. I don't care. What I do know is that I've been on the frontlines of the fight since it all came down. I've watched people die at the hands of these things. And I've watched friends and family rise up and fight against them. I've also seen vampires rise up and fight other vampires. Maybe, if you'd been out on the streets a little, you'd know these things."

"Vampires don't fight their own kind," the leader said, sounding very certain of himself.

"Don't they? How many vampires do you know?" He paused and waited for an answer. No one supplied him with one. "That's what I thought. I know vampires who are as sickened by this shit as you are. They want to see it come to an end as much as you do. And, if they could, they'd be out fighting at your side. But the media has spread nothing but lies and fear and now people are afraid of all the vampires. The good ones, and there are good ones, are in hiding because there are anti-vampire militias out there killing anything that looks like it might be undead."

"I don't think you understand..." the third woman began, but Edward lifted a hand and waved it at her, cutting her words off without a care.

"No. You don't understand. There's a war going on out there. Vampires that shouldn't exist do. And they're killing people indiscriminately. Turning people indiscriminately. They don't care about the rules. They don't care about law. They only care about blood and violence. I've seen it. I've been on the front lines since the first attacks. What have you been doing?" He let his gaze slide from one face to the next. No one said anything, though he was sure they were thinking about it. "This war that's happening? Its fueled by lies and propaganda. Innocent people will get killed if you attempt to use a young girl to end your war. She looks no more like a vampire hunter than my great Aunt Gert. Great Aunt Gert is pushing one hundred. You pull that girl, or any other, into this fight, and you're going to get her killed. Find another way."

Edward headed for the door, making sure he let them all know he was doing playing their games. "I'm going to leave now. I'd appreciate it if you made sure to call the front desk or whatever and let them know that I'd like my flame thrower and my gun back. Have a good evening and let's not have this discussion again."

The man in charge sighed and nodded his head. "Quinn. Grant. Go with Mr. Forrester and ensure his property is returned to him. Also ensure that he's escorted off the property."

"Yes, sir," Grant replied and headed for the door behind him.

The two agents waited for him to go before them. He went, letting them flank him as they escorted him to his property and then the door. Edward didn't say anything to them. He didn't have to. He'd made his position perfectly clear. Which meant he was going to have to be careful and keep an eye out for big black government vehicles following after him.

And he was going to have to find out all he could about the girl. When he was done with that, he was going to have to find her and warn her.

~*~*~*~*~

The door to the bathroom was closed, letting him know that Dare was cleaning up. He frowned and stared, trying to figure out how to tackle the subject on his mind. She'd slipped out on him again, and no one had even realized it until meal time rolled around. They'd discovered then that she'd been gone. Tony had called up the map of the city and scanned for the coordinates of the chip he'd implanted under her skin, but he'd gotten nothing. It frustrated him and it frustrated Clint. How could the chip not work? Tony'd been sure that her powers wouldn't interfere with it. But they only got her location half the time.

She was driving him to distraction. Clint wasn't sure how much more of this he could put up with. Every time she went out the door, he worried that he'd never see her again. There were so many things that could go wrong. She could get shot by the police. She could get arrested by the police. She could get killed by a vampire. She could get grabbed by LeBeau. The thought of that sadistic son of a bitch getting his hands on her made Clint's blood run cold. He didn't want to think about what the Cajun might do to Dare if he sank his claws into her.

They had to reach some kind of compromise. Dare couldn't continue to go out on her own. She couldn't continue to fight the vampires on her own. She was going to get caught. Or worse. And he didn't think his heart could take it if something like that happened. It was only because he went to sleep beside her and woke up next to her each day that he continued to resist the call of LeBeau's blood raging in his veins. If he lost her, he'd lose himself.

Somehow, some when, he'd done the idiotic and fallen for the surly young woman. And if he lost her... He didn't know what he'd do.

That was why he needed to talk to her. He needed her to understand that she was what kept him going. He needed her to understand that her loss would be more than he could handle. He needed her to understand that he needed her to be safe. His sanity, possibly his very life, depended upon it.

"You need to quit taking chances!" A voice hissed from the other side of the closed panel. The hand he'd raised to knock on the door stopped in mid-air and a frown spread across his face. Who was she talking to? Who was in the bathroom with her?

"I'm not taking chances. I'm ensuring he knows that he can't hide from me forever." That was Dare's voice, low and filled with the anger he knew had been burning in her veins since LeBeau had taken him.

"You are! You took a chance with that stranger tonight! You came too close to getting caught. This won't work if you get caught!" The other voice sounded angry. And annoyed. It also sounded like Dare. But it didn't. Clint frowned. How was that possible?

"Its going to work. Remy can't hide from me forever. He can't hide from us forever. I will find him and I will end him. He sealed his fate the moment he laid a fang on Clint." There was such hatred in Dare's voice, it was kind of frightening. But there was something else there, some kind of deeper promise, that he didn't dare try to figure out.

"Dare. You have to be careful. If he gets his hands on you, there'll be no place left to go. The world will burn. He'll make you do it." The second voice was softer this time. Clint thought he heard fear in it.

"He won't get his hands on me. I swore I'd end him. I meant it. I will end him. You're worried for nothing," Dare replied. There was silence a moment, and Clint strained his ears to hear something. Tried to listen for anything that would tell him what the hell was going on. But there was nothing to hear. Not even the rustle of cloth. And then the silence was broken by a soft sigh. "I promise. I'll end him. He's taken so much from me already. I don't plan on letting him take any more."

For several long moments, there was nothing from the other side of the door. Then he heard another sigh, this one deeper and longer and filled with emotion. "You're tired, Dare. You should get some sleep. You've been trying too hard to find him. Using too much of your power. You're going to burn out if you don't take some time to rest."

"I can't. There's too much at stake. It isn't just me now. It isn't just Clint. There's Haley. I can't lose her to him," Dare whispered, voice soft and filled with vulnerability.

"Dare. Please," the second voice pleaded.

"I'll rest when he's nothing more than ash. Until then, I'll keep going out and leaving him messages. I will raze the entire fucking city if I have to. I will find him and I will destroy him. For everyone I love and for everyone I lost. He will die."

The second voice said nothing. Clint waited for several moments, but he heard nothing more than the sound of water as Dare turned on the shower. The shower door shut, letting him know that she'd climbed into the shower to rinse the night's fire off her skin and out of her hair. Frowning, he eased the door open and peeked inside. There was no one there but Dare, tucked carefully into the shower as she scrubbed the night from her skin.

He closed the door and moved to sit on the bed. What the hell was going on? Who had she been talking to? She'd obviously been talking to someone. He'd heard a second voice. There had definitely been a second voice. Which wasn't necessarily a good thing. Because it meant one of two things. Either someone with some serious portation abilities was popping in and out of the mansion, and wouldn't it just chap Tony's ass if that was the case?, or Dare had been talking to herself because she was losing her grip on reality.

Neither option was better than the other. If there was someone popping in and out of the mansion undetected, that meant they were sitting ducks. They were unprotected during the day simply because they tended to sleep during the daylight hours. If this unnamed person with porting abilities was letting themself in and out of the mansion at will, it was entirely possible that they could bring someone with them. They could be slaughtered in their sleep. But if it wasn't a stranger, if it was Dare talking to herself, Clint was going to have to find a way to confine her. It would be the only way to keep her safe. She couldn't be allowed to run around the city all alone if she was going crazy. There was no telling what she'd do if someone upset her.

He was still caught up with trying to figure out some way to keep them all safe when the door to the bathroom opened. A cloud of steam escaped into the bedroom, Dare following close on its heels. She hadn't bothered using a towel. She hadn't put on the bathrobe he knew hung on the back of the door. And she hadn't grabbed any clothes on her way into the bathroom. So she came out utterly naked and dewed with droplets of water left over from the shower. Her hair hung long and wet around her shoulders. And she looked so normal.

"Checking up on me, old man?" she asked, letting her gaze slide over him assessingly.

"As a matter of fact," Clint began, giving her his full attention. He looked for some sign of madness, some mark it might have left on her skin. All he could see were the thin, silvery scars left behind by the Wolverine. The paleness of her flesh. The fullness of her breasts. The curve of her hips and the length of her legs. She was beautiful and shapely and his. Desire kicked up in his blood, sending it racing through his veins. His heart pounded with it. It pooled in his groin, as did the blood it filled, firming his cock up within the confines of his jeans. He shouldn't want to throw her down on the bed and fuck her when he was so worried about her. When he didn't know if she was even herself anymore. "I wanted to talk to you about hunting."

She sighed, moving across the room toward him in such a way that her hips rolled. He wasn't sure if she was doing it on purpose or if it was just how she moved. He should have noticed that before. "I know you're worried, old man. But I promise you. He won't grab me. He can't touch me. And there's too much waiting for me here for me to be too reckless where he's concerned."

"I'm starting to wonder at that, Dare." He let some of the uncertainty fill his words.

She blinked at him a moment before settling herself into his lap. It was torture to have her soft curves pressing to enticingly against his hard ridges. "You don't think I have feelings for you?" she asked him.

"We haven't discussed it. I know you're still mourning Logan and I'm okay with that. But you risked your life to rescue me. It makes me think there's more between us than just sex. And now you're so focused on revenge that it leaves me wondering if you really do care."

"Oh, Clint," she said quietly. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize." She slid off his lap, settling on the mattress beside him, and reached out to take hold of his hand. Her touch was gentle, fingers tracing the lines that crossed his palm that calluses that had formed on his fingers from years of handling a bow. "I don't just fall into bed with anyone, Clint. I never have. I don't have sex to have sex."

"I don't think I understand," he admitted. She turned a faint smile up at him, then reached up and turned his face more fully toward her so she could press a tender kiss to his lips.

"There have to be feelings, Clint. I have to have feelings for someone before I can climb into bed with them. Its always been that way. And that's why I've only ever had five lovers."

"Logan?" he asked, even though he knew it was pointless.

"I loved him. I don't know when it happened, but I loved him. Which was weird because he scared me at first," she told him. There was a pained wistfulness in her voice that said it still hurt her to think of him. He suspected it always would because she'd been the cause of his death.

"LeBeau?"

"Remy was the first man I was with," she explained, Her gaze unfocused a moment before coming back to him and he could see that she'd come to some kind of decision. "Remy was the first man I was with that didn't hurt me. There was a boy in school that I thought I was crazy about, but I was a freak even then and his friends bet him and he asked me out, which was cool until we ended up at a motel. Then he... wouldn't listen when I said no and..." she trailed off, gaze flicking away from him.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered. He pulled her into his arms and held her close, offering her his strength when she so obviously needed it. She wound her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. She let him hold her for a long time before finally pulling away.

"The thing with Remy was weird. It was like this whirlwind romance that... I don't know. I don't know what it was. Maybe it started as a school girl crush. I mean, everyone at the school was crushing on Remy. He found me in the wine cellar one night after I'd had a bad training session with Logan. He'd just had a rough go with Rogue and had split with her. He took me out to play pool. Bought me drinks. It loosened my tongue and when I asked him about it, we went to a hotel and got a room."

"But you loved him."

"Still do, in a way. At least, I still love the old Remy. A Remy that doesn't exist anymore," she told him. There was regret in her words, as if she was sorry for hurting him. He slid an arm around her shoulder and tugged her up against him, pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"That's two," he prodded. This was the most she'd ever talked about herself and he was loathe to see it come to an end before he learned more. Dare never liked talking about herself.

"After... that boy hurt me, I ran away from home. I didn't think I had any choice. He'd hurt me and laughed in my face and I lost my temper. Lost control of the flames. Set the whole motel on fire. I know people got hurt. I had to run before the cops found me. I ended up on the streets. Until a the leader of a gang found me and took me in. Misty took me under her wing. She treated me like a princess. But a rival gang raided our place one night and killed people. Killed Misty. That ended with a fire."

Each sentence came with more sadness. He hadn't meant to put her on this path. He'd only meant to understand. "You don't have to go on, Dare."

"I ended up at Xavier's after that fire. The girl who had been my best friend when we were kids was there and she convinced the professor to look for me. When I first got to the school, Morgan was the only one I could stand to let touch me. Until Remy." She paused and glanced away from him a moment. When she turned back, her eyes were soft. "And now there's you. I probably shouldn't have let it happen. Everyone I've ever loved is gone. But--"

Clint halted her words with the press of his lips on hers. She twined her arms around him, pressing herself closer to his body. His erection, which had started flagging when they'd gotten involved in their conversation, came roaring back to life with the feel of her lips under his. Her breasts pressed against his side. Her hands in his hair. He moaned, twisted in her hold, and took her down to the mattress.

She welcomed him with open arms and legs, her body soft and pliant beneath his. Wet and welcoming. Clint didn't even bother with taking his clothes off. He just opened the fly of his jeans, tugged his erection free, and pressed it into her body. Dare arched and moaned and sighed beneath him. Begged with sweet words and sweeter kisses. Touched him as if he the only thing that kept her anchored to the world.

He fucked her and made love to her and fucked her some more. Made her cry out with need and completion. When he came, he made sure he buried himself as deep inside of her as he possibly could and he muttered words of love and devotion in her ear as she drifted off to sleep in his hold. She looked so sweet and innocent wrapped in his arms. So normal. So unlike a woman who might be losing her mind.

Clint rolled off her, pulling her into his hold after he'd settled on the mattress. He listened to the soft sound of her breathing and felt the gentle thump of her heart against her chest. It all seemed so normal.

It left him wondering just what the fuck was going on.