The Scarred Huntress

Getting To Know Each Other

"Miss," he says after eyeing Icar, "is this young man troubling you?"

"No." Icar answers before I can. "In fact, we were just about to get breakfast, then fuck."

"I was asking the lady, young man." The officer steps forward, pulling out his taser. Icar eyes the weapon, then the man's serious face, then bursts out laughing.

Icar drags me to him. I try to break free, but his grip is too strong. Eventually, he lets me go. So soon? I see why immediately. The officer had caught my other hand, and when Icar finally released me, he took that opportunity to stand up to Icar, whose face is stripped of humor and emotion. Icar doesn't regard the officer. His gaze is locked on where the man touched me. His eyes flash, and I squeeze his hand before he does what he's thinking. His eyes meet mine, and I shake my head. He reconsiders, and I hug him in relief, my heart beating fast.

"Run to your wife, old man." Icar's voice rumbles against my body. "She just saved your life."

I feel Icar tense, and I hold him tighter. I even nuzzle his chest with the side of my face. I gasp when he gropes my ass. I redden against him while praying for the officer to leave us alone.

I hear his frantic heartbeat recede along with his steps.

That is when I pull away from Icar. His eyes are still away from me, trailing the old man as he goes back to his post.

I pinch his thigh.

Icar catches my wrist, where the officer grabbed me, and licks it in front of everyone watching. Another round of heat prickles my cheeks. Seemingly satisfied, he holds my hand and continues walking like nothing happened. I can only stick close to him as we leave the immigration center. Icar's hold on me tightens as we venture deeper into the open crowd. I usually get stares walking in the midst of so many men. Icarus Morvan is the reason the men I pass can barely look at me.

"I want to gouge out their eyes," he tells me, and something melts inside of me.

"Where are we going to stay?" I try to change the topic.

"That's a problem for later," he says, leading me inside a fast food restaurant.

The place isn't high-end, but it's not dilapidated either. It's cozy and small, with sparse decorations and fewer patrons at the moment.

"Two burgers," Icar tells the middle-aged waitress. "Extra meaty."

She nods and presses her spatula against something delicious cooking in the oil. Icar leads me to a secluded booth before my wolf can go on a rampage.

The waitress comes back some minutes later with our orders. I reach for mine. Icar catches my hand and restrains me on my seat. I want to break out of his hold, but I know how stubborn he is, and I don't want to topple the food over.

He picks up a hamburger and brings it near my mouth. I just stare at him. He nudges it closer, and I keep my mouth closed while the side of my face twitches.

With my free hand, I grab the burger he's holding and clamp savagely, making sure to get his fingers too. Hot, spicy flavors dance in my mouth. Icar's pained cry is music to my ears. He leaves me my hamburger, and I devour it completely. He gapes at me, and I reach for his hamburger and devour it too.

My stomach fills up, and my cheeks expand as I gobble the bun and meat while licking my fingers.

Icar watches me in utter fascination before a wide grin stretches his face.

"Hey," he calls the waiter. "Bring more!"

The waiter wastes no time with our order, and soon a hilltop of garnished grilled meat and a chilled carton of yogurt sits before me.

"Finish this before I'm back." He says while adjusting the stolen cap on his head.

"Where are you going?"

"To make some calls."

I watch him leave, and when the door closes after him, I dive into my meal with gusto.

---

I step out of the restaurant with Icar. Satiated and drowsy. I lean against him. Evening approaches.

"I can carry you," he says.

"I can walk," I grumble.

He chuckles.

A loud rev fills the air, and my senses snap alert.

A grey Camry parks in front of us, and a man clad in a jacket and jeans steps down. The rim of his baseball hat hides his eyes. He approaches us.

Icar puts me behind him.

"It's me, boss," the man says before Icar can jump him, taking off his hat.

Wait... boss?

"Dexter," Icar says. "Hope everything is intact?"

"Yes boss." Dexter c***s his head. "Who is she?"

"None of your business. The keys."

Dexter tosses them to Icar without another word. Icar catches them without moving.

Another car revs into the restaurant's parking lot.

"Safe journey." Dexter bows to Icar and heads to the new car that just arrived. He enters the passenger seat, and it drives off.

Leaving us with the dull vehicle.

Come on. Icar nudges me, and we both head to the car. I close the front passenger door while he buckles his seatbelt behind the steering wheel.

My seatbelt clicks, and I sit upright in my seat. The first time I entered a car was the last time because I died.

"Relax." Icar squeezes my hand, and I look at him. His nod is reassuring. I find myself not wanting him to let go. He doesn't, and I gradually relax as the drive goes on.

The road remains empty and deserted for a really long period.

"We're still on the edge of town," Icar explains as we blast past a speed limit sign. "Marseille. Population you and me. As the only werewolves, of course."

The silence that follows is heavy. My eyes remain on the road.

"How long before they find us?"

"Depends on how well we cover our tracks. And how well they search."

I look at him. "That human. Who is he?"

"An old friend."

I'd deduced that Dexter appearing was a result of the call Icar excused himself to make back at the restaurant. But still, he's being too vague.

"How long have you been planning to escape?"

A shadow flickers across his face.

"I wasn't. My escape plan was a backup to my initial plan." He glances at me. It's enough to land the accusation.

"I should've let them hang you."

"And I would have blown your mind."

Irritation wells up inside of me, but I tamp it down and look out the window. We're moving so fast the trees merge into one another.

"Do you regret it?" Icar finally asks. "Killing those people so I could be free?"

No.

The word lands in a heartbeat, but I don't say it aloud. I remain quiet, and so does he, for the rest of the drive.