You might wonder how a good Christian girl like me, ended up married to a monster. Trust me the story would blow your mind. My husbands name is Victor Creed: one of the deadliest, savage, bloodthirsty mutants alive (whose job is to kill people, great I know) , and I love him with all my heart. I know, don't worry I know I'm crazy but here is our story.

Chapter 1

Alberta, Canada

It had been a normal morning. I was up early to cook breakfast, my mutant husband like all men was still trying to drag his butt out of bed before work, and today I had a date with a grocery store list as long as my sins.

I was still trying for figure out how I was going to pay for Victor's large appetite with our meager paycheck, so I didn't perceive my husbands uncannily stealthy for a man his size, entrance to the room.

He had me by the waist before I could protest- not that I would. He sat me on the counter, used one hand to take the spatula from mine, that a minute ago had been stirring eggs with, and the other to pull my head towards his eager lips. His mouth was making me reconsider breakfast as I slid my legs up to lock securely around his waist.

Then his lips was gone. Reeling forward I caught myself against the counter. His fully extended claws gripped the counter like a vise, as a howl of rage escaped through his barred teeth, fangs glistening in the morning light. His back was arched in what looked like pain.

But what had hurt him? It definitely wasn't me, and with his healing mutation he would just heal from it, anything from a scratch to a bomb. Speculative I looked down at him on the kitchen linoleum as he crouched on all fours; about to ask him what in the world he was doing when I felt a whiff of cool air. It was breath like against my face, a kiss of sorts and then pain, searing pain. My calf burned like it had been stabbed with a needle, the size of spatula next to me. My scream of pain was cut short by Victor's mammoth hand encompassing my face as he wrenched me violently to the hard tile. As my eyes welled up and overflowed with tears, he grabbed my shoulders, shaking me.

" Kate! Listen to me Kate! Remember what I taught you?" His eyes were burning from within as he held my gaze.

" Do exactly what I taught you and nothing more, wait in the safe hut till I get you and let no one in except me! NO ONE! " He ordered fiercely.

Turning around he rifled through one of the kitchen cabinets fabricating a 12 gage shot gun and switchblade. Grinning like a magician who had just pulled the rabbit of the hat, he handed them to me.

" I wish I could given you a few more lessons, but with this baby all you need to do is aim and sho0t. Don't worry I'll take care of them though; you won't need to use it. " His eyes were wide and anxious for the blood spilling to begin.

Reaching around he slide the blade in my back pocket. Dumbstruck with fear and pain, all I could do was stare blindly in front of me, and as my eyes focused I perceived a small hole in my husbands shirt. Though it seemed trivial I reached out to press my finger through it, feeling his hard hairy chest on the other side. While fingering the hole, realization hit me like a blow. My hands shook as I pressed against Victor's chest to reassure myself that he strong heart was still pumping.

He had been shot! I had been shot!

" Victor," My voice, but a whisper was laden with worry and terror. Taking my hand from his chest he pressed the cold gun to it. His mahogany eyes were hooded and his exposed overlarge canines gleamed ivory in the light. Like chocolate and cream they melded together in my tear-clogged eyes.

" Don't worry about me, save your worry for the dead men out there. Now get, and don't forget, go straight to the safe house!" He ordered harshly as he rose to his feet. His movements were lithe as an animal as he yanked me up and shoved me towards the back door.

" Go!" He yelled to me, his back turned, as he eagerly vaulted out of the front door, anticipating the carnage he would inflict.

It had only been less than a minute ago that we had been kissing on the counter, a normal day. But it was over. They had found us. It didn't matter who particularly: my past, the army wanting Victors DNA, or one of Victors many enemies, but it didn't matter who, just that they had found us.

No more anything, we would have to start over anew again. Even if Victor killed all of them, and I'm sure he would, they still knew we we're here. Dragging my mind away from all the pain I focused on getting to the underground hatch Victor had dug out for me, for just such a time as this.

Limping from the pain in my calf, weighed down by they enormous gun and mind wheeling, I traversed the short path to safety. The chilly morning air clung to my bare shoulders like an unwelcome blanket, as I shuffled the last few feet. I flung the hatch open, as man with gold fever would hack into a vein of pure gold.

The cool damp aroma of earth and vegetables pervaded my sense, up until now it was our garden cellar of sorts. Barring the latch behind me, I stood silent in the dark earth, letting my eyes adjust. My ears pricked up as I hear a shuffling sound in the back, I was not a fan of rodents so I began to grope around for the kerosene lamp. But before my hands found the lamp, sterile white light filled the small hovel, blinding me motionless. With my hand shielding my sensitive eyes, I dazedly peered between my cracked fingers. The face that I saw in font of me was a coalition of all my childhood memories. His face had been etched into my heart with the chisel of hours spend together in friendship. The memories seemed crushing with their amount and emotion: times swinging together, laughing at stupid jokes, being annoying and downright terrible to all our teachers and just being plain ridiculous.

" Steven," Was all I could whisper in my delight and confusion.

My eyes were glued to his face, so very the same but also molded by time; a movement by his waist only broke my train of sight. As my eyes focused on the source of the movement, I realized something peculiar, Steven was holding a gun just like I was. Why was Steven holding a gun and more importantly, why was he pointing the muzzle at me? The question was forming on my lips as a force liken to baseball swing, dropped me to the ground.

The last thing I saw before the sweet painless darkness came over me, was Stevens wide blue eyes over me, though I was more intent on how to stop Victor from killing Steven. Oh crap.