Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Mine

By: human28

He idly watched the contents of his glass swirl around the container as he tilted it in different directions. The golden liquid bubbled gently and enticed him to take another sip. Really now, how many glasses does it take to get a transgenic drunk? He asked himself. An unwelcome voice answered matter-of-factly in his head: Transgenics don't get drunk. You could drink ninety-nine bottles of beer and the worst is be little tipsy. Take it from me, I know.

He snuck a glance behind him to match the voice with it's owner, whom he knew, was in the bar as well. Just as he expected, she was sitting near the back of Crash with that guy…Ralph, Raymond, or whatever his name was…he didn't really care. All he cared about was her.

The damningly beautiful woman who crept into his head late at night and turned his dreams into fantasies he craved would become a reality…who would sneak into his nightmares and make everything all right…

And here she was, hanging out with that Raymond guy.

He's not even her type. He thought sourly.

Just when she finally, officially called the quits with her last boyfriend…her 'we're-not-like-that-boyfriend'…

Just when he thought he'd finally have a chance…

She starts getting all flirty, and giggly with that jackass.

He watched as Ralph leaned towards her and whispered something in her ear.

He watched as she smiled.

He scowled.

The predator side of him was screaming for bloody murder…

The human side of him wanted to grab his bottle of beer and wallow with self-pity somewhere in the dark…

While the stealthy side of him came up with a brilliant idea.

He grinned evilly.

Watch out, the tiger's out of his cage.

…

"Evening ladies."

The deep masculine voice that interrupted their conversation made her look up.

She glared at the owner of the voice. Ignoring her death glare, he seated himself comfortably on the empty seat in front of her and smiled charmingly at her. Unfortunately for him, it had no effect on her whatsoever.

She eyed him suspiciously. There was a mischievous glint in his hazel-green eyes that she did not particularly like. That usually meant he was up to no good. His eyes collided with hers and he winked. "So Maxie, why don't you introduce me to your new friend?"

"Ass," she hissed at him under her breath and plastered a fake smile on her face. "Alec this is Rafer, Rafer, Alec."

"Nice to meet you man," Rafer offered his hand which Alec firmly shook. Max saw Rafer wince at Alec's particularly strong handshake. "Some grip you got there dude." Rafer grinned.

"It's in the genes." Again, Alec winked at her.

She merely scowled at him. Rafer had no idea that she was a transgenic, and she planned on keeping it that way. Sure, he was a sweet guy, cute and funny. But that didn't mean she trusted him one hundred percent. Not like the way she completely trusted Logan – or even Alec, who was pissing her off right now.

"So Rafer, did Max ever tell you about the time she worked at the Blowfish Tavern?"

Max clenched and unclenched her fists as she seethed behind her bottle of beer.

Rafer frowned. "Isn't that a strip club?"

"Yeah, in fact I was her first customer." Alec grinned broadly at her.

Max started to see red.

"She gives a hell of a lapdance."

Rafer's eyes widened.

That's it. Max thought and kicked Alec under the table – aiming straight for the jackpot.

Unfortunately for her, Alec caught her foot just in time – and it seemed that he had no intention of releasing it anytime soon. Luckily, Rafer didn't seem to notice anything. Still holding onto her foot, Alec quickly changed the subject.

"So Rafer what do you do?"

Max barely heard her date answer, because the next thing she knew Alec had taken off her boot and was gently massaging her foot.

Oh.

That feels good.

His hands started to travel up her denim-clad legs.

Max sunk lower in her seat.

Rafer just went on babbling about his job – whatever that was – Max already forgot.

All she could focus on was how good Alec's hands felt on her legs.

They went up.

And down.

Up.

And down.

Slowly.

Seductively.

Oh fuck.

This was going to be a long night.

…

The night finally ended.

And Rafer, finally noticing the heated looks his two companions were throwing at each other, had made up some excuse of having to walk his dog, and left Crash in a hurry.

Who the hell walked their dog in the middle of the night?

Whatever.

She didn't really care.

All she cared about was the incredibly sexy tiger sitting in front of her.

"Let's get out of here, shall we?" his voice was low and husky, and his hazel-green eyes were nothing more than liquid pools of desire.

She licked her lips. "My place or yours?"

"Mine."

You're finally mine.

The End

A/N: Alright, I really don't know much about Rafer. He was just the first I guy I thought of to put in the fic...so..anyways...Review and tell me what you think:-)