And I don't think I can look at this the same
But all the miles that separate
Disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face
I'm here without you baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
Sitting in a dark hotel room nursing a bottle of whiskey was not at all how Logan had intended to spend his evening. In fact, he had hoped by now to be balls deep in a woman with no thought of anything but that blissful moment of release. Instead, all his traitorous mind could think of was the snow capped vixen he had left behind and his body only strummed to life when remembering the feel of her beneath his hands.
He tossed his head back, gulping the burning amber liquid in a vain attempt to blur his memories. Over five months and he hadn’t been able to ‘perform’ with anyone else. He’d tried--countless times-- but each attempt all came to the same end. A chill smile and a walk out the door.
In his darkened motel room he snorted derisively at himself. It was damn laughable the state he put himself in. His equipment functioned just fine. Erections were easy, but he just couldn’t follow through. It felt--wrong. No one smelled like her, tasted like her, said his name in that throaty way like her.
He gave his stirring to life crotch a glare. With a savage grunt he shifted position, unzipping his pants. He’s rub one out, go to bed, and once more try and forget…
He grit his teeth as his hand closed around his erection and closed his eyes. His head dropped back against the wall, hand working up and down, tugging and squeezing in time to the remembered thrusts he had shared with Storm. His breaths were ragged, forced past barely parted lips.
It was damn near comically funny that a real flesh and blood woman didn’t turn him on half so much as a memory of a fleeting one night stand. He groaned, remembering vividly the way she had tasted on his tongue, the way her slick heat had enveloped him, wrapped around him, pulled him deep.
His fisted hand increased pace, his lip curling as orgasm approached. Tendons stood out as he spurted his seed into emptiness, his hips rising off the mattress as a broken growl of a name passed his throat. “’Ro.”
Words. Male voice. Static. Walkie-talkie.
Ororo held back a groan, slowly regaining consciousness, but keeping her eyes closed so not to give herself away. Rain still spattered against the windshields of her Civic and she could feel the thrum of tires beneath her head, but no light of any kind filtered past her lids. Night?
“Our ETA is four minutes.”
ETA? Where was she? How long had she been out? Damn it, she had no time to ask herself unanswerable questions, she needed to get out of the car and away from these psychos and fast.
“Yes, sir. I’ve read her file repeatedly. I am well aware of her capabilities. I’ve studied her extensively. If she tries anything she will go down hard. No, sir, she is still tranqed.”
So this idiot thought he knew her, huh? Well, one thing that wasn’t in any damn file was her determination to protect her child from these assholes. This man wasn’t taking her down, and he sure as hell wasn’t taking her baby.
Concentrating, she blocked out everything but the sound of the rain. As groggy as she was, getting control of the elements took far more effort than normal. She heard the pitter patter droplets take on a harder quality, smacking the windshield.
There was movement from the driver’s seat and she knew the soldier was looking at her so she kept her face and body placid. Let him assume the weather was natural…please…
When he made no move on her she drew a dense fog slowly around them.
The car began slowing. “You’d best not be trying anything.” She felt a hand on her leg, the grip hard in warning. One hand on her leg--one on the wheel…meant no weapon readily in his grasp. She chose that moment to strike. She sat upright, driving the hell of her palm straight into the soldier’s chest, using every ounce of strength she could muster.
“Damn it!” The soldier swore as the car swerved violently on the slick pavement, the reflexive jerk of his arm causing it to spin out of control.
Praying to whatever God would listen Ororo grappled for the handle, throwing herself backwards out of the careening car. She let herself go limp, keeping her arms cradled over her middle, rolling across the ground. “Sorry, sweetie,” she said as she scrambled to her feet, slipping in the mud. “Mommy didn’t have a choice.”
The car squealed to a halt and she heard the door open, the driver hollering. “This isn’t over! When they get you, you’ll wish you were dead!”
Ororo ignored the taunting call, and instead she took off at a dead run, gaining speed, calling her winds to her. She had no idea how long she’d traveled, or even where she was, but she knew exactly where she had to go. Her feet left the ground just as a second set of headlights found her through the fog. She spotted the snarling face of Victor Creed in the truck bed and had the satisfaction of knowing she had bested him--again.
Her triumph was short lived however as the feral leapt onto the truck’s roof and launched himself into the air from a crouch. He was alarmingly fast, giving her little time to react. A large hand grabbed her hair, yanking her down.
She grunted as they hit the ground, her landing heavily on top of him.
“I’m running out of patience with you,” he snarled.
She didn’t waste time on words. She jammed her elbow into his larynx, followed by her forehead to his nose. He yowled, grip loosening enough for her to scramble back away from him. “Stay away from me!” she warned the three other men surrounding her. Her eyes began to glow in the dark, giving them pause.
Creed lunged to his feet, landing in a catlike crouch position. He struck out hard, using his fist. She tried ineffectually to dodge it, taking a hit just below her eye. She felt the skin tear and knew blood was drizzling down her cheek. She lost her footing, slipping on the pavement, dizzy from the blow to her head.
Creed was on her in less than a second, pinning her down, hand curled around her throat.
Ororo went absolutely still. He was incredibly strong and the more she struggled the tighter his fingers dug in. She placed her arms around her middle, protecting her baby her only concern.
“I don’t wanna kill you, frail. They want you back at the lab, but you’re really pissin’ me off.” He brushed her mud splattered hair from her face, fingers incidentally touching the bloody welt she had beneath her eye.
She flinched away from him, her mind trying desperately to formulate another escape plan. A horn blared, drawing the small group’s attention. All eyes turned towards the Mac truck barreling down on them, the release of air brakes sounded deafening in the fog, the truck jack knifing, unable to stop due to the limited visibility.
“Sonofa--”
Ororo kicked out with everything she had, wresting herself free. She rolled down the embankment just as the grill of the Mac slammed into the rear end of the military truck, sparks and glass flying.
She knew without looking that Creed would be giving her chase so she didn’t hesitate, she ran. Her heart pounded a frantic tattoo, she hoped the driver of the big rig would be unharmed, but deep down she knew he was as good as dead.
She leapt high, soaring into the air, sending a pelting rain of hail down behind her, just in case Creed tried another leaping attack. There was none. She was free--for now.
Logan admired the wild scenery as he took his bike higher and higher up the mountain. At times the road was more pits and gravel than road, only wide enough for one vehicle, but that was fine; only one vehicle ever traveled up here.
He enjoyed the land, the wilderness was his home; his comfort. He was a throwback to earlier times, a man of simple means, and one that could easily live off the land--in fact preferred to. He enjoyed coming to his cabin, a place he could just disappear. No teams, no missions, no trouble. Maybe up here he could clear his head of all the bullshit clouding it lately.
If he could just breathe the mountain air, cleanse himself of everything, then maybe, just maybe he could sleep a full night without waking up aching. Not for his forgotten past, but fro an all to well remembered woman. He cursed, his mind already wandering to wonder where she was and what was she doing. His fingers curled around the gas, throttling forward. The sooner he was at the cabin the better.
Four days later
A sound.
He had been laying in his bed for the better part of the past hour, unable to sleep when he caught a noise that didn’t belong.
One out of place with the normal night noises he was used to.
Logan rolled over in his bed, laying still for a moment, fully alert, senses seeking out the disturbance. A rustle of leaves on the wind, only there hadn’t been any wind a moment ago.
He rose from the bed in complete silence. Still listening, he pulled on his jeans and shirt. He padded his way through his cabin unerringly, one long, razor sharp claw slowly locking into place.
He eased his way out the front door, moving into the night with silent, stealthy, predator movements. He was a shadow among shadows, impossible to discern amidst the night landscape.
Motion on his right drew his gleaming gaze. He moved with purpose, striking hard and fast, a hard tackle that took the intruder down to the ground. The figure beneath him huffed as the wind was knocked from their lungs, as they did he caught her scent. It couldn’t be… As if in confirmation her voice sounded, gruff and irritated.
“Get the hell off of me.”
“’Ro? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you tryin’ to get yourself killed,” he swore.
She rolled to her side, eyes snapping white fire. “No, in fact I am doing everything I can to avoid that little consequence.” She glared. “Which is why I came up here.”
He shook his head, nearly disbelieving and more than a bit pissed off at her arrival. “How the fuck did you find me?”
“I wasn’t exactly looking for you,” she clarified. “You told me about this place, dumbass. I need a place to lay low.” She pushed her hair from her face, puffing away at a stubborn strand.
Logan stared at her. She was everything he remembered and more. He’d filled way too many nights with the memory of the way she felt against him, the smoothness of her skin, her body surrounding his, the fierce need he had to possess her. He shook off the rising need to grab her.
He surveyed her with calculating eyes. Her hair was longer, curling around her ears and brushing her shoulders. Still as soft and as inviting as he remembered and his fingers twitched with the urge to bury themselves in the satin layers. Her eyes, slightly curved upwards, were the same inviting chocolate he remembered, fringed with dark lashes. She was looking at him now with a curious mixture of expectation and fear.
He cocked his head, appraising. He caught why he hadn’t recognized her at first. Her scent, though still appealing, was subtly different. More feminine, somehow. Distracted by that thought, he recalled the way their scents smelled mixed together--powerful and right.
Damn. He was getting hard again. She was too young, to much of a liability for a man like him. He did her a favor walking away once, he just wasn’t sure he could do it again. She was too good for him. She deserved a life, a marriage and eventually a family. Things he would never--could never--give her.
“So, can I stay?” she prompted.
“What the hell did you get mixed up in?” he spat out, trying to remain indifferent despite his wayward thoughts. “Just because we fucked once doesn’t mean I owe you anything. Much less a place to stay.”
Fierce anger clouded her face. The slap was loud, reverberating in the stillness. “Fuck you.”
He moved so fast it was a blur, pinning her to the ground, leaning over her, a snarl curling his sensual lips. His fingers dug into her arms as if he wanted to shake her senseless. His body blanketed hers, falling into her curves and hollows, instinctually imprinting itself on her. Mate. “You forgettin‘ who you‘re dealin‘ with, darlin‘?” he growled.
“No. You seem to be forgetting who you’re dealing with. Now get off of me, you bastard, before I fry you.” Her eyes sparked in emphasis. There was a definite threat in her tone.
Deep down he admired that about her.
As he lay against her the shadows shifted, moonlight fully revealing her face. “Who hit you?” he demanded angrily.
She looked stricken. “Get up.”
“Who the hell hit you?”
“Logan, seriously, get up. I’m going to be sick.”
Her voice was low; strained. She was obviously about to be ill. He scooted back his hand skimming her middle to help her up…and pausing. He knew her body, he had memorized it. He had obsessed about it. The feel of her was different…the scent of her different…. The air rushed from his lungs. Where smooth flat abs had been a soft curve resided. Unwelcome knowledge flooded his brain, making him fling himself away from her as if she’d spontaneously burst into flames.
“You’re pregnant!” he accused.
Instead of answering Ororo rolled onto all fours and threw up violently. She shook with it, her stomach heaving. Reluctantly Logan moved forward, reaching around to pull her hair from her face, holding it at her nape. “Easy, darlin’. Deep breaths.”
She made an inarticulate gurgle, the remnants of her small dinner emptying onto the grass in front of her. She tried to limply shoo him away, but he held fast, holding her upright when she would have collapsed.
Pregnant. Logan’s mind whirred in a hazy fury. She was pregnant. She had let another man touch her. Kiss her. Hold her. Be inside her. How could she? How could she sleep with another man when she belonged to him? There had been no other women for him--he didn’t know if there ever would be. He bit back a vile curse, trying to restrain his rage. He muttered again, “Fuckin’ pregnant.”
Ororo wiped her mouth, getting to her feet. “I can see you’re thrilled with the news.”
She sounded angry, hurt--rejected. He stared at her.
“I would have told you right away,” she continued, “but it’s not like I knew where the hell you were. I came up here because this was the only safe place I could think of under the circumstances.”
Logan swallowed, expectation rising. “What circumstances?”
“Weapon X wants our baby. They’ve already come after me once. I think they’ll try again. I had nowhere else to go. This has already hurt people I cared about.” Becca’s lifeless face rose up in her mind. She shook it away. She met his eyes, hers glinting with determination. “They aren’t taking this baby from me. No one is.”
Logan didn’t reply, his mind was still stuck back on ’our baby’. The way she said it, with such conviction, with a hint of warmth. He stepped towards her, his hand covering the soft swell of her stomach. His child lay there, nestled inside her. “You want the kid?”
Ororo’s chin dimpled with repressed emotion. “More than anything.”
Something shifted in him. She wanted his baby. Actually wanted it. His hard resolve was already melting. He tugged her towards him. She resisted, he insisted. In the end he won.
Ororo was very still, waiting for something, not sure what. Logan turned her in his arms so that her back was to his chest, his hands cupping her belly. “No one will take our baby from us,” he told her.
She sagged against him, relief making her knees weak. She hadn’t known how he would take the news, nor had she realized just how tense she was waiting for his response.
“Let’s get you inside.” Logan took her hand, leading the way.
Once inside the cabin Logan turned on the kettle, pulled out some mugs, grabbed a blanket and settled her on the sofa. “Now, who hit you?” he asked again.
She blinked. “I fail to see how that matters right now.”
“Who?”
“Creed.”
“Sonofabitch!” Logan growled.
“They came after me. Drugged me. Tried to get me to some lab.” She shivered despite the warm wool blanket over her shoulders.
Logan’s hands fisted. “You had to fight them?”
“Yeah.”
He looked ready to kill. “And the baby’s fine?”
“Seems to be,” she assured him.
“Fuck, ‘Ro. You should never have been on your own.”
She gave him an incredulous look. “It’s not like I had a lot of options. I don’t need any lectures from you. I’ve been protecting this baby from day one. You ran off after we fucked, remember? Not me.”
Logan winced as his own words were thrown in his face.
“Let’s get one thing perfectly straight while we’re at it. I’ll accept your help, but not your dictatorship. We clear?”
He barely repressed his smirk. “Maybe,” he conceded.
She rolled her eyes, wincing at the pain in her temples.
“Headache?” he sat beside her.
“Yeah. Tired mostly.”
His fingers touched her head gently, rubbing small circles. “You bring any luggage?”
“No.” she sighed. “No chance to do much of anything but run. Didn’t dare go back to my place. Used my money to eat.”
He scowled, hating that she had to endure that on her own. “I’ll grab you a tee shirt.”
“Thanks.” She shifted as he rose, settling against the cushions.
Logan returned to the sitting area less than a minute later to find Ororo sound asleep. He covered her more fully, taking a seat in the recliner opposite the couch. He watched the up and down rise of her chest, his gaze lingering on her fuller breasts before sweeping down to her belly. “I suppose I should thank you for those,” he commented. His throat tightened. He had a child… he had a family.
He was surprised by the one thought that pounded into his brain over and over: He wasn’t letting them go.
