Pietro leaned further into his Benz’s leather seat and exhaled gustily. He watched the slow trickle of men and women in sharp, dark suits and heavy coats exiting the firm. When he checked his Rolex, he saw it was five-fifteen.
The old man didn’t strike him as the type to work late. From his rumpled demeanor as he materialized in Ororo’s kitchen, Pietro knew why he’d want to make it home on time.
Pietro didn’t even know why he was here or what he had to see, but he was still drawn to that lot of his old building on that side of town. He had to know.
What was it about this fucker that made his company want Logan back, instead of someone like him, who was younger, sharper and worth their investment?
“Any time now, Prince Charming,” he grumbled. Absently he toyed with his radio knob, finding nothing that appealed to him. Pietro fed a CD into the tray and pressed play instead, letting the music feed his senses. Enigma. Once upon a time, his music of choice to fuck to.
It could be again.
He was so lost in thought, focusing so hard on the door that lead to the parking garage that he almost missed the stocky, stern figure lumbering from the elevator.
It was him.
This wasn’t the rumpled man who looked like he rolled out of Ororo’s bed. There was something captivating in his face, like a snake charming its prey. He seemed to move in slow motion with a rolling gait that silenced his footsteps, even on the concrete. He seemed to absorb the echo around himself. Pietro’s silver eyes followed his movements as he dug his car keys from the pocket of his long, black trenchcoat. The garment should have swallowed him up, given his lack of height.
The tails of the coat fanned out behind him like a shroud. He tossed the keys in the air and caught the one he wanted between his fingers, a trick that was so habitual it took no thought.
Anticipation churned in Pietro’s gut. His seatbelt was already undone; he let himself out of his Benz almost in sync with the punch of the keys in the lock.
He watched Logan pause in his task, his back turned to Pietro. He could have sworn he saw him bristle. They were several parking spaces apart.
The slam of the car door and brief beep of the car alarm being set raised Logan’s hackles. Wrinkling his nose, he sniffed.
Mother.
Fucker.
“Long day at the office?”
*
“Quit putting it off. Dinner. My place.”
“You want to grill him.”
“Yes. I do.”
“I don’t have room in my calendar.”
“Wimp.”
“Al…”
“Remy will be here. They can talk sports. Eat. Maybe have a beer.”
“You promise?”
“Then I can grill him.”
“Don’t be hard on him.” A pause. “He’s had a rough couple of weeks.”
“Don’t make excuses for him. If you’re hiding something about him from me, that tells me there’s something wrong with him. Or between the two of you.”
Ororo bit her lip. Shit.
“Ororo?”
Ororo sank onto one of her kitchen stools and leaned over the counter, tugging on a tendril of her hair.
Silence.
“Cat got your tongue?”
“Ali…there’s nothing bad between us. I care about him.”
“Really.” She sounded skeptical.
“No.” She expelled a breath. “I love him. Heaven help me, Ali, I love Logan.”
“No way.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No. Uh-uh. Not like you loved Forge.”
“Bullshit.”
“You were with him a lot longer before you fell in love with him. Love isn’t like they say it is in the story books. Look at me and Remy.”
“No. You were just in denial. Remy was in love with you forever before you finally woke up. And I write the story books. I don’t just pull it out of thin air.” Ororo sat up straight on the stool.
“I still feel like you’re hiding something.”
“I’m not.”
“Fine. But you’re different.”
“After everything that’s happened lately, I ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie.” It was one of Logan’s favorite phrases. “He’s taking good care of me.”
“Seems like you’re always taking care of him. He’s always sounding like he just woke up from a nap whenever I call you and leave a message when you’re not home.”
“He’s just not a morning person. Some of us aren’t.”
“So says the woman who rises at five AM to do ashtanga yoga.”
“I’ve taught him some poses,” Ororo chuckled.
“Too much information,” Ali sang, but it broke the mood. “Ask him how he likes his steak. You’re coming.”
“Rare. Rare enough to moo.”
“Yeek. No problem, though. And Ororo?”
“Hmm?”
“Let Logan bring the wine.” With that, they rang off.
Ororo began washing the afternoon dishes, noticing that Logan had finished the leftover turkey in the fridge, but eschewed the broccoli she made to go with it. She checked the clock and noticed that it was already after six. Where had the time gone? Better yet…
“Where on earth is that man? He should have been home by now.”
And why did she suddenly feel uneasy? Giblet mewed and flicked her tail from her perch.
*
“Cat got your tongue?”
Logan expelled a sigh.
“Nice suit. Almost makes you look like a businessman. Nothing like a little shiny gloss to fool people into thinking you can do that job, eh?”
“Ya look like yer dressed fer work, yerself. Back in the game already?”
“I never left the field. I just took a time-out.”
“Goody fer you.”
“Have you had a chance to celebrate yet? Getting your old job back and coming out of retirement?” Pietro shook his head and laughed under his breath, running his hand through the hair at his nape. “Were you just waiting in the wings for your buddy Mac to step up and push me out?”
“Ya weren’t pushed. Ya fell all on yer own.” Pietro’s smile stiffened and didn’t reach his eyes. “What’d ya expect? When a wolf raids the henhouse, night after night, ya gotta expect the farmer ta grab his gun and shoot that bastard’s head off. Gotta protect his property.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Ya don’t see me holdin’ a gun. Relax, asshole.” Pietro huffed and rocked back on his heels.
“I just wanted a friendly chat.”
“Figured ya’d pick the light of day. Most folks do that at Starbucks.” Logan left out that he did very little during the light of day. His job was exhausting him. As weeks went by, Clementine was scheduling his meetings later in the morning, even blocking out periods in his day where he could lock his door, pull the shades, and sleep. All the while, he was becoming more restless.
His neckties seemed to strangle him. He despised the hard leather Stacey Adams shoes and carrying around his life in a briefcase. How had he loved his life before?
Yet now, he was ready to fight for it. Someone wanted what was his.
“I wanted to catch you alone. Didn’t think I could tear you away from Ororo long enough, so I took matters into my own hands.” Logan’s blood seemed to bubble in his veins. His nostrils flared and his fists clenched slowly at his sides. He let his briefcase drop to the concrete with a resonant thud.
“She’s something, isn’t she?”
“Yeah. One in a million.”
“Smart. And fine, too.”
“Yep.”
“Can she fuck?” Logan didn’t budge, but his eyes dilated into black chips. “Man, I love the way she looks at me whenever I see her, like she just…I don’t know, like she could just swallow me up. Her eyes are so intense.” Pietro’s voice was haughty and carefree, as though they were standing in a locker room instead of a garage. “A woman with a mouth like that’s gotta suck some great cock. Mmmmmmm…a man can dream about that mouth and wake up with wet sheets.”
“Wet sheets, eh?” Logan repeated, unmoving, but his eyes narrowed in a clear message to shut the fuck up while Pietro was ahead.
“She’s a hell of a dancer. You know what they say. A woman who can bring it on the dance floor can bring it to bed.”
“I don’t dance.”
“Too bad,” Pietro tsked. “What else don’t you two have in common? She’s famous. Talented. Young. Hot. You look like life’s been pretty hard on you.”
“It’s had its moments.”
“Moments?” Pietro crowed. “Life took a shit all over you. Give it up, old man. You’re a dried up, tired limp dick.”
“I’m the limp dick the company wanted back more than they wanted you.” Logan sucked his teeth.
The tip of his tongue scraped the sharp, hard point of his left cuspid. He yawned, not afraid of how ugly the gesture looked. Pietro’s smile died at Logan’s expression of boredom.
“Ororo went out with me first.” He was smug, as though that justified his claim to her.
“She took her pill. She’s all better now.” Logan flexed his fingers until his knuckles cracked.
“She pities you. Some women like Ororo like a man they can take care of at first. Baby you. Build you up. It’s a novelty, like having a new puppy. But after a while, it gets old. She’ll want to move on.”
“Naw. She already did. And let me let ya in on a little secret.” Logan’s feet slowly carried him forward, again surprisingly silent.
“Ho, hold up, now!” Pietro feigned fear. “Easy, old man. Did I hurt your feelings? Want me to say I’m sorry? I’ll be a good boy. Logan shook his head.
His smile was slow and feral as he approached. He didn’t stop until he was right up in Pietro’s grill, so close he could smell his breath. Pietro towered over him, but Logan took up space and his dark eyes devoured him, promising to spit him out.
“C’mon. This is good, I guarantee it. Yer gonna love it.” Logan beckoned him down with a crook of his finger and leaned up, whispering in his ear. His hot breath stirred the hair at Pietro’s temple.
“An old dog like me’s learned all the tricks I need ta know. I ain’t a fuckin’ puppy.” Pietro leaned back and stifled a laugh, but Logan caught the defensive change in his body language. Smelled his fear. Logan made a low sound in his throat.
Deep. Harsh. His face was intent as he cocked his head and studied Pietro.
“Ya think ‘Ro pities me? Huh? Is that it?” Pietro couldn’t tear his eyes away from Logan’s. His stocky body seemed to keep moving until his hard, broad chest bumped his. Pietro tripped slightly, a clumsy movement for someone so used to being light on his feet. “Gotta tell ya somethin’, bub. C’mon. Yer gonna love it.”
“What do you think you can tell me?”
“I piss bigger than you.”
In the back of his mind, the Beast howled.
*
Ororo paced around her home and peered out the front window, watching for Logan’s car.
Her eyes landed on the paper. Logan hadn’t even unwrapped it from its plastic wrap yet. She opened it and laid it out on the table, sitting down with her cooling cup of hot chocolate.
One of the subheads on the front page caught her eye and made her lean in closer, mouthing the words.
“Local Woman Claims She Was Attacked by Former Employer and Lover”
Ororo shivered with a chill, even though her kitchen was warm.
She only skimmed the article, frustrated with the faceless woman’s plight until a name caught her eye.
AlphLight. Logan’s company. She worked there as an administrative assistant to the company’s previous director.
He reportedly assaulted her. Her injuries included contusions, a concussion and a broken arm.
She continued to mull the words, reading the whole thing over again.
Previous director…
She dropped her cup, shattering it on the tile. Giblet darted off in surprise, dodging the warm liquid and shards of pottery.
“Pietro,” she whispered. Her skin felt clammy and her stomach wrenched.
Moments later, she bolted from the kitchen, reaching the toilet in just the nick of time. She wretched until her stomach was empty.
*
Provoking a wild animal didn’t come without risks.
Faster than Pietro could blink, Logan’s hand shot up and fisted in Pietro’s collar and tie.
He bared his teeth and snarled, and only when it was too late did Pietro notice the subtle changes working their way over Logan’s face. The dim garage lights picked out stiff, spiky black hairs bursting through his flesh. Bristles of it coated his ears and cheeks. Pietro watched transfixed as Logan’s grip tightened around his jugular, blocking his instinctive swallow.
“Do ya pity me now?” His nostrils flared, widening as his nose darkened, toughening like aged leather. He shook him, rattling his teeth together.
*
Ororo leaned her face against the cool porcelain, still reeling.
He’d come into her home. Spent time with her. Taken her out in his car.
She’d trusted him. Ali trusted him, singing his praises.
“God, Logan, please come home. Please. Please. Please, come home.”
*
He shoved him back into a huge concrete support beam. His body struck it with a sharp crack, paralyzing him with pain; he tasted blood when he hit his tongue.
“I don’t even wanna hear ya say her name.” His voice warped, thickening and deepening in pitch with every word. The sound was the stuff of nightmares.
The voice of darkness.
“Thing about me ya gotta understand is, I live by instinct, whether it’s business or personal.” He slammed him back again, savoring Pietro’s grunt of pain and the fear twisting his features. Logan’s eyes shimmered a melted amber.
Lupine.
“My instincts tell me yer a wolf in the henhouse. Ya live ta raise a little hell and take what doesn’t belong ta you.” Guttural snarls punctuated each thrust of his fists as he hoisted him roughly in the air, over his head. Pietro’s feet shook and clattered back against the beam. “Coulda found another job. Or I coulda rolled over like a good dog, retired. Gone fishin’.” He grew bored with his vantage point of looking up into Pietro’s face. The tendons in his throat stood out like stiff cables, pulsing beneath Logan’s coarse palms. He tossed him away like a rag doll.
He wasn’t a man…
Pietro’s stomach churned with revulsion and pant-pissed terror as he crawled back on the heels of his hands, scuffing the elbows of his wool coat along the pavement. Logan continued to change as he hunkered slowly after him.
“I figured, ya must have figured ya had a chance with ‘Ro, maybe even a claim ta stake, showin’ up at her place unannounced. Frankly, I thought ya were the pizza guy,” he admitted with a shrug.
“You’re a freak!”
“Wrong.” His ears stretched, extending and shifting until they stood at the same level as his temples. “I’m the man I’m supposed ta be.” The crests thinned, narrowing into points. They twitched, then laid back.
“Get away from me, you sick sonofabitch!”
“Uh-uh,” he snarled, baring sharp teeth. “Ya haven’t learned not ta show up where yer not wanted yet, and not ta try an’ take what’s not yers.” He moved fast, darting after Pietro, moving almost at a lope. Pietro fumbled as he tried to scramble to his feet.
“STAY DOWN!” Clawed fingers closed around his arm and dashed him back to the pavement. Pietro slammed the side of his temple on the way down. His vision blurred and his eyes watered.
“Please.”
“You’re weak.” The Beast spoke through Logan’s lips. “Unworthy.” Logan back-handed him, letting his knuckles strike Pietro’s cheekbone with a sharp crack. “Sniffed around where you didn’t belong.” His fist plowed into his other cheek, forcing a rivulet of blood from his lips. “I can’t allow that.”
Pietro’s arms flailed and struggled to keep purchase to right himself. Something clattered out of his pocket. He closed his fingers around it and closed his eyes, striking out wherever his hand could reach…
He was rewarded with a clipped yelp of pain as his Cross pen stabbed the creature in the side of his throat.
All he did was make him angry…
He wrenched the tiny weapon from his wrist, nearly dislocating it; the silver pen skittered away, gleaming with a droplet of blood.
His throat burned. The insult wouldn’t go unpunished.
Claws raked his flesh, tearing through his dress shirt as he was captured again. Logan shook him, making his head bobble back and forth. His breath was hot and acrid. Minute flecks of spittle landed in his face, and demonic yellow eyes bore into him.
“Slick, pretty fuck,” Logan mused. “You wanna step ta me? Take my place again? Ya can’t handle this. All ya got is what’s on the outside.” His talons dug into his cheeks, threatening to puncture them as he held his face still.
Savage, razor-sharp fangs descended and closed around the T-zone of his face, clamping the flesh around his nose. He worried his head back and forth, caninelike, until his head nearly snapped off his neck. He drew blood, feeling it pool in his maw. It was salty and bitter, hardly surprising.
The man left a bad taste in his mouth from their first encounter.
“Let’s see if ‘Ro or any other woman wants ya when ya aren’t so damned pretty. And here’s a tip: ‘Ro don’t want you. I can see it in the way she moves and her scent. Hear her pulse. Ya don’t make her heart pound the way it does when a female meets a man she wants ta be her mate.” Pietro’s face throbbed in agony; myriad cuts in his flesh burned and bled, stinging so much he couldn’t see straight. The perfection of his face was ruined. He wailed low into his hands as he clutched his face, rocking facedown on the ground.
“I know ya ain’t the kinda man who could love her the way she needs ta be loved. Fer life. ‘Ro ain’t just a piece of ass. Remember that. She’s special. And she’s off-limits.”
“Fuck…you.”
Logan’s body began to tingle, and he staggered back into the shadows. Pietro moaned, watching crimson droplets hit the pavement in front of his face.
“You…think you’re that man, huh? You’re a freak.”
Logan’s body throbbed and he felt depleted, as though he’d finished a ten-mile run. Anger still bubbled in his veins, and the sight of Pietro’s blood was doing something to him.
Part of him wanted to see more. Much more.
Don’t. Please. Enough. The Beast within him roared and gnashed his teeth.
Enough.
“I’ll give ya a five-minute head start.” Pietro stared at him, incredulous. Logan’s eyes dilated again after his lingered too long. He felt the faint cramp of his bladder crying for release.
“You’re fucking kidding me-“
“Four and a half minutes.” His snarl was guttural. He stamped his foot for emphasis, and Pietro hated himself for lunging back.
He recoiled and ran for his car, fumbling for the automatic locks. With shaking hands he jammed the keys into the ignition and paused for one heart-stopping second.
His engine roared to life. His hand gripped the gearshift as he sized up his predator, outlined by his high beams.
He heard the brake release over the pounding of his heart, and Pietro floored the gas.
Logan’s ascent was otherworldly, graceful…and impossible as he leapt neatly into the air. His coat flapped around him, pushed by the draft as his springy muscles carried him in a perfect arc over the car.
“HolyshitshitSHIT!” His brakes screeched and he swerved just short of crashing into the support beam. Ugly black skid marks hooked themselves around it in a crooked letter ‘J’.
The jump hadn’t even winded him. He had the nerve to look disappointed…
He put his Benz in reverse, whipped around, and sped for the gate.
He spied Logan loping after him in the rearview mirror. Slowing down wasn’t an option.
The fucking guard had been oblivious to the scuffle and merely looked annoyed as Pietro pulled up to the security bar.
Except he wasn’t stopping.
“The hell…?”
CRRRUNNK!
Splinters of the security bar and shards of glass rained down upon the street as he tore away.
“MotherFUCKER!” The guard fumbled for the phone and tapped numbers in his computer to pull up the video feed of Pietro’s car entering the garage and his parking permit ticket number.
He never saw the stocky figure retreating into the shadows.
Logan stumbled into the garage’s restroom off the main corridor and locked the door after himself. His breath was harsh and did nothing to alleviate the dizziness; he banged up against the bathroom counter and leaned over the sink.
He still tasted Pietro’s blood on his lips and spat it out, staining the Corian surface.
He caught his reflection and recoiled.
Before his own eyes, his features warped and shifted back to normal, but that didn’t prevent him from witnessing the nightmare he had become. The hectic amber light faded from his eyes.
He dashed cold water into the sink and splashed it over his face and hair. Pinkish streams funneled down the drain as he roughly scrubbed his face.
He couldn’t wash it away. He’d never feel clean…
“I’m a freak,” he whispered.
His clothing was a lost cause, and it stifled him. He shouldered his way out of his coat and chucked it into the backseat of his car. The necktie was next, but he tolerated it less, balling it up and casting it into the garbage can.
Its bloodied silk dangled out from the lid as he made his way out of the gate, nodding grimly at the guard as he threw his money into the basket and drove out into the street.
The guard had problems of his own. He didn’t even blink.
*
Relief mingled with dread as Logan drove up Ororo’s driveway and saw her front lights on.
“Just tell her. Ya gotta tell her.” His coat had taken most of the damage; there were minute spatters of blood on his collar and lapel, but she’d seen him worse.
That was what made him ache.
Ororo was startled from her laptop by the sound of heavy footsteps coming up her front walk. She bolted for the door with Giblet hot on her heels.
“LOGAN! Oh, my God!” She yanked open the door and launched herself into his arms without preamble, nearly knocking him on his ass. He staggered back as his arms tightened around her. She fed his senses and he wanted to drown in her.
I can’t lose you. He heard the Beast whine in its throat, agreeing with him.
“Thank heaven you’re here. Oh, Logan, thank God,” she breathed into his hair. She clung to him so hard it was almost painful.
“I’m here, baby. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.” His voice low and soothing, despite that it shook.
“He was here. In my house,” she sobbed, and Logan felt dampness against his neck. His fingers clutched her hair, tangling in the soft waves.
“Ro, baby, ya don’t hafta worry about that guy who was stalkin’ ya anymore, remember? I know yer still shook up-“
“No. No, not him. I mean Pietro.” Logan stiffened and his whole body went on alert. He pulled himself back and shifted his grip from her waist to her upper arms. Her sharp intake of breath made his stomach twist; she finally had a good look at him.
“What the fuck are ya sayin’, darlin’? Was he here today?”
“No, thank goodness…sweetie…what the hell happened to you?” Her eyes widened and filled with horror as she looked him over. He flinched beneath her probing, gentle touch, shrinking beneath her gaze. He was ashamed.
“When was Pietro here, darlin’?”
“Oh. No. Not today,” she told him, and relief washed over him as she ushered him into the house. She examined him in the overhead light of her foyer. “Logan…what happened to you?” Her fingers flew to his throat. “You’re bleeding.” He flinched again, this time in pain as she grazed the wound on his neck. “It’s so raw. And it looks almost, burnt?”
“Eh?”
“It looks like something burned you,” she murmured. Her hands busied himself as she removed his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt. She peeled it down past his shoulders and tsked. “You’re coming with me. Kitchen. Now.” Her tone was imperious.
“Ro…”
“Uh-uh. Move it, buddy.” He was surprised at her briskness as she tugged him along by the hand, his blazer looped over her arm.
She nudged him into one of her kitchen chairs and hung the coat over another. She kept up her end of the dialogue as she moved from drawer to cupboard to refrigerator.
“You’re going to tell me where you got that burn. You’re going to tell me whose blood that is all over you. And you’re going to spill it about why you came home so late and scared the daylights out of me, Logan.”
“Right after ya tell me about Pietro bein’ in yer house.” She paused and faced him. They shared a heavy look, and she folded her arms around herself protectively.
“He’s not the man I thought he was.”
Logan wanted to shout What was your first clue? but instead remained silent. He watched her gather together an ice pack, peroxide, swabs, and a roll of gauze.
“Take that off. All the way off,” she ordered. He shucked his shirt, glad to be rid of it, and leaned back in his seat. His eyes drifted shut and his expression was pained. He was exhausted.
“What happened?”
“You tell me first.”
“I was worried about you, and I asked first.”
“Mine’s worse. Get yers off yer chest first.” She fought back the urge to shake him. But judging from his wounds, yes, his was worse.
“I saw this in the paper.” She slid the daily edition across the table until it bumped his fingertips. It was still open to the page she saved. His frown was thoughtful as he scanned the articles, and his eyes landed on the jump headline from the cover, “Assault, Continued.”
His eyes stopped on the name “AlphLight” and he slowly raised them to meet Ororo’s. “Damn.”
“Damn skippy.”
“Bastard.” He peered down at the name of the victim. “Lorna. She was his admin. They tossed her out on her ass when they locked him out.” He tugged her wrist, dragging her closer to him, and he gripped her in supplication. “Darlin’, Pietro’s the guy who took my old job. They didn’t give me early retirement. Fer all intents and purposes, they canned me. My friend Mac put two and two together and told the board. They brought me back in and said he had ta go.”
“Geez.” She shook her head. “I never would have…he seemed so educated and professional and self-made. He was so charming and such a gentleman.”
“He ain’t no gentleman.”
“This was a wake-up call and a slap in the face, when I saw this.” She flicked the page of newsprint.
“Ya gotta stay away from him.”
“I know that!” She shook herself free and went to the sink to wet a towel. “I can change my number. That’s easy enough, and I can tell Ali not to pass on any more messages to him…”
“That ain’t what I’m tryin’ ta say, darlin’.” She was trying to daub at his neck. The wound was slightly puckered; his skin was singed black around the entry point. He stilled her hand. “Darlin’, he followed me today.” She looked confused.
“What are you saying? Followed you?”
“He was waitin’ fer me after work. Out in the garage.”
“So, what? Don’t tell me you two got in a fight?”
“It ain’t what ya think…”
“He started something with you, didn’t he? Please don’t tell me you hit him! Logan?”
“Darlin’, he needed his ass kicked! Look at the kinda man he is! Look what he did to Lorna!” He was frustrated and indignant, but she held up a hand to silence him.
“Logan…think about what I’m saying. Look what happened before with that Darkholme man when he stalked me. You went after him. You almost killed him. That’s what could happen if you lose control.”
A chill crept down his flesh and he breathed harshly through his nose, nearly hyperventilating. “Darlin’, I don’t wanna tell ya this, and I hate myself, but I lost control.”
“Logan!”
“I almost killed that fucker tonight.”
Ororo froze; the swab fell from numb fingers, and she knelt before him. She leaned against his knees and took his hands. He fought against her, not wanting to look at her and trying to swat away her touch.
He was guilty. Soiled.
“You said you’d tell me what happened.”
“I can’t. Ya can’t handle what happened tonight.”
“Then you don’t love me,” she blurted.
“What!” He snapped back as though she’d hit him.
“If you can’t come clean with me, you must not love me, Logan.”
Was she nuts? Then it occurred to him, What the fuck? Don’t love her? Is she kidding?
“Don’t love you,” he repeated stupidly. “Are ya nuts?”
“I’ve handled a lot of what you’ve shown me so far, Logan. Give me the benefit of the doubt and a little more credit. I freak out sometimes, I’ll admit it. But hey, I’ve almost been stabbed, almost been shot, and I watched the man I love nearly die on a hospital bed. I figured the worst that can happen between us is already over with. Maybe I was wrong, in hindsight.” Her voice died, and more tears welled up in her reddened eyes. “But I love you so much-“
“Ya can’t,” he insisted, trying to wrest himself away, but her grip was so greedy and protective, and her face was wounded.
“I can, damn it, Logan, and I do, so you listen to me. You have to tell me what happened tonight. You can’t protect me from it. I need to know what Pietro said to you . What he did to you.”
He had to protect her from it. He shook his head. “Darlin’, please…just trust me when I tell ya not ta worry about him anymore. He ain’t gonna show up on yer doorstep again.”
“Tell me,” she demanded, as though he hadn’t spoken.
“Don’t, baby, just…don’t. Please. I’m askin’ you, ‘Ro. Don’t.” Fear welled up inside him. The Beast was growling warnings in his brain, making his heart pound.
“Then there’s nothing to say.” Her gaze was suddenly resigned. She released him, and he was afraid now as he watched her retreat from him.
“Where ya goin’, ‘Ro?”
“Bed. I’m tired. The gauze is there on the table; wrap up that burn so it doesn’t get infected, okay, sweetie?”
“Ro, wait.”
She wouldn’t listen to him as she strode into her room. Their room. It already felt like him, with several of his shirts, jeans and slacks hanging in her closet, and his aftershave sharing space on her vanity with her makeup.
He found his second wind and jumped up, chasing her.
“Ya don’t know what yer askin’ me for.”
“That’s what you keep telling me.” Almost mechanically she fished her favorite flannel pajamas from her top drawer and peeled off her sweater. “I guess I’ll believe it after a while. But that won’t make me feel any better.”
“Ororo!”
“Didn’t I tell you to wrap that?’
“No! Yes! Wait! Just wait one fuckin’ minute!” He reached around her and snatched her pajama top, tossing it away and spinning her around to face him. “It ain’t just that he confronted me. Darlin’, it wasn’t that dark out. No moon. No stars yet. Barely nightfall. And…I changed.” Her brows drew together.
“Logan…what?”
“I changed, darlin’. He drew it out of me, and I changed. And I ain’t never been so scared of what was inside of me.”
“Oh, sweetie!” She reached for him, cupping his face. He tried again to look away, but she tugged him back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I went after him. He said some things, darlin’, bout you. ‘Bout us. He egged me on and made me, I don’t know, just…just wanna hurt him. Put him down.” His eyes shone. “Put him in his place, fer challenging me.” His hands closed over hers. “Ya can hate me if ya want, but I lost it. He wasn’t just showin’ off in the locker room, ‘Ro.” She huffed in annoyance, but she stroked his hair back from his temple. “He smelled like a threat. I felt it when I first saw him here. There was something about him that just felt wrong.”
“I just thought he was a little uptight.”
“Well, ya thought wrong.” He closed his eyes and leaned into her. A tear slipped loose from his lids and raced down his cheek. “I don’t wanna lose you, ‘Ro, and ya can’t tell me I don’t love you. Just don’t make me live without you. Because I can’t.”
You can’t tell me I don’t love you. His words resonated inside her and her emotions threatened to pull her under.
“I was just watching him rant on and listenin’ to him talkin’ shit, ‘Ro. He waited for me out there. I don’t know how long. I knew there was somethin’ about him that rubbed me wrong, ‘Ro, but I didn’t wanna be right.” She traced his wound.
“He cut you?”
“Jabbed me in the neck. He was tryin’ ta get away.” She nodded, remembering the first night she saw him change and how badly she wanted to run.
“With what?”
“Shit. I don’t know…wait. It was this little pen.”
“A pen?”
“Yeah. One of those heavy ones, the kind a company gives ya for years of great service, performance, whatever. When they don’t wanna give ya a raise.”
“Like a Cross pen.”
“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, one of those!”
“What kind? What was it made of?”
“I dunno.” His face was blank. “I hardly saw it.”
“Some companies go for broke and give out gold ones.”
“No. Maybe it was platinum or something.”
“Or silver,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Silver,” she repeated numbly. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” She let him go and turned away, hugging herself.
“What’s the matter?”
“He could have killed you.”
“With a pen,” he argued. “Not on his best day.”
“No. With silver.” Nausea gripped him as it hit him what she was saying.
“I don’t…how can it…hurt me?”
“Silver’s like poison,” Ororo explained, tears threatening again, “to someone like you.” She hurried back to the kitchen, not caring that she only wore her jeans and bra.
“Ro!”
“Wait. You have to know this. You have to.” She came back with a spoon from her heirloom silverware box. “Hold this spoon.”
“Are ya kiddin’ me?”
“Hold it. Hold on to it.” She shoved it at him; his look was skeptical as he reached for it.
He gripped it, his face changing from doubtful to shocked, then to stricken with pain. “Ahhh! AGGGHH! SHIT!” He dropped it to the floor and wrung his hand, cradling it. Ororo reached for him again, tugging at his wrist. She forced his palm up for her inspection.
The skin was reddened and blistering from what looked like a second degree burn. She blew cool air to soothe his raw wound.
“How did ya know?”
“I did my homework.”
“On what?”
“Werewolves.”
“Werewolves. Wait. What?”
“Have you seen yourself when you change?”
“Well…hell. Yeah. Just today.”
“You look like a wolf. Still like a man, but like a wolf, sweetie.”
“That’s nuts.”
“It’s worse at night. There’s the thing with the meat, and how sharp your hearing is, how exhausted you are during the day, and you heal so fast, Logan! You could have been in the hospital for days, or even weeks. They discharged you in twenty-four hours.” She clutched a handful of his undershirt and tugged it aside. “There’s no scar. How can you explain that?”
“That’s just it, baby. I can’t.” He sank down onto the bed, still staring at his palm. “I was attacked a while back. That’s where I got this right here.” He tilted his chin, displaying the scars marring the skin. “Wolf. Huge. I was just takin’ out the trash in the middle of the night, and it jumped out of the dark. Almost tore out my throat.”
“Baby,” she crooned, easing down beside him. She wrapped her arm around his waist and kissed his shoulder.
“I was scared shitless. I hit it, as hard as I could. A car tearing down the road past my house finished the job.” Her scent wafted around him like a blanket. “After that, nothing else was the same. Smells were too strong, voices were too loud. Everything’s just…extreme. And I feel…wild.”
Ororo gave his shoulder one last kiss and reluctantly left the bedroom. She came back with her tools from the kitchen and wrapped his hand and covered the wound at his throat. She finished getting ready for bed and slid between the covers, beckoning him to come to her.
She held him, both of them too frustrated and on edge to make love. He listened to her heartbeat until he fell asleep.
Yet she woke a few hours later to find him gone, his pillow cold.
The Beast was restless. Moody.
The bedroom was confining, even stifling. His mate slumbered peacefully. He was still on edge from her fears, and his failure to make her feel safe, protected.
He had to prove himself to her.
His mate.
She plagued his dreams. He craved her touch. He savored her heat. She belonged to him. He knew nothing of love, only that she completed him, calming something inside of him that he couldn’t describe.
The sounds of rolling waves comforted him and he took deep gulps of cool night air and sea mist, but this merely whet his appetite. He needed the dappled, soothing darkness of the wilderness. Now.
Textures around him felt rough and decadent, whether it was moss beneath his feet or the careless brush of tree bark when he ran too close.
There was no thought of tomorrow. Tonight was what mattered. In the darkness, beneath the stars was where he belonged, where he reigned.
He ran. He hunted. He stalked. The Beast reveled in the thrust of his muscles and rolling gait, savoring the flavors of fresh game and his own musky sweat. He rested a moment, staring at the bandaged appendage in wonder.
It was a nuisance. He peeled off the strange gauze and cast it off, sniffing at the injury that was still red and shiny from where he was burned. He sniffed it, darting out his long tongue and tasting it. It still smarted; he winced and huffed. It would get better, he surmised, but the pain would linger.
Dawn threatened his repose. His den beckoned. So did his mate. That quickened his steps.
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