by Kym Grosso
“My baby, Logan, my baby,” the woman wailed as she fell into his embrace. “Oh God help me.”
Wynter watched intently as Logan cried along with the old woman. It was evident that he knew her well. It was as if Logan’s heart had been splayed open for all to see, but he didn’t deny the woman’s grief. No, he mourned with her, held her until she calmed. Others wept alongside them as the torrent fell from the skies.
Wynter’s feet began to move before her brain had a chance to process what she was doing. A sharp tug on her arm reminded her of where she was. Tears stung her cheeks as Jake pulled her toward him. Her wolf sought to comfort her mate, to care for him. But it wasn’t just her wolf, it was Wynter. Every part of her being needed to soothe him. As if Logan sensed what was happening, his eyes pierced the crowd and locked on hers. Both unable to speak or move, it seemed as if centuries passed while they locked in a gaze. The roar of a thunderbolt caused her to look up to the heavens, losing eye contact.
Logan felt Wynter’s concern, but it was the touch of an unmated male that caught his attention. But soon, he realized Jake was holding her back. She was coming for him. The caring expression on her face told him how much she needed him. The unspoken encouragement from his mate drove him to continue. Releasing the woman back to Fiona, he touched a loving hand to Dana’s coffin.
“Dana, my friend. You will never, ever be forgotten. Your death will not go unpunished. I promise you, as I stand here today,” Logan’s voice cracked as he fought his emotion, “you will be avenged.”
As he spoke his last words, Dana’s mother nodded in approval. The funeral director gestured for his workers to remove the draping. Logan gave a silent signal to Dimitri that it was time to place Dana into her final resting place. Six men held the casket by its handles, lifting it gently into the tomb’s upper vault. As it disappeared into the dark chamber, Fiona, and Dana’s mother led the procession of people to the exit while the sounding trumpets played, ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’.
Surreal as it was, Wynter watched as the people poured back into the narrow paths, silently thanking God no one had been struck by lightning. As if all the air had left her lungs, she struggled to make her way out of the cemetery. She concentrated, putting one frozen wet foot in front of the other. Small fingers grasped her wrist, and she peered under the umbrella to see Fiona standing in front of her.
“I am so sorry for your loss,” Wynter managed genuinely. If anyone knew loss, it was her.
“Thank you for coming. I know it mustn’t have been easy,” Fiona related with understanding. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
Unsure of what to say, Wynter dipped her head in acknowledgement and gave her a sympathetic smile. A gust of wind pushed both women onward toward the exit. Wynter gasped for breath and held tight to Jake, stumbling through the icy puddles. Jake pointed to a waiting limo, and she blindly followed. Relief filled her as a car door opened, and she fell, shivering, into its warm confines. Jake quickly pressed his hip to hers, forcing Wynter to move over into the next seat. As the heat hit her feet, she glanced up to find Logan staring at her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Wynter’s stomach dropped as the elevator lurched toward the sky. She didn’t understand why they were in Logan’s high-rise, but kept quiet on their ascent. Fighting the claustrophobia, she closed her eyes after it passed the floor where she’d first met Logan in his office. A resounding jolt forced her to focus on the opening doors. Rain blew into the small chamber, causing her to gasp. What the hell? Instinctively, she covered her ears upon hearing the deafening whirl of the helicopter blades. Wind hit her face, and she stopped, frozen in disbelief. A small push between her shoulder blades put her feet back in motion, propelling her toward the blinking lights.
The pressure from the spinning rotors sprayed air and water onto them as they crossed the helipad. Wynter felt Logan wrap an arm around her waist, guiding her into the dimly lit cabin. Shocked as she was, she was relieved to be out of the weather. The soft tan leather seats felt smooth on her palms. She took in her surroundings, noticing that the luxury helicopter had four seats, complete with plasma TV screen and bar. Peering forward, she spotted a pilot through the small privacy glass.
Logan sat down next to Wynter, closing the door after Dimitri. Having never been in a helicopter, panic rose in Wynter’s throat. She looked to Logan and Dimitri who both appeared solemn but altogether calm as if they’d done this a million times. But of course they have, she thought to herself. Meanwhile, all she could think about was crashing in the middle of the night inside the little tin can. A very lush, expensive tin can, but still it was night and it was raining. Both of those factors could not be good, she reasoned.
“Why are we..?” she began to yell over at Logan, her face white with fright.
He reached behind her seat and grabbed a pair of headphones. Ever so gently, he placed them onto her ears, gliding his thumb down the side of her cheek. Wynter gazed into his eyes, wanting desperately to talk with him about what had happened, but as she went to open her mouth, he looked away and put a set on his own ears.
“Why are we taking a helicopter? Are you sure this is safe?” Wynter asked, her voice laced with alarm. “It’s raining.”
“Not optimal but it’s let up some. Besides, the wind has died down and there’s no fog. We don’t want to take any chances getting ambushed on the roads. Don’t worry, it’s safe.”
“’Bout forty-five minutes to an hour, if the weather cooperates. You’ve never flown in a whirlybird, cher?” Dimitri inquired with a relaxed smile.
“No I haven’t,” she replied, gasping as they vaulted up into the night sky. Her fingernails dug into the leather, and she hoped they wouldn’t leave scratches. She watched in wonder as tiny lights below flickered in the distance as they buzzed toward their destination.
Logan, unable to take another minute of his self-imposed isolation, reached for Wynter’s hand. Slowly peeling her fingers from the seat, he placed her palm on his leg, and caressed her fingers. Goddess, he missed touching her. The small gesture sent loving tendrils throughout his body, reminding him that she really was his mate. When they got home, they’d have to have a long discussion about their relationship, her future as a wolf.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he assured her in a tender voice that he hadn’t used since before she’d left to go with Jax. He continued to massage her hand, sliding a thumb into her palm. “Just rest. We’ll be there soon.”
Wynter relaxed into the small but poignant contact. Her hand burned with warmth radiating from his thigh, and she fought the urge to lean into him, to touch him, to kiss him. As if her body obeyed his directive, she let her forehead rest against the cool window. Within seconds, she’d fallen fast asleep to the soft lullaby of the humming blades.
Creaking metal woke Wynter. The silence that followed told her they had landed. Logan, who’d already begun exiting, extended his hand.
“We’re home,” he told her.
Home? No, his home, not hers, she thought. But still, that small spark of hope told her to embrace her future with optimistic curiosity. Her heart fluttered in response. With a cautious smile, she clasped her palm in his, accepting his assistance down the steps.
It was only a short ride from the helipad to Logan’s house. When they’d exited the car, Wynter eyed the blue tarp which covered the exterior of the huge contemporary house. It appeared unfinished yet lights glimmered through the undraped casement windows. Floodlights illuminated the fresh landscaping, and the smell of newly laid mulch and fragrant roses permeated the night air.
The rain had subsided, and they quickly made their way up the walkway towards the entrance. Logan flipped open a security pad and typed in a code. The lock clicked open and he turned the handle. As they entered, she followed Logan’s lead and kicked off her sodden shoes, thankful she’d gone without stockings. In a few minutes, her feet would dry nicely and the smooth hardwood floor felt soothing to her sore toes.
�
�Adèle,” Logan called.
Wynter looked around the foyer that led into a spacious great room. A modern rectangular shaped gas lit fire blazed atop its round white stones. The black pit, outlined in stainless steel, stood out against the cream-colored Kasota stone hearth. Three tall vases filled with ornamental grass sat atop a thin dark wooden mantel.
A soft purring creature rubbed against her legs, startling Wynter. She knelt down, petting the sweet cat who meowed and pressed its head into her hands.
“Well, hello, kitty,” she said softly, touching its ears.
“I see you’ve met Mojo,” Logan acknowledged.
“Hmm? You have a cat?” Wynter replied in surprise, trying to hide her amusement.
“Here kitty, kitty. Come to Daddy,” Logan sang in his best baby voice. The small black ball of fur ran toward him, purring voraciously, and he scooped the kitten into his arms, placing kisses on her head. He continued to talk in a soft voice, pretending to talk to the cat while really answering Wynter. “Yes, I have a kitty. And she’s such a good girl, aren’t you? Who’s a good kitty?”
“Mojo,” she repeated, smiling.
Wynter watched in amazement as the Alpha tenderly caressed the sweet little creature. Of all things she thought might happen tonight, this certainly was not one of them. As this terrifyingly attractive side of Logan was revealed to her, she fought the urge to run up and kiss him. The wanting, the temptation was so great; she forced herself into the floor, remaining rooted in place.
“She’s not very much into Voodoo, but she’s lucky,” he explained, petting her and rubbing his face into her soft fur. He caught Wynter examining him as if he had four heads. “What?”
“I’m just…I don’t know, surprised. I love cats, but a wolf with a cat? Seems counterintuitive.” And sexy.
“Yeah, that’s what Tristan thought too. His mate runs an animal shelter. One day, I spent quite a bit of time in her cat room. And what can I say?” He shrugged, fixing her with his eyes as if he was talking about her and not the cat. “I fell in love. You know, sometimes, Dr. Ryan, we can’t control who we fall in love with. Sometimes even when things don’t make sense, they actually make the most sense in the world.”
Wynter blushed and looked away. Oh God, she wanted to touch him so badly. Heat filled her body. Desire pulsed through her veins. She tried to think of anything but sex. What was wrong with her? Just as she’d mustered enough bravery to respond coherently, a portly woman with a gray bun wandered into the foyer. Logan let the cat jump to the floor, approached and gave her a hug.
“Ah, Adèle. Meet Wynter. Wyn, this is Adèle. She’s kept me in one piece since I’ve moved home.”
“Nice to meet you.” Wynter noticed how at ease Logan was with his housekeeper.
“Wynter va rester avec moi,” he told the woman. Adèle ran her eyes over Wynter before conceding that she was welcome.
“Oui, oui. Bonjour, Wynter,” Adèle greeted. She briskly turned on her heels, speaking rapidly in French. She waved an arm, gesturing for them to follow. “Allons, le dîner est prêt.”
“Merci, I’m starving,” Logan picked up a piece of fluffy white bread out of a bowl and quickly stuffed it into his mouth before she had a chance to protest. “Merci beaucoup pour obtenir la maison prête. Everything looks great.”
Adèle pointed to the large glass dining table, and promptly set out another place setting for his guest. Logan sat at the head of the table and gestured for Wynter to sit at his side. Wynter, famished, obeyed, not sure what she should do next. The enticing aroma of a basket of warmed New Orleans-style French bread teased at her nose. Adèle set out two large bowls of what Wynter thought was gumbo, and plates of salad.
“Salade. Gumbo. Pain,” Adèle ticked off her creations and then took off her apron. “See you tomorrow, no?”
“Oui, and thanks again, Adèle. The place is really coming together,” Logan noted.
She smiled and nodded, but appeared to be in a hurry to leave. “Oui, Monsieur. Soyez le bienvenu.” With a wave, she took off toward the back of the home. A door shutting let them know they were alone.
Following Logan’s lead, Wynter dug into the delightful gooey mixture with her spoon. They ate in silence. She noticed that like the great room, the kitchen was sparsely decorated. Dark cherry cabinets and hardwood floors were offset by the white granite countertops. The only item on the counter alongside the wall was a coffeemaker. No dishes or glasses sat atop the oversized rectangular island. In fact, there wasn’t much décor at all. No pictures on the walls. Not even a clock. Taking a deep breath, she could smell the new drywall and paint and wondered how long Logan had lived here.
As if he read her thoughts, he was the first to speak. “I just built it,” he commented without explanation.
“It’s beautiful,” she replied.
“It’s empty,” he countered. “But someday soon, it’ll be more of a home than a house.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“I haven’t.”
“Hmm?”
“This is the first meal I’ve eaten here…with you,” he stated, meeting her eyes. Had she no idea how important she was to him? How important she had yet to become? It was killing him. The silence. The lack of understanding. And most of all the lack of intimacy. Intimacy which had shattered into a million bits when she left him to go with Jax. It was time to talk, to not just mend their relationship, but set it on a course that would solidify their future.
Wynter stilled at the realization that he’d brought her here, to his home. He’d told her that he’d lived in Marcel’s home, but this was a new beginning. It had been something special he’d built on his own and now shared with her. Her chest tightened, and she struggled to come up with the right words.
“Logan, I…I’m sorry,” she began. “Today…it’s just that everything has moved so quickly. And not just this…this thing between us. It’s everything.”
“This thing,” he said tersely. “This thing is not a thing. It’s a bond, Wynter. I’ve marked you. We’re mates. It’s not simply a choice we make. It either is or it isn’t.”
“Yes, but I…” she placed her spoon on the table and wiped her mouth.
“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through over the past two months?” Logan asked rhetorically, well aware she couldn’t possibly comprehend the struggle he’d endured. The low calm of his voice was edged in a controlled indignation. “My friend, Marcel. We grew up together, spent a lifetime as friends. He was Tristan’s brother, but they both are my family in every sense of the word. Two months ago, I sat with his blood on my hands. I watched as the life drained from his eyes.”
Logan coughed, sucking back his emotions. Enough tears had been shed. “And minutes before that, do you know what I did, Wyn?”
She quietly shook her head.
“I killed a man…with my own hands. Not as wolf. As a man. That death is on my hands.” He held his palms upward, staring at them as if they were dripping in blood.
“That night, I vowed to Marcel that I’d lead his pack, to take care of his wolves. Marcel begged me…I didn’t want this, to be Alpha. My role as beta was comfortable, respected. I loved Tristan. It isn’t something I did lightly,” he reflected, placing his palms down on the table. “But it is done. For the last two months, I’ve fought challenges. Bloody, ripped up fur and bruises, week after week.”
“Logan,” Wynter gasped quietly. What had he been through?
“I may’ve vowed to be Alpha. But I also earned it. I paid in blood. I paid in sleepless nights. And only this week as I completed my last challenge, I threatened the next wolf who challenges me with death. Do you know what that means, Wyn?”
Wynter could guess but dared not speak it aloud. She remembered the conversation she’d had with Logan about how Fiona’s father had died…in a challenge.
“The next wolf who challenges me is dead,” he stated emotionlessly. “I cannot tolerate any more instability. For the sake of the pack, the acce
ptance of my reign must continue. Every time there is a challenge, the pack becomes unsettled. Volatile. It isn’t good for them. Or me.”
“I’m sorry. Logan, I didn’t understand. I don’t know what that has to do with us, though.”
“It has everything to do with you. Me. Us. Our mating. Today, when you left,” he growled, shaking his head in disapproval. “I was so angry. Angry you’d left me to go with Jax. He’s unmated. And whoever else you were with was too.”
“But how did you know? I didn’t…”
“I could smell them on you when you got home. Goddess, Wyn.”
“So because you marked me and you’ve decided we’re mates, I can’t even go with my family? Are you kidding me?”
“It isn’t just that, Wyn. Aside from the fact that you are very much in danger, I had specifically asked you to stay. Granted, I didn’t order you as your Alpha. But I came damn close. And you…how could you not see that I needed you to stay so we could talk? I get that you’re not wolf, but any she-wolf would have never left her mate…not until she’d claimed him for her own. Not only did you disrespect me by telling me no and going off with Jax, it was as if your wolf rejected mine by leaving.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ve got to understand that I’m…”
“Human,” he finished her words. “Yes, yes you are. But not for long, Wyn. The full moon beckons and even if you choose to deny our mating, you’ll have to learn to live within your nature.”
Frustrated, Logan loosened his tie, took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He stood at the head of the table; his fingers grasped the back of the chair. The animal in him wanted to throw the damn thing, smash it into kindling. But it was not all who he was. He closed his eyes, willing his wolf to calm.
He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I can’t do this. Either you need to accept your wolf or I…I don’t know. I just know that I’ve worked too damn hard to become Alpha. Wolves depend on me. And it isn’t just the fact that when I get angry or hurt, the pack feels it. If anyone besides Dimitri had seen what you did today, disrespecting me, blatantly denying my request to stay…it’ll lead to a challenge. I can’t have that happen. Not over us, anyway.”
