Blackwing Defender (Kane's Mountains Book 1)

by T. S. Joyce

  Almost done.

  Beast slammed him into the dirt and whaled on him, but okay. This was better than him murdering Dustin in front of these humans.

  But his bear was enjoying this too damn much.

  Kill him.

  Logan shook his head hard to punish the animal, to dislodge the visions flashing across his mind of another battle—one where he’d challenged a head-sick tiger shifter and put him down. Troy. Troy’s name was a black mark on his soul.

  Beast’s face morphed into the dark-haired tiger shifter’s face that haunted his dreams, then back to Beast’s face. To Troy’s features, and then back.

  Kill him.

  Logan rolled them over again and pounded Beast’s jaw, caught the titan’s fist in his own and crushed his hand.

  “Logan!” He could barely hear a woman’s voice through the red fog that was seeping through his mind.

  Someone touched him now, pulled at him. He didn’t like touch. Logan yanked away so he could bash Troy’s face in. He wasn’t called in unless they’d taken innocent human life. He was justice. This asshole had killed. Troy wasn’t able to control his animal, so Logan would control it for him, six feet under.

  “Logan, stop!”

  This was a good fight. Troy was an even match. Surprising. His alpha said he was middle of the crew dominant, but he’d been wrong. Troy was strong and dominant as hell, unbreakable…almost. Troy’s face twisted up like the big cat that was inside of him, his teeth growing longer. White tiger or orange? One would show blood better. Kill him.

  Troy was going to shift. Finally. Logan’s bear knew the drill, no shifting until the target did. It had to be a fair fight so he could keep his sanity longer.

  “Beast, don’t Change!” someone screamed. Beautiful scream. She sounded scared as her claws scrabbled at his back.

  Beast? No, this was Troy. Troy, Troy, Troy. Right? The man under him morphed. He changed to a scar-faced man with short blond hair and gold eyes. Lion eyes, not a tiger’s. Not Troy’s eyes.

  “Logan, please.” Winter. His Winter. Not cold like winter, but warm. Warm Winter. Winter of Nowhere.

  The bear was right there, scratching at his skin, but Logan had to stop him. Logan took a hit to the stomach and doubled over, flung himself off Beast. Not a threat to humans, not a target. Just another broken shifter like himself.

  When he coughed hard, blood sprinkled the arena dirt under him. Beast had gotten in some good lung shots. He wasn’t in a jungle anymore, but the horse stables. Dustin was yelling at Beast, who was subdued now, looking as confused as Logan felt. Emma was heaving breath, pacing along the fence line. And Winter—beautiful Winter—was kneeling beside him, her hand gentle on his back as he coughed his lungs up.

  He should be ashamed, but she didn’t berate him. She was chanting, “It’s okay. It’s okay,” offering him salvation with her words.

  Her hand felt so good, petting him along his spine, with the grain of his fur if he was shifted right now. His head throbbed, stomach throbbed…dick throbbed. He wanted to bury himself in her again and feel better for a few minutes, but he remembered where he was and what he’d done. The marks from their first pairing were still deep and red on her arm.

  Logan struggled up and away because the bear was too damn close to her. She wasn’t safe enough.

  She wasn’t letting him away, though. She chased him all the way to the fence and cornered him, trapping him until he couldn’t escape, and then she wrapped her arms around his back as if he wasn’t a waste of space. As if he was worth something. Her lips brushed his skin over and over, right over his heart. What was she doing? It felt good, but she made no sense. She should be running. He could smell the fur of her animal, could smell her terror, yet here she was clinging to him.

  “I want to be good enough,” he muttered hoarsely, mindlessly. Don’t do that to her. Don’t give her hope.

  “You are.”

  What she said made him angry. Logan struggled out of her grip and glared in shock at her. “You’ve lost your mind. Yell at me, Winter. Where is your anger?”

  “Logan,” Emma murmured.

  She and Dustin were approaching now, herding him, but he wasn’t some fucking sheep. “Stay back!”

  Beast snarled from twenty yards away, but fuck it. Winter needed to hear this.

  “I keep waiting for you to yell at me for what I did to you, Winter. You let me get away with something unforgiveable! I don’t fucking get it! It’s not okay. Nothing is okay, so stop telling me that. Don’t be that girl who doesn’t call people out on their shit. Don’t be weak.”

  Winter looked so hurt. It was in the tears that rimmed her eyes. He hated himself.

  “Maybe it takes a strong person to care about someone despite their monstrous faults,” she gritted out as she strode past him, bumping his shoulder hard.

  “I’m calling the police!” one of the handlers called from where he and the others were crowded in a loose group. He had a phone up to his ear. Shit.

  The others drifted past him, making their way to the parking lot.

  “Way to go, douchebag,” Emma muttered.

  Logan expected Dustin to make some smart remark as he meandered past rubbing his shoulder. He didn’t, though. He kept his eyes averted, neck exposed, and murmured, “Thanks for that back there.”

  Logan huffed a breath and hooked his hands on his waist as he looked up at the blue sky above. He might have started off with good intentions on saving Dustin from Beast, but he’d ended it in psycho-land, flashing back to a kill. If they knew that, they would shun him from the D-Team, or whatever they were calling themselves. Something about that thought made his stomach hurt worse than the punches he’d taken to the gut.

  He’d never cared about belonging before, so what was wrong with him now? Clearly, more desperation on his bear’s part to save himself.

  Beast glared at him from where he leaned on the fence, his face all bloody and bruised to hell. Logan spat red in the dirt and muttered, “Sorry, man.” Then turned and made his way behind the others toward his busted-up truck.

  This was why he didn’t get close to people. No matter his intentions, he always hurt them. He made bad decisions. Winter had comforted him and hugged him when he felt like his insides were falling apart, and what had he done? Called her weak for it.

  Another mistake to stomach on his way down. Winter wasn’t weak at all. She’d fixed Dustin’s injury and kept Beast from Changing and calling out Logan’s inner bear. She’d approached him when he was midway to shifting, even though she’d been deeply and physically hurt by his bear before.

  Dustin had thanked him for helping him, but the werewolf didn’t understand.

  Brave, beautiful, quiet, understanding Winter was the one who had saved them.

  And something dark and selfish inside of Logan wished she could save him, too.

  Chapter Twelve

  Winny, I’m worried. I miss you. Where are you? Ben won’t tell me anything. I need you.

  God, she’d always hated the nickname Brody had given her. Winter huffed a sigh and debated texting him back to leave her alone. But if she opened up a line of communication, he would dig in and get relentless, and what if she caved eventually? What if Logan had been right? What if she was weak?

  Maybe she should change her number.

  Her phone dinged again, and a flash of anger took her. He had a mate, a wife, a child on the way. He had the perfect life she’d always wanted, and he was throwing it away. She didn’t want anything to do with his self-destruction.

  She glared at the glowing screen, but bolted upright when she read the text from an unknown number.

  I didn’t mean what I said earlier.

  Who is this, she messaged, just to make sure.

  You know. You aren’t weak, Winter. I am. Just wanted to say sorry.

  She drew her knees up to her chest and relaxed against the headrest of the motel bed. The lights were off and the television was on but turned all the way down. She s
tared at the Old West shoot-out playing across the screen. Her heart rate was going a thousand miles a minute, and what did that say about her? Nothing good. Logan was bad news, but she’d still latched onto him deeply already.

  How did you get my number?

  Resources from the old job. That, or Emma gave it to me and told me to stop being a dick.

  I like Emma, she typed with a smiley face.

  If I had a heart, I would like her too. It was followed by a little grinning devil symbol.

  Okay, so Logan knew how to tease. Good. Winter turned around on the bed and put her feet onto the wall facing his room, just to feel more connected to him. Brody just texted me. I’m thinking about being super WEAK and messaging him to come cheat on his new pregnant wife with me. He might be my soulmate. Devil symbol. Send.

  A minute drifted by, and at last her phone dinged again. Are you trying to get him killed? Then the symbol of a harmless-looking teddy bear came through.

  Winter giggled. Are you in your room?

  Sitting outside in a bag chair that Dustin gave me. Drinking a six pack after the disaster that was today. Don’t come out here. I’ll fuck everything up in person. It’s my way. This chair smells like wet dog.

  Winter log-rolled off the bed and padded over to the window. With the barest brush of her fingertips, she moved the curtain just a crack. Logan was out there in a pair of dark gray sweatpants, no shirt, two beers into a six pack, staring at his phone like he was waiting for her to respond. His lips were curved up slightly. Then suddenly he looked over at her, right at her.

  Winter squeaked and unhanded the curtain, bolted from the window, and laid on the bed again, feet up on the wall.

  Her phone vibrated. Curious kitty.

  She rested her hand on her stomach, right over the butterflies there, then typed her response. So you know…I was really mad at you for the claw marks. Just because I don’t react the way you think I should doesn’t make me weak. I’m just tired of fighting with everyone, and I know you didn’t mean to do it.

  A couple minutes passed. I did mean to do it.

  Winter frowned. Your bear did, but not you. You wouldn’t hurt me. Right?

  Goodnight Winter.

  And there it was. Logan cut people off who got too close to the real him, and this was his line. He’d drawn it in the sand, but it wasn’t an invite to come over to his side and join him, no. His line was really a fence, and he was behind it like a rabid guard dog keeping everyone away from his junk yard. She could beg him to keep talking to her, but Logan didn’t respond to pushing. He responded to patience. He rewarded her for patience with tiny peeks into his soul that he likely didn’t share with anyone else.

  Goodnight Logan.

  She got up and looked out the window again, just to see him pack up, but he didn’t. Instead, he buried his face in his hands and rubbed the heels of his palms against his eye sockets. The soft murmured, “Fuck,” drifted through the window. Logan rested his elbows on his knees and shook his head for a long time as if he was at war with himself. He looked back at his phone, typed something in, then shook his head again and turned it off. He stood and started packing up, so she let the curtain fall again, her emotions completely mixed now.

  Logan didn’t feel so much like a distraction from Brody anymore. Logan was second to no one. She imagined him as a beautiful puzzle. She held two misshapen pieces in her hands, brightly colored, interesting, a fraction of the bigger picture that was Logan. She wanted more. She wanted to collect them all, one by one until she could really and truly see him.

  He thought he was ruined, and maybe some of his pieces were.

  Not all of him, though.

  She could tell in the way he’d held her in the bathtub and how he’d stuck up for Emma today when the A-Team was popping off. She could tell because he’d invited the D-Team to ride horses just for a better shot at the crew. And in the way he hadn’t hesitated to put himself between Beast and Dustin.

  She could tell he wasn’t ruined because of his apology.

  Winter readied for bed in a daze of spinning thoughts. Logan was push and pull, and she didn’t know how she felt about being constantly dragged up and down emotionally. But Brody had been solid from day one, and look what had happened. He’d been a secret monster all along. At least Logan owned his struggle.

  It was cold in the motel, and the thermostat was one stubborn sonofabitch, so she pulled on an oversized, threadbare sweater and some knee-high socks and made down the sheets. But just as she moved to turn off the muted television, a knock sounded on the door.

  Shifter she may be, but idiot she was not, so she peeked through the window before she opened the door. Logan stood there, looking at her, eyes glowing silver, arms locked against the doorframe. He looked terrifying. And delicious.

  Slowly, she opened the door, then leaned her cheek on the edge of it. “More apologies?”

  Logan shoved off the frame and retreated a couple steps, eyes never leaving hers. “Do you need more?”

  “No.”

  He swallowed hard and ran his hand down his dark whiskers. “Can I come in?”

  “Is this a booty call? Because last time we did the deed, I got some unfortunate body modifications.”

  His glance flitted to her arm covered with the sweater sleeve, then back to her eyes. “I won’t push that, but…” He shrugged one shoulder up.

  “I’m tired,” she murmured.

  He nodded. “Of course. Sorry.”

  He turned to leave, but she said softly, “You want to lay beside me?”

  Logan halted, his back to her. His shoulders lifted in a painful looking inhale, as if he was having trouble breathing. “Yeah,” he said low. “I want that.”

  “You ever done that before—just slept beside someone?”

  He shook his head. He still wore his gray sweats and no shirt, so she could see how tense his back was. He looked like a stone, standing there in the halo of lamplight. Slowly, he turned, neck exposed as he passed her and stepped into her room.

  “Smells good in here,” he rumbled. “Smells like you.”

  She smiled and slipped her hand in his. He flinched but didn’t pull away. After a split second of hesitation, he squeezed gently and looked down at her, the bright gray in his eyes cooling to a stormy color. He led her to the bed and waited for her to crawl in, then hit the power button on the television remote, casting them into complete darkness.

  Winter held open the covers for him, grinning like a lunatic because Logan wanted touch. He wanted connection. With her. The butterflies turned to hummingbirds in her stomach as his warm leg rubbed hers.

  “I like what you’re wearing,” he murmured. “Just the socks and shirt, no pants. You ever feel like sending a dirty pic, you take a selfie in that get-up for me, will ya?”

  She giggled and snuggled closer, slid her hand over the flexed abs on his stomach. He stayed stiff under her, as if he didn’t know what to do, but that was okay. Affection wasn’t natural for a man like Logan. At least he was trying.

  After a few minutes of his heartbeat pounding under her palm, Logan rolled toward her and slipped his arms around her, cradled her against his chest. He was shaking. “Am I doing this right?”

  When a deep, rumbling purr vibrated her throat, Logan chuckled at her answer. “Winter?”

  “Yeah,” she whispered in an effort not to break the magic of this moment.

  “What happened to you? I mean before Red Havoc. Why did your alpha have to save you?”

  Now it was Winter who flinched. Logan plucked her clawed fingers from his ribcage and kissed the tripping pulse in her wrist gently.

  She didn’t want to talk about it, or revisit memories. She’d told Brody part of it, but he hadn’t wanted to hear more. He’d told her he just wanted to look forward to the future, not get stuck in the past, so she’d pushed it all to the back of her head, locked it up tight so she wouldn’t be a disappointment to Brody, who was normal and good and wouldn’t understand baggage.<
br />
  She’d been so desperate to be normal, too, it had seemed like a fair trade-off to pretend her life had begun the day she’d stumbled into Red Havoc.

  But here was Logan, asking her to allow him into the shadows and let him have time to adjust his eyes to her darkness, and there was something so terrifying about that, but so liberating at the same time.

  “My parent was human.”

  “Both of them?”

  “No, just the one that counted. My mom was a panther, a drug addict, and she couldn’t keep up with raising a kid, so she gave me to my dad. Signed away her rights, left him, left me. I only saw her a few times after that. She was…disappointing. My dad wasn’t super well-off or anything, and we lived in New York, right in the middle of the city in this tiny one-bedroom apartment.”

  “You lived in the city?”

  She huffed a breath. “Yeah. City shifter here, so you already know I’m fucked up. My animal was hard to control, and when I was a kid, I shifted as little as possible because I didn’t trust my animal. My dad didn’t like when I had to shift. He would drive me hours outside of the city and sleep in the car while I went on a little rampage through the woods once a month. He thought it was full-moon stuff, so that’s when we went.”

  “Jesus,” Logan murmured. “I can’t even imagine keeping my animal inside a whole month.”

  Winter snuggled closer and shrugged her shoulders up to her ears. “It wasn’t so bad when I got older because my dad found this underground job. A real hush-hush way for us to make money.”

  “How?” Logan asked in a dead voice.

  “It was like a freak show.” Her voice cracked on the last word, so she cleared her throat. She made her voice stronger as she continued. “I got to shift more in a controlled environment, and we made money.”

  “What kind of controlled environment?”

  Shame heated her cheeks. “A cage. I was part of the show. People could watch me shift. I would slow it down so they could get more for their money. It hurt, but we got to move to a better apartment after a couple of years.”

  Logan was shaking again, but not from nerves this time. She could tell by the slow scent of rage that tainted the air.