by Lila Kane
“Logan‒”
“No, listen. I want you to kiss me, and I don’t want to influence you to do it.” He leans in, lips brushing my cheek as he whispers in my ear. “No tricks, no spells, no mind control. Just you and me‒and how badly we want each other.”
He closes the rest of the gap between us, arms tight around me and lips trailing down my neck.
I arch back, letting him continue his kisses across my collarbone. He’s not influencing me, I can tell. And I still can’t form the words to tell him to stop.
“I want you,” Logan says thickly. His hands find their way under my shirt, hiking it up so it rises over my stomach, and then higher. “Willow.”
When I press against him, I can feel the heat from his jeans, the hardness there. I want him, too. I want my hands all over him.
One of Logan’s hands reaches behind me, cupping my butt. I freeze. Ryan’s card is in there. I can’t let him find that just in case I need it. I press my palms on Logan’s chest.
“No, Logan. I can’t do this.”
He looks at me, eyes cloudy with desire. I’m still throbbing with need, but this isn’t right. I’m not supposed to be here. His grip loosens and I step back.
I hit the wall and stay there a minute. He props his hand next to my head, looking at his shoes. His breathing is heavy and I wait while he composes himself. When he looks up, his expression is pained.
“Okay,” he says, straightening. “It’s your call. I can be patient. Maybe we should have breakfast.”
I nod. Breakfast is good. Normal.
He walks to the kitchen and I follow. Inside, the windows are tall and wide, lighting the space and giving us a nice view of a well-manicured lawn and healthy hedges. There’s a wide island with stools lined on one side, and a table in a nook. It’s loaded with a spread of food that makes my stomach rumble.
Logan laughs and gestures to a chair. “Have a seat.”
“You made all this?” I ask, surprised. I settle in a chair that gives me a view of the outside, a place I hope I’ll see before this day is over.
He sits across from me. “I was up early.”
“I didn’t know you were so…domestic.”
This makes him smile. He pours orange juice in my glass. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Willow. I hope you’ll take the time to find out.”
I ignore the comment. The only thing I want to find is a way out of his house. But I hate that something this simple, this normal, intrigued me for a minute. That there might be something good, or at least ordinary and comforting, about Logan.
We scoop food onto our plates and I silently plot when I’m going to be able to try to reach Ryan again. If I can’t, I have to find a way out of here by myself, and that’s not going to be easy. Unless Logan will give me some space.
I clear my throat. “I’d like to see the journals again. From the library. And my mother’s book.”
His eyes narrow. “What for?”
“So I can learn more about the spell and the curse. I don’t want to…work toward something if I don’t know what it is.”
He spears a piece of cantaloupe and points his fork at me. “You don’t really have a choice. You’re doing this spell for me.”
He pops the fruit into his mouth as I frown. Just as I thought he might be a halfway decent human being, he reminds me he’s not. He’s a monster.
I clench my hand hard on the fork and stab the fluffy scrambled eggs, which are surprisingly good considering they’re made by a vampire. “Still,” I say, keeping my voice even, “I’m going to need to see the books to do the spell.”
“You’re a little unpredictable, so that might not be a good idea.” He nods when I stare at him. “I can see the wheels turning in your head. You’re plotting how to get out of here right now. Maybe we should wait on the spell book.”
I have a better chance of getting out of here from the library than from his bedroom, so I have to keep trying.
“Maybe I…” I shrug, biting into my toast.
“Maybe you what?”
“Maybe I could take a shower and get cleaned up, and it’ll give you time to figure out what I’m supposed to do here all day.”
“A shower.” He grins. “That sounds like a great idea.”
“Alone,” I say.
“Not quite as much fun.” But then he shrugs, giving in, and I’m hit with another flicker of surprise. “You’re welcome to use the shower whenever you’re ready.”
“Thanks.”
It’ll be the perfect opportunity to try to reach Ryan again. When I’m behind a closed door, pretending to take a long, warm shower. Alone.
I stand, eager to make my next move.
“You don’t want any more breakfast?” He stops with his fork halfway to his mouth. He gestures to the seat I just vacated. “You should have more. You need your energy if you want to go over those spells.”
He’s going to let me see the books? I sit at the table again. Might as well humor him until I can get what I want.
#
Upstairs in Logan’s bathroom, I turn on the shower, both heads in the large space spraying hot water. There are towels folded on the counter and some of the toiletries he’d retrieved from my bag at the hotel.
If Logan weren’t such a lunatic, I’d be dying of happiness in his house right now. The breakfast was wonderful, the house gorgeous, and the shower bigger than the entire bathroom back at the motel.
But instead of getting in, I sit on a nearby stool and pull Ryan’s card out of my pocket. It’s crinkled from the last time I used it, and I close my eyes, trying to focus my energy. I have no idea where Ryan is now, so I picture his car again. I find it parked along Main Street, and appear in the passenger seat once more.
He’s not in here with me. I spin around in the seat, looking at a dozen stores around me. Where is he? I can’t just go wandering around‒other people might see me. It’ll look like a ghost is traveling the downtown streets.
My eyes freeze on the library. He could be in there.
I blow out a breath and focus on the building, picturing myself inside, in the back room where I set the book on fire. And all the sudden I’m there.
And it’s dark.
There’s only dim light coming from the front of the building. I listen for sounds as I walk in that direction but don’t hear anything. When I find the desk at front, no one is there. The door is closed and it doesn’t look like anyone has been in all day.
Maybe Cheyenne doesn’t open the library on Sundays. Or maybe she’s helping Ryan find me.
I bring myself back to the bathroom. I can’t check every single store on Main Street. And if I picture Ryan instead of his truck, I might show up across the booth from him in a very busy diner or something. That wouldn’t be good.
With a sigh, I strip off my clothes and get into the shower. The water burns on a few cuts and scrapes I have from running through the forest, but it feels heavenly. I take my time scrubbing my hair and soaking up the heat. I try not to think of how Logan’s been in this same shower. How his eyes are so hungry when they meet mine. And how it’s such a bad idea for me to be around him when part of me wants to kill him and part of me wants to ravish him.
When I step out, I wrap a towel around my head and one around my body. I leave the bathroom, prepared to find my bag and get some fresh clothes when I see Logan standing just inside the doorway.
I yank in a breath, clasping my hand at the top of the towel over my chest. “What are you doing in here?”
“You were taking a long time. I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“You mean, you wanted to make sure I wasn’t trying to escape.”
His smile is dangerous. “Maybe that’s part of it. You…” He shakes his head, eyes raking my body. They sweep all the way down my legs before shooting back up to my eyes. “You don’t make it easy for me to keep my distance.”
I harden my jaw. “Try.”
He doesn’t. Instead, he strolls forward. I hol
d my ground and this seems to amuse him. “I don’t want to,” he says, voice low and deep.
“Logan.” I hold out a hand, pressing it against his chest in an effort to get him to stop. “You said you wouldn’t do anything‒you wouldn’t influence me.”
“I’m not,” he murmurs, curling his fingers around my wrist. He brings my fingertips to his lips, kissing each one. “Take off your towel.”
My heart shoots straight into my ribcage, and my stomach clenches. “Logan.”
“I meant this,” he says, unwinding the towel from my head. He tosses it on the bed.
My hair is long and wavy, spilling over my shoulders and dripping water down my shoulders.
He smiles. “That’s better.”
He runs his fingers through the ends and my knees shake. He’s barely even touching me and I can hardly stand up. My body throbs with need, hands aching to grab him and take everything.
Logan steps back and I exhale.
“I told you I can be patient.” He walks to the door. “So I will. Why don’t you finish up and meet me downstairs?”
I make myself nod, and watch as he leaves the room. I curl my fingers around the towel still on my body and swallow. I was practically ready to throw myself at him. And he was right, he wasn’t doing anything.
Just standing there, dark hair, sexy, all man. And my knees quiver.
Frowning at myself, I get dressed quickly and tell myself to keep calm. I have a plan. And as soon as Logan will let me carry it out, I will.
Chapter 12
Logan waits for me at the bottom of the stairs. When he sees me, he says, “Let’s go for a walk.”
Not in my plans. I need to be alone so I can find Ryan. But I don’t want Logan to get suspicious, so I smile and nod.
“Good.”
He takes my hand before I can stop him and guides me to the kitchen. We exit through a side door made of glass‒a great place to escape if I need to‒and walk to the gardens.
“My great-great-grandparents built this place,” Logan says, strolling next to me with easy strides. “They were in love, so I hear. So deep in love, in fact, that when my great-great-grandfather, the first Meyer in Shadow Hill was injured in war, my great-great-grandmother did a spell to save him. She was a witch.” He looks over with a smile. “Like you.”
“What did the spell do?” I can’t fathom that much power. Sometimes it’s all I can do to get through the day without setting anything on fire.
“It brought him back from the dead,” Logan says. He turns us toward the trees on the side of the property, my hand still firm and warm in his. “But not without consequences.”
“He became a vampire.”
Logan glances over with a slight nod. “He became a vampire. If that’s what you want to call it.”
“What would you call it?” I ask.
“It’s complicated.” He stops, curls his arm around my waist and turns his lips to my neck. “If you want to know if we…bite…” I shiver when his mouth touches just below my earlobe. “The answer is yes. If you want to know if we can be out in the sunlight.” He tips his gaze to the sky, which is only partially clouded over. “The answer is yes.”
“Garlic?” I ask quietly when he kisses my neck again.
“You mean is it lethal? No. But good on pizza, which I’m making for an early dinner.”
“I don’t…” I push at his chest. “I can’t concentrate when you do that.”
“That’s the point.” But he steps away. “Do you want to go back?”
I nod. He takes my hand again and leads me to the house. Inside, he says, “We can look at those books now.”
I release my breath, grateful. But when we get to the library, he doesn’t leave me alone. He lingers, pacing by the window with his hands behind his back. It’s hard to focus. I don’t know what else to do besides somehow conjure fire, which I’m not sure I know how to do without getting upset, or get Logan out of here so I can try to find Ryan again.
“You don’t have to wait in here with me,” I say, my voice sounding loud and awkward in the large room.
He strolls over, hands behind his back, and ignores my comment. He stops at a shelf near the table I’m sitting at and pulls down an old book. “Try this one.”
I take it from him, pushing the Book of Shadows aside. I have no idea how I’m supposed to hunt down some old spell that cursed Logan’s bloodline and all the other paranormal bloodlines in this town, so I might as well start with history.
For a while, I can hear Logan walking back and forth behind me as I read, but then I get so lost in the journal, I tune it out.
Once Logan’s great-great-grandmother, Ruby, did the spell that turned her husband into a vampire, she was shunned by the witch community. The vampires were also pitted as immediate enemies against the other paranormal groups already living in the area. Werewolves.
I think about Cheyenne and wonder if Logan knows who she really is. Or what Ryan really is. But I’m afraid to mention it to Logan, even to get answers. I don’t want to clue him in that I might have outside help.
After Ruby was ostracized by her kind, all the witches including my ancestor Selena, she gave into the dark side and became a vampire like her husband.
I look up and find Logan leaning against the same shelf, watching me.
“What happened?” I ask. He angles his head. “With your great-great grandparents? Are they…still alive?”
He shakes his head.
“So you…your kind…” I fumble with my question and look down at the journal. “You can’t live forever? Is that just a myth?”
He pushes away from the shelf and sits in the chair across from me. “It’s not just a myth. But that’s not how things are now. Not after the curse.” He rubs a hand along his jaw, eyes thoughtful. “Our abilities…the benefits of being what we are, they’re dulled. In some respects even non-existent.”
“So you’re not, you know‒”
“Immortal?” He smiles. “Will it make you happy if I say no?”
I give a wry grin. “Maybe.”
His laughter bounds off the high ceiling. “But I still get the perks.”
“What are those?”
“You want me to tell you all my secrets?”
I lean in, my lips curving. “Come on, Logan. You know way more about me than I know about you.”
He copies my motion, stopping when our lips are just inches apart. “There’s so much more I want to know.”
“Why do you always do that?”
“What?”
I frown. “Dodge my questions? You’re not giving me much here, for someone who wants a hell of a lot in return.”
Logan considers this for a long moment, then says, “I can heal quicker than normal.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
That’s good information to know. Then he takes it a step further with a grin.
“That means I have certain, uh…powers of rejuvenation.” His tone is suggestive. “If you know what I mean.”
And I can’t help but see a flash of him shirtless, muscles toned and strong. Or think of him covering my naked body with his, fingers racing like fire over my skin. Filling me with everything he is. Over and over again.
My throat dries.
“I think we need to take a break,” Logan says, tapping the journal. “From reading.”
I glance at my watch. It’s already early afternoon. I don’t have much time, especially not if Logan wants to spend the entire day in the library with me.
I wave him off. “You go ahead. I’m going to keep reading.”
But he won’t give up. He grabs my hand and hauls me to my feet, pulling me to the kitchen where he actually makes pizza dough while I sip a soda and watch him with a mixture of concern and amazement.
“I have to let it rise,” he says, dropping the ball of dough into a deep bowl. He runs a thin white towel under the water at the sink before settling it over the top of the bowl. “That way I can ma
ke dinner for us in a few hours.”
I’m still torn between amazement and concern. I can’t believe he’s making homemade dough for our pizza. I also can’t get past the fact I have so little time to get out of here. The full moon is tonight. How long do I have? All the way until midnight? Or not even that long?
“You…” I shake my head. “How old are you again?”
He laughs. “I’m legal.”
But he seems a lot worldlier than someone his age should. “Where did you learn to cook?”
Logan looks away. “My sister.”
I shift on the stool at the counter. “You have a sister?”
“And a brother.” He comes around to the other side of the island where I sit. He puts his hands on either side of me, trapping me against the counter. “It’s no fun talking about family. Let’s do something else.”
His boyish grin reminds me that he is, indeed, just a young guy, close to my age. And we both have so much of our lives ahead of us. So what does he need this spell for really? So he can be a vampire‒a true vampire like his great-great-grandparents? Or is that even how it works?
But I can’t forget the fact he seems to be hiding something. Even Logan Meyer has skeletons in his closet‒or at least secrets‒that he doesn’t want others to know.
“We should be figuring out the spell, right?” I ask.
He sighs like I’m way too serious, but shadows me back to the library, where he hands me more history books. It seems like he’s trying to stop me from reading the Book of Shadows for now. Maybe that’s a smart move on his part since I’ve already figured out how to contact Ryan once.
But Logan can’t know that, can he? Or does he suspect something, and that’s why he’s following me so closely, not leaving my side?
When he decides to make dinner, he drags me along with him, setting me down with a beer and ingredients and telling me to decorate my own pizza. Even as my mind is whirling with ways to get out of here, I’m drawn into a conversation with him. I’m drawn to his laughter as we work together to make dinner.
“Here,” Logan says, sliding me another beer when I finish mine.
I shake my head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
