Page 11

LOGAN

My muscles strained with each movement, sending familiar sharp pain lancing through my right side.

I ignored it, as I’d done for years, grinding my teeth against the burning sensation that never fully disappeared.

Tonight it seemed worse. As I loaded the last crate of evidence into the back of my truck, I paused, scanning the treeline for any sign of movement.

Nothing but trees rustling in the cold mountain breeze.

Sabrina locked the clinic door. Her hands trembled slightly as she pocketed the key, and my wolf surged forward, desperate to comfort her, protect her. The intensity of that instinct shook me to my core.

“You sure about this place?” she whispered, her eyes darting toward the darkened woods surrounding Angel Spring.

“No one knows about the cabin.” I kept my voice low, though we were alone in the parking lot. “We’ll be safe there.”

What I didn’t say was how my pulse quickened at the thought of being alone with her in that isolated space. Just the two of us, with no interruptions, no prying eyes. The thought both terrified and exhilarated me.

The drive through the forest was silent.

Headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating the rough dirt road ahead.

My wolf remained hypervigilant, catching scents my human side might miss, the musk of deer that had crossed the road hours earlier, the fresh pine sap from trees we passed, and beneath it all, the faint chemical odor that had begun to infect these woods.

But overpowering everything was Sabrina’s scent, growing more intoxicating by the hour.

The wolf recognized what my human side was still coming to terms with. Mate. My mate.

Beside me, Sabrina clutched her satchel of lab results against her chest like armor. I stole glances at her profile, noting the determined set of her jaw and the shadows of exhaustion beneath her eyes.

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Every instinct screamed at me to pull over, to wrap her in my arms until that worried crease between her eyebrows disappeared. Instead, I pressed harder on the accelerator.

The cabin appeared exactly as we’d left it.

Cold, slightly musty, but secure. While most saw a rustic hideaway on the outside, I knew the truth.

The windows were reinforced with bulletproof glass, a state-of-the-art security system surrounded the land, disguised as a simple wooden fence, and emergency supplies were hidden inside that could sustain us for weeks.

Another refuge I’d created, another fortress to lock myself away from the world.

While Sabrina meticulously unpacked the evidence, I built a fire in the stone hearth. Orange flames licked at the dry logs, creating shadows that danced across the wooden walls as warmth slowly filled the space.

When I turned around, Sabrina sat perched on the edge of the bed, her face buried in her hands. Her shoulders slumped forward. Something in my chest constricted painfully at the sight.

“Hey,” I said softly, crossing the room before I could think better of it. She didn’t look up, but I heard her breath hitch. I hesitated for a moment before sitting beside her, the mattress dipping under our combined weight. My hand hovered awkwardly before coming to rest on her back.

“I just…” Her voice emerged muffled through her fingers. “I can’t stop thinking about Marshall, about everyone who’s sick. What if we’re too late? What if we can’t stop her?”

My hand moved in slow circles against her spine, feeling the knots of tension through her shirt.

“We will.” The certainty in my voice surprised even me. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

She lifted her head then, eyes glistening with unshed tears, and my heart twisted. “I don’t feel strong right now.”

My fingers moved of their own accord, brushing a strand of dark hair from her face. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”

Something shifted in the air between us, like before a storm.

My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, whining with need.

The constant pain in my side dimmed, overshadowed by a different kind of ache coiling through my body.

Sabrina’s breath stopped as my hand lingered on her cheek, my thumb tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone.

Her eyes, those warm, intelligent eyes that saw through every defense I’d built, searched mine, and I felt the walls around my heart begin to crumble.

She’ll leave eventually. Everyone does. The thought flashed through my mind, a last desperate attempt at self-preservation. But looking at her now, firelight reflecting in her eyes, I couldn’t make myself believe it.

“I can’t lose you,” I murmured, the confession ripped from somewhere deep inside me. The truth of it hit me like a physical blow, stunning in its clarity.

“You won’t,” she whispered back, her voice trembling with emotion that matched the storm in my chest.

It was impossible to tell who moved first. One moment we were separated by inches of charged air, the next my arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her against me as my lips found hers.

The kiss was desperate, tender, a culmination of every glance and touch we’d shared since she’d arrived in Angel Spring.

Her hands clutched at my shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric as if anchoring herself to me.

The fire crackled behind us, drenching us in a golden glow as the world beyond the cabin walls ceased to exist. My hands slipped under the edge of her shirt, tracing the curve of her spine, feeling the warmth of her soft skin.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, nails scraping lightly against my scalp in a way that sent shivers straight down to my loins.

When we finally broke apart, our foreheads pressed together, our breaths mingling in the space between us. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I was certain she could feel it.

“I’ve never let anyone in like this before,” I admitted, my voice barely audible above the fire’s crackle.

Her lips turned up in a soft smile before pressing against mine again, feather-light. “Neither have I.”

We stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for what felt like hours. For now, the problems outside of this cabin ceased to exist. Firelight danced across her skin, turning it to gold, highlighting the contours of her face in a way that made my breath catch.

Sabrina’s shoulders trembled slightly, a sign of the fatigue that had been gnawing at her for hours.

Even with the fire roaring in the hearth, a chill seemed to cling to her, and it wasn’t just from the cool mountain air.

Her eyes shimmered with weariness, and my heart clenched at the sight.

Every inch of me ached to provide her comfort and warmth.

“You’re exhausted,” I murmured, my voice low and gentle. I ran my fingers lightly down her arm, feeling the goosebumps that prickled her skin. “And cold.”

Without waiting for her response, I stood up, not willing to let her shiver any longer.

I crossed the room to the small bathroom, where the clawfoot tub had always seemed indulgent until now.

I twisted the shiny brass knobs until the porcelain tub began to fill with hot water.

The steam rose in curls, carrying with it the faint scent of sandalwood and musky amber from the bath salts scattered on a shelf.

As I turned back toward the bedroom, I caught the reflection of Sabrina’s face in the mirror above the sink. She was watching me, her eyes heavy with a mix of gratitude and something more intense. Something that made the air between us hum with electricity.

I returned to her, the sound of the running water filling the otherwise silent cabin. Sabrina had moved to the edge of the couch, her eyes locked onto mine as I approached.

“Come,” I said softly, reaching out my hand. “I’ve run you a bath.”

Sabrina slipped her hand into mine, her fingers cold against my warm palm. I led her to the bathroom, the steam from the bath wrapping around us like a tender embrace. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flickering between the bath and me, before taking a step closer.

“Logan,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water.

Before I could respond, she pressed her lips to mine, the kiss slow and deep.

The sensation of her mouth against mine sent a surge of heat through my body, igniting a fire within me that rivaled the one burning in the hearth.

Sabrina’s hands slid up my chest, her fingers tracing the contours of my muscles through my shirt. I could feel the tension in her body melt away, replaced by a hunger that matched my own. The steam from the bath enveloped us, creating a cocoon of warmth and desire.

When she pulled back, her eyes were dark with passion, and a small, secretive smile played on her lips. “I think this bath might be big enough for two.”

My breath caught as the invitation in her eyes was unmistakable. The thought of joining her in the bath, of feeling her skin slippery and slick with water, sent a rush of primal desire through me. My wolf howled within, eager to claim his mate.

“Sabrina,” I whispered, my voice ragged with need. It was all the answer she needed.

She undressed me slowly, her touch lingering on every bruise and scar. Each caress was a silent promise of healing, of acceptance. I stood still, letting her take the lead even as my wolf growled with impatience, wanting nothing more than to claim her, to make her mine completely.

When I was finally bare before her, the cold washroom air contrasting sharply with the heat of the bath, Sabrina’s eyes met mine.

There was a vulnerability in her gaze, but also wanton desire that sent a jolt of possessiveness through me.

Reverently, I returned the favor, revealing her body bit by bit until all of her creamy skin glowed under the flickering light from the fire.