Page 19 of Marked For A Bite (Rebellious Mates #2)

SIXTEEN

LOGAN

L ogan woke up to the soft grey light of dawn filtering through his reinforced bedroom window.

Zoe's naked body was curled up against his chest like she'd been made to fit there.

Her dark curls spilled across his arm, and he could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing against his skin.

For a moment, he allowed himself to savor this.

Last night in the shower had been everything he'd never known he needed.

Raw, primal, and perfect. The way she'd taken control, the sounds she'd made, and how her body had responded to him—it had felt like coming home after a lifetime of wandering in the cold.

This was what mating was supposed to feel like, he realized.

Not just physical desire, but a completion that reached into the deepest parts of his soul.

He traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, wishing he could freeze this moment in amber.

Here, in his bed with morning light painting her skin golden, he could almost pretend they were just two people who'd found each other.

No prophecy hanging over their heads. No corrupt Council hunting hybrids.

No human operatives with orders to kill the person he'd finally allowed himself to love.

Just Logan and Zoe, safe in their own private world.

But the tactical part of his mind—the enforcer who'd survived fifteen years of violence and betrayal—wouldn't let him stay in that fantasy.

Today they would meet with Kieran, Maya, and Lena to plan their infiltration of wherever the ancient scroll was hidden.

Today Zoe would risk her life to fulfill some mystical destiny that could reshape their entire shifter world.

The thought made his chest tighten with fear.

He'd faced death countless times without flinching, but the idea of losing her made his blood turn to ice.

She was the key to everything—the prophecy, the rebellion, and the future of human and shifter relations.

But she was also his mate, the woman who'd somehow cracked through fifteen years of carefully constructed walls and made him want things he'd thought were dead inside him.

What if the scroll revealed something that would tear her away from him? What if fulfilling the prophecy meant sacrificing the one good thing that had ever happened to him?

His father and sister's faces flashed through his memory—the last two people he'd loved completely, lying still and cold that terrible night after the human hunters came. He'd been powerless to save them despite all his strength. The guilt still ate at him like acid.

Zoe stirred against his chest, her hazel eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. A sleepy smile curved her lips, and Logan felt his heart clench with the force of what he felt for her.

"Good morning," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long." He brushed a curl away from her face. "We need to get moving soon."

Her smile faded slightly as reality crashed back in. "Right. The hidden scroll mission."

"Unfortunately." Logan sat up, his mind already running through the day's requirements. "We need to be at Kieran's within the hour to finalize our insertion strategy."

Zoe stretched like a cat, and he glanced down at the partial bite on her delicate neck. His wolf stirred with possessiveness at the sight.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, nodding toward the mark. "Any discomfort there?

She reached up to touch the spot, her eyes growing thoughtful. "It tingles sometimes. And I can feel you more clearly through our bond—your emotions and your moods." Her gaze sharpened on his face. "Like right now. You're worried about more than just today's mission."

Logan didn't respond to her observation. Instead, he swung his legs out of bed, reaching for his black cargo pants and black boxers. "Get dressed. Something practical that won't restrict movement."

"Don't deflect." Zoe sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest. "Talk to me, Logan. What's really bothering you?"

He paused in putting on his boxers and pants, meeting her concerned gaze.

How could he explain that every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to lock her away somewhere safe?

That the thought of watching her walk into danger made him want to shift and tear apart everything that threatened her?

"I'm an enforcer, Zoe. My job is to eliminate threats, not send my mate into the heart of them.

" He grabbed a black henley from his dresser, his movements sharp with barely contained tension.

"But this prophecy, this ancient scroll—it requires your specific skills. And that doesn't sit well with me."

Zoe slipped from the bed, gloriously naked as she padded to her backpack with her clothes in it. "You can't protect me from my destiny, Logan. And you can't control every variable to guarantee my safety."

"Watch me try."

She pulled on her black leggings with quick, efficient movements. "Is that what this is about? Control? Or are you afraid I can't handle whatever we're walking into?"

Logan's jaw clenched tight as he strapped on his shoulder holster, checking his twin Glocks with practiced precision. "I've seen firsthand what happens when the people I love get caught in the crosshairs of pack politics. They end up dead."

The words hung between them like a blade, and Zoe's movements stilled. When she looked at him again, her eyes were soft with understanding.

"Your sister and father."

"They trusted me to help protect them too." Logan's voice came out rough. "And I failed."

Zoe crossed to him, fearless in her approach despite the darkness radiating from him. Her hands settled on his chest, right over his heart.

"What happened to them was not your fault." Her voice held steady conviction. "And I'm not them. I'm stronger than you think, and I'm not going into this blind. You've trained me well."

Logan covered her hands with his, the touch grounding him despite the storm raging in his mind. "Not well enough. We haven't even covered firearms yet."

"Then we stick to what I know." Zoe rose on her toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Knives, hand-to-hand combat, and shifting if necessary."

Logan moved to his weapons cabinet, retrieving a custom leather harness he'd crafted years ago but had sat unused. The straps and sheaths were designed for a smaller frame extending from shoulder to thigh—he'd made it during a bout of insomnia when thoughts of his sister had kept him awake.

"Turn around."

Zoe obeyed, and Logan began fitting the harness over her fitted black top.

The leather settled against her curves like it had been made specifically for her, which in a strange way, it had been.

He adjusted the straps with careful precision, ensuring the weight distribution wouldn't throw off her balance as he worked his way down her sides to her thighs.

"Two throwing knives on each thigh," he murmured, sliding the blades home in their sheaths. "Primary combat knife on your right hip. Backup on your left shoulder blade."

His fingers traced the path of each weapon as he secured them, and Zoe shivered at his touch.

"I feel like a warrior goddess."

"You look like my worst nightmare brought to life." Logan's voice held a mixture of pride and trepidation. "Promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me you won't try to be a hero today. We go in, get the scroll, and get out. No unnecessary risks."

Zoe turned in his arms, her hazel eyes blazing with determination. "I promise, as long as you promise me the same thing. No throwing yourself in front of danger to protect me unless it's absolutely necessary."

Logan opened his mouth to argue, but the look in her eyes stopped him. She was right—they were partners now, whether his protective instincts liked it or not.

"Deal," he said finally, sealing the promise with a brief, fierce kiss.

As they finished their preparations, Logan couldn't shake the feeling that everything was about to change irrevocably. Whatever they found in that scroll would reshape not just their world, but their relationship.

He just hoped they'd both survive to see what came next.

Logan adjusted the weight of his twin Glocks in their shoulder holster as they stepped out of his cabin into the crisp autumn morning.

The familiar pressure against his ribs provided a comforting reminder of his readiness for whatever they might encounter today.

His father's hunting knife, secured across his lower back, pressed against his spine with each step—a constant connection to the man who'd trained him to protect what mattered most.

Beside him, Zoe moved with newfound confidence despite the arsenal strapped to her lean frame.

The custom leather harness he'd fitted to her body distributed the weight of her weapons perfectly, and Logan felt a surge of pride watching her natural grace adapt to the tactical gear.

She looked lethal and beautiful—a combination that made his wolf preen with possession while his tactical brain cataloged every potential vulnerability.

"You're staring," Zoe observed, glancing sideways at him as they entered the forest path toward Kieran's cabin.

"I'm assessing," Logan corrected, though his gaze lingered on the way her ponytail swayed with each step. "Making sure the harness isn't restricting your movement at all."

"Uh-huh." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "And that assessment requires you to look at my curves?"

Logan's lips twitched despite his serious mood. "Tactical considerations. Your center of gravity is crucial for blade work."

"Right. Tactical." Zoe's nervous energy radiated through their bond like electricity, mixing anticipation with genuine excitement. "Tell me again why we didn't just drive to Kieran's? The human hunters clearly know I'm here."

"Because after last night's attack, we don't know how many of them are tracking us." Logan scanned the treeline automatically, his enhanced senses cataloging every sound and scent. "Walking gives us better awareness of our surroundings."

The increased security Kieran had promised was evident—Logan caught glimpses of pack sentries positioned throughout the forest, their presence deliberately visible as a deterrent.

It should have been reassuring, but Logan's protective instincts remained on high alert.

Too much depended on today's mission, and too many variables remained outside his control.

"You're wound tight as a spring," Zoe murmured, reaching out to brush her fingers against his hand. "I can feel your anxiety through our mate bond."

Logan caught her hand briefly, squeezing her fingers. "It's not anxiety. It's operational readiness."

"Call it whatever makes you feel better, but you're worried about me." She didn't flinch from his intense stare. "I can handle myself, Logan. You've made sure of that."

The rational part of his mind agreed—Zoe had absorbed his training with supernatural speed, mastering combat techniques that should have taken weeks to learn. But rational thought held no power over the primal fear that gripped him whenever he imagined her in danger.

Maybe that was his real terror—not that she couldn't protect herself, but that she could. That she'd become so capable and so powerful, she wouldn't need him anymore. The thought clawed at something deep in his chest.

Coward, his wolf growled. She's our mate. We're stronger together.

Last night's shifting session flooded back—the way their wolf forms had moved in perfect synchronization, and how her energy had enhanced his strength while his steadied hers. They'd been two halves of something ancient and unbreakable.

"We're here," Zoe said suddenly.

Logan knocked once on the heavy wooden door, the sound echoing in the morning stillness. Maya's voice called for them to enter, and Logan pushed inside, his hand instinctively moving toward his weapons until he identified everyone present.

Kieran stood near the stone fireplace, his commanding presence filling the room even in casual dark jeans and a forest- green henley. Maya sat at the dining table with maps spread before her. Lena perched in a chair nearby, her violet eyes bright with anticipation.

But it was the other man that made Logan's shoulders tense with surprise.

"Logan, Zoe," Kieran nodded toward the familiar looking man. "My younger brother Malcolm will be joining us today."

Malcolm Silvercrest rose from his chair with fluid grace—nearly as tall as Kieran but leaner, with the same silver-blue eyes and dark hair, though his hair was shorter than Kieran's longer style. Where Kieran projected Alpha authority, Malcolm emanated something more easy-going.

"The legendary Logan Cross," Malcolm extended his hand with a smile. "Your reputation precedes you."

Logan shook the offered hand, measuring the younger Silvercrest's grip. Strong, confident, with calluses that spoke of weapons training. "Malcolm. I haven't seen you since we were pups."

"I prefer to keep a low profile," Malcolm's gaze shifted to Zoe with obvious interest. "And you must be the new hybrid everyone's talking about. One of the keys to our little prophecy."

Zoe stepped closer to Logan instinctively. "That's what they tell me."

Logan didn't like the way Malcolm's eyes lingered on his mate.

"Now that we're all here," Maya interrupted, spreading another map across the table, "we can finalize our infiltration strategy."