Page 5 of Marked For A Bite (Rebellious Mates #2)

FOUR

LOGAN

L ogan retrieved his gear from the asphalt where it had scattered during his transformation as the cool mountain air raised goosebumps across his bare skin.

His bulletproof vest lay discarded by his two guns, three knives, and holsters near the two dead human hunters.

He gathered the pieces with mechanical efficiency while his wolf prowled restlessly, still high on the scent of Zoe's adrenaline and the primal satisfaction of protecting their mate.

Their mate. The thought sent heat spiraling through his chest even as he fought it.

He'd planned to take her straight to his cabin—isolated, secure, and defensible.

But now, with the mate bond singing in his veins and her scent wrapped around him like a drug, he couldn't trust himself alone with her.

Not yet. The safehouse outside Silvercrest territory would have to suffice until he could get his head screwed on straight.

Logan popped the Jeep's trunk and pulled out his spare clothes—dark jeans, grey henley, fresh socks, boxers, and boots. He dressed quickly, hyperaware of Zoe's eyes tracking his movements with a burning intensity that made his blood run hot.

"You keep spare clothes in your car?" Her voice held a slight tremor that could have been residual adrenaline or something else entirely.

"Occupational hazard." Logan slammed the trunk shut and slid into the driver's seat. "Shifting tends to be hell on fabric."

The Jeep's engine purred to life, and he pulled back onto the mountain highway, heading north toward the safehouse. Three hours of mountain roads stretched ahead of them, three hours of being trapped in close quarters with a woman who smelled like home and drove his wolf to distraction.

"Okay, enough cryptic responses." Zoe twisted in her seat to face him, her blood-splattered hoodie pulling tight across her curves.

"What the hell is really happening? Those men called me a target, you shifted into a wolf the size of a pony, and I grew sharp claws and killed someone.

" Her voice rose with each word. "I need answers, Logan. Real ones."

Logan kept his eyes on the winding road, his hands gripping the wheel with controlled precision. "You're a hybrid wolf shifter. Obviously, one of your parents was human and the other was a wolf shifter."

"My mother left me a letter." Zoe dug through her backpack with shaking hands. "It said my father was a wolf shifter and that I was about to manifest." She paused as she pulled out the letter. "She had made me promise not to open this until my twenty-fifth birthday."

"Which was?"

"Two days ago. The day of my breakdown at the museum." She then pulled out a photograph, holding it toward him. "This is my mom. Beautiful, right? She died a year ago. Heart attack, completely unexpected."

Logan glanced at the photo—a stunning black woman with warm brown eyes and laugh lines, her arm wrapped around a younger Zoe. Something cold settled in his stomach at the mention of an unexpected death, but he filed that concern away for later analysis.

"She never talked about your father?"

"She always said he was dead. Made it sound like some tragic love story she couldn't bear to discuss." Zoe pulled out another photograph. "But I found this hidden in her jewelry box after she died."

This time Logan looked longer, taking in the image of a white man with icy blue eyes and sharp features. Everything about the man's stance screamed predator—the way he held himself, the alertness in his gaze, and the barely contained power that even a photograph couldn't hide.

"Definitely a wolf shifter," Logan confirmed. "I'm surprised you never suspected anything."

"I always thought the weird mild episodes were hormone-related since they began during puberty.

And I thought the more recent powerful ones were related to my grief.

Or maybe even that I was going crazy." Zoe's laugh held no humor.

"They started escalating a few weeks ago.

At first it was just feeling restless and angry.

Then my teeth and nails started changing.

When you found me, I was ready to commit myself to a psychiatric facility. "

The thought of her locked away, drugged and helpless while hunters tracked her scent, made Logan's jaw clench.

"The episodes are your wolf trying to emerge. Hybrids fully manifest later than full-bloods, usually around twenty-five. Your human side has been suppressing your shifter nature, but now that you've reached maturity, there's no stopping it."

"So what happens now?" Her voice held a vulnerable note that made his chest tighten. "Where are you taking me?"

"Safehouse. There are people there who can help you learn control and teach you about wolf shifter society." Logan navigated a sharp curve, his headlights cutting through the darkness. "You'll be safe there."

"Will you be staying? To help me?"

The hope in her voice nearly undid him. Logan's wolf demanded he promise her everything—protection, permanence, and claiming. But his logical mind knew better.

"I work alone. Travel a lot for missions. My duties?—"

"What duties?" Zoe interrupted, frustration bleeding into her tone. "You say you're an enforcer, but what does that actually mean?"

Logan considered how much truth she could handle. "I handle problems for my pack and our wolf shifter kind. Situations that require a particular skill set."

"You mean you kill people."

"When necessary."

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken implications. Finally, Zoe spoke again, her voice smaller.

"I need your help, Logan. I don't trust anyone right now, but for some reason I trust you. Even though logically I shouldn't trust a man who broke into my house and kills people for a living."

Because you're my mate, his wolf snarled. Because every instinct you have recognizes what we are to each other.

But Logan couldn't tell her that. Not yet. Not when he was still reeling from the implications himself.

"You'll have help," he said finally. "Good people who understand what you're going through."

"But not you," she said, crossing her arms and turning to look out the window.

The disappointment in her voice made his chest ache, but Logan tried to focus on the road ahead. Three hours to the safehouse. Three hours to figure out how to walk away from his mate before the bond drove him to do something they might both regret.

Logan's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter as Zoe's scent wrapped around him in the confines of his Jeep.

She'd been asleep for the past hour, curled in the passenger seat with her face turned toward him, and every soft breath she exhaled was pure torture.

The mate bond hummed between them, demanding he pull over and claim her.

She killed for you, his wolf growled, pacing restlessly in his mind. Protected you. Defended you when that hunter had his weapon raised.

The memory of Zoe launching herself at that operative with partially shifted claws and fierce determination made heat flood through him.

No one had ever killed for him before. Hell, no one had ever wanted to protect him.

He was the weapon other people pointed at their problems, the monster they unleashed when things got messy.

But Zoe had seen him in danger and hadn't hesitated. She'd moved with instincts she didn't understand, driven by something deeper than logic or self-preservation. The same something that made his wolf recognize her as his .

Logan cursed under his breath and forced his attention back to the winding mountain road. Thirty more minutes to the safehouse. Thirty minutes to get his head straight and remember this was just a mission.

Just a mission, he repeated silently, but the words felt hollow. Kieran had been clear—extract the target, do whatever it takes, and bring her back alive. Nothing about claiming her as a mate. Nothing about the bond that now sang in Logan's blood like a drug.

He'd signed up for the enforcer role a decade ago, knowing full well what it would cost him.

The violence, the isolation, and the blood on his hands that would never wash clean.

He'd accepted it all because someone had to do the dark work, and he was better equipped than most to carry that heavy burden.

But now? Christ, now he had a mate who'd already proven she'd throw herself into danger for him. The thought of Zoe anywhere near his world of violence and death made his jaw clench with protective fury.

She stirred in the passenger seat, making a soft sound that went straight to his groin. Even in sleep, her body responded to his proximity—her breathing had synchronized with his, and he could scent the subtle arousal that clung to her skin whenever he was near.

Mine, his wolf growled with possessive satisfaction.

Logan's tactical mind ran through the possibilities like a chess game. He could walk away after delivering her to the safehouse. Let Kieran handle her integration into pack life, her training, and her safety. It would be the smart play, the logical choice.

Except the memory of hurt in her soft voice when she'd realized he wouldn't be staying haunted him. The way her hazel eyes had dimmed when he'd deflected her trust and her hope that he might stick around to help her navigate this new world.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, navigating another sharp curve.

The truth was, his world had tilted off its axis the moment he'd touched her face. Ten years of careful emotional control, of keeping everyone at arm's length, and one hybrid wolf shifter had shattered it all with a single touch.

How the hell was he supposed to hand her over to Kieran and just walk away? How was he supposed to pretend the mate bond didn't exist when every cell in his body told him to claim her, protect her, and keep her?

And what would Kieran say when he discovered his top enforcer had found his fated mate during what should have been a simple extraction mission?