Page 95 of Bound in Blood
Logan’s throat went dry.
He’d feel better if Alexei were here. If Logan had one more advocate for keeping the poor creature alive before he opened that door.
Oh well.
He took a step toward the door.
Marco caught his arm immediately. “Logan…”
Logan gently pried his arm out of Marco’s grasp. “I just want to see if I can reason with him.”
“He’s dangerous,” Mateo warned.
Logan’s jaw clenched. “I’m stronger than I look.”
Neither of them looked entirely convinced, but Marco sighed and stepped back, putting his hands up in surrender. “Just, please, be careful.”
Logan nodded, smiling weakly at them before turning back toward the door. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he hated that both Marco and Mateo could definitely hear it. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. More like… anxious anticipation. Curiosity that needed a little danger to be sated. And his mates, his wonderful, understanding mates, knew heneededto do this, even though they thought it was a bad idea.
AnotherBANGechoed through the bar, followed by a low, pained sound. Logan thought back to how in the alley, he’d almost looked like a scared kid, and for a moment he wondered if the feral wasn’t mad, but afraid of the dark. Except… he had night vision. So maybe Logan was just humanizing an angry bloodthirsty monster.
He inhaled sharply, squared his shoulders, and reached for the handle.
The metal was ice cold and sticky with blood beneath his fingers as he twisted it open. The heavy door creaked a bit as it swung outward, and the smell that had been contained by the thick walls hit him all at once. Blood and sweat and somethingelse… something that smelled distinctly of rotting flesh and something Logan couldn’t name.
The feral had retreated to the farthest corner of the cooler, perched on top of a box of expired chicken wings, half cloaked in shadow. His whole body was coiled tight, like how a cat sat right before they jumped.
He was still in the same clothes as a few nights before, only they had become impossibly bloodier. His fangs protruded from where his lips were slightly parted. This close, Logan could see the little indents on his lips, like his fangs had been out for so long that they’d permanently worn down the skin there.
But it was hiseyesthat stopped Logan in his tracks.
They flickered wildly, black, blue, black-blue, like a frayed electrical wire sparking unpredictably. His pupils were blown wide, his gaze sharp but unfocused, like he was staringthroughLogan. Searching for something that wasn’t there.
For a long moment, nobody moved.
The cooler hummed softly around them, the only sound in the thick, charged silence. The feral’s chest rose and fell in sharp uneven breaths, which Logan was pretty sure was more from fear than necessity. His fingers were twitching anxiously on the box beneath him, dirt and blood caked nails scraping against the cardboard.
Logan remembered as a kid, his grandpa taught him to hold his hand low and palm up to a skittish animal to show it you meant no harm. He found himself doing the same for the feral now, though he wasn’t sure why. This wasn’t a barn cat he was trying to pet.
He moved slowly, crouching at the knees just a bit to make himself smaller. Slow, nonthreatening. Easy. “Hey,” he said, voice calm and careful, “It’s all right. Nobody is going to hurt you.”
The feral’s nostrils flared, head twitching slightly. His eyes still flickered like a broken bulb.
Without turning away from the feral, Logan called out to Marco and Mateo, who were trying their best to give Logan space, but were still hovering just beyond the door. “Do you see what I mean? About the fear?”
It was Mateo who answered back, “Yes, but I’d like to argue he looked much more put together when he tried to kill us.”
The feral’s gaze flicked toward the sound of Mateo’s voice, head snapping in a jerky, animalistic movement. His pupils flared, lips parting slightly, maybe in recognition or confusion or just in reaction to the sound of a voice that once belonged to prey.
Logan felt flickers of concern through the bond, and he knew he needed to wrap this up quickly. Yes, Marco and Mateo respected his agency, but they were still overly protective assholes that would burn this bar down before letting the feral harm a hair on Logan’s head.
“O-kay,” Logan said slowly, eyes still only on the feral. He watched the way his breathing hitched, the subtle way his fingers curled tighter into his palms, as if something in him understood what Mateo had said, even if his mind couldn’t process it.
“Do you remember them?” Logan asked, voice softer now.Do you remember anything?
The feral’s jaw clenched and unclenched nervously. The muscles in his throat worked, almost like he was trying to form words. His mouth opened, just slightly, then shut again, lips pressing into a thin, tense line.
Logan waited patiently.
