Page 17 of Marked For A Bite
"Only when it matters," Logan replied, his tone dry.
She laughed softly, and Logan felt something tighten deep in his chest. He quickly turned away, his hands clenched to keep from reaching for her.
"Get some sleep," he said, his voice firm. "We'll figure this out in the morning."
Zoe nodded, but her eyes lingered on him as he walked out of the bedroom. He hated walking away from her. Hated leaving her in his bed while he slept on the couch. But he had to stay smart and had to think clearly. Desire wouldn't control him, no matter how much he wanted her.
SEVEN
ZOE
Sunlight filtered through the reinforced window of Logan's bedroom, casting golden patterns across his dark sheets. Zoe stretched languidly, her body feeling more rested than it had in days. For the first time since her birthday—since this nightmare began—she'd slept without the fear of losing control.
Logan's scent was everywhere. Mountain rain and something uniquely masculine that made her wolf hum with contentment. She buried her face deeper into his pillow, breathing him in. The restless energy that had plagued her for weeks was gone, replaced by something warmer and more settled. Being here, surrounded by his essence, felt like coming home to a place she'd never known existed.
The memory of their kiss last night sent heat spiraling through her body. The way he'd pulled back, how his control hung by a thread, and his green eyes darkened with hunger. He'd wanted her—she felt it in every tense line of his body and heard it in the roughness of his voice. But he was holding back, convinced he was protecting her somehow.
Stubborn alpha male.
Zoe smiled, rolling onto her back and staring up at the wooden ceiling. He thought his dangerous life was somethingshe couldn't handle, and that claiming her would somehow put her in more danger. But danger was already hunting her. Those human operatives at her house proved that. And honestly? She'd rather face whatever came next with Logan by her side than hide away with strangers at some safehouse.
Her wolf stirred beneath her skin, not with the violent, uncontrolled energy of the past few days, but with something deeper. A knowing. Logan was hers, and she was his. Ever since yesterday, she has felt some kind of unexplainable bond with him. Something tangible and primal, and it hummed between them like electricity.
She pulled herself from the warmth of his bed, reluctantly leaving behind the cocoon of his scent. Her backpack sat where she'd dropped it the night before, and she rifled through it, selecting a cream sweater that hugged her curves and dark jeans. She left her hair down, knowing from the way his eyes darkened when her curls caught the light that he liked it that way.
The cabin was quiet as she padded down the narrow hallway toward the living room, her bare feet silent on the hardwood floors. She expected to find him sprawled across the couch, possibly still asleep, but the sight that greeted her made her pulse quicken.
Logan stood with his back to her, shirtless, his powerful frame silhouetted against the morning light streaming through the reinforced windows. A mug of coffee steamed in his hand, and she could see the intricate map of scars across his shoulders and back—evidence of battles fought and survived. His dark auburn hair was tousled from sleep, and when he turned at the sound of her approach, those deep green eyes swept over her with a burning intensity that made her breath hitch.
"Morning," he said, his deep voice rough with sleep and something darker. "Coffee's fresh."
She moved closer, hyperaware of the way his gaze tracked her movement, and the way his jaw tightened when she got within arm's reach. "Did you sleep at all?"
"Some." He handed her a mug, their fingers brushing in the exchange. The contact sent sparks racing up her arm, and she saw his pupils dilate in response. "You?"
"Better than I have in days." She took a sip of the coffee, rich and strong, then looked up at him through her lashes. "Your bed is very comfortable."
His knuckles went white around his mug. "Glad you got some rest."
The formal politeness in his tone made her want to laugh. He was trying so hard to maintain distance, but the bond between them crackled like a live wire. She could practically feel his wolf clawing beneath his skin, demanding he close the space between them.
"Logan." She set her mug down on the kitchen counter and stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. "We need to talk."
His jaw worked, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. "About?"
"About the fact that you're standing there half-naked, looking at me like you want to devour me, while trying to pretend you're not affected." She reached up, her fingertips barely grazing the scar that ran across his collarbone. "About the fact that we're mates, and you're fighting it."
He caught her wrist, his grip firm but gentle. "Zoe?—"
"No." She pulled free, her chin lifting with that stubborn defiance that seemed to both frustrate and fascinate him. "You keep telling me I don't know what I'm getting into, but you're wrong. I know exactly what I want."
His control visibly frayed, his breathing roughening. "And what's that?"
She stepped closer, eliminating the last inch of space between them, her body nearly flush against his. "You."
The coffee mug slipped from Logan's fingers as Zoe pressed her body against his, the ceramic hitting the counter with a soft clink. His hands found her waist, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of her cream sweater as she pulled his head down to meet hers.
The kiss ignited something primal between them. Her lips moved against his with desperate hunger, and Logan's control finally crumbled like ash. His hand tangled in her dark curls, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Their tongues met in a dance that spoke of claiming and surrender, and of a bond that refused to be denied.
