Page 29 of Pretty Vengeful Queen

Logan nods, his touch becoming sure and firm again, and I tilt my chin back to give him better access as he methodically works his way down my throat, checking and disinfecting everywhere Austin touched me.

When he reaches the loose collar of my shirt, his fingers lightly skimming my collarbone. “I need this off.”

I do it, removing my bra too, then I stand to wiggle out of my pants while I’m at it.

Logan frames my hips with his hands, his lips tightening so much that they turn white now that he can see the full extent of what Austin did to me.

Then he does his best to erase it, systematically examining every mark that bastard left and treating it in some way, even the ones that don’t really hurt. It’s like Logan can’t handle the thought of any trace of that bastard’s hands on my body, and I’m more than fine with that. His possessive determination feeds into all the emotions that have been so close to the surface ever since my men came for me at the exchange.

Logan stays seated in front of me, his blond hair perfectly combed, utterly silent and completely clinical as his hands move across my body. Every touch is precise and controlled in a way that affects me just as much as Maddoc’s possessive aggression did earlier.

He runs his fingers over the outer curve of my left breast, then down over the angry red skin covering my ribcage. “This is new. The bruises haven’t darkened yet.”

“It just happened this morning.”

Logan’s lips tighten again, his fingers digging into my ribs a little.

I flinch, and his eyes snap up to mine, his hand going still. “Does it hurt?”

I nod. “But it’s okay. They’re just bruised, not broken.”

He runs firm fingers over every single one of my ribs, as if he needs to prove it to himself. I take a deep breath in to show him, and itdoeshurt, but there’s none of the sharp, stabbing pain that would mean Austin had managed to crack a few.

Finally, Logan nods, as if satisfied that I’m right. He’s staring at one of the blooming bruises on my stomach, and he leaves his fingers pressed against it for another moment before abruptly pulling them away.

“A soak in the bathtub will help. I have Epsom salts.” He looks up at me again. “What set McKenna off this morning? None of these injuries are older than that. Why did he beat you?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Because he’s an asshole?”

That gets me the tiniest twitch of Logan’s lips, then his eyes narrow in thought. “Of course he’d beat you this morning,” he says softly, as if he’s talking to himself. “He wanted us to see it.”

I’m sure Logan’s right about Austin getting off on that idea, but that wasn’t why.

At least, it wasn’t the catalyst.

“I don’t know if he was just trying to fuck with my head, or if he meant it, but he started talking about keeping me for himself,” I tell Logan.

A mistake, because it takes me right back to the moment Austin assaulted me. I felt worse than powerless, and my breath hitches at the memory, my pulse starting to race.

Of course I didn’t want that motherfucker to touch me, but my bigger fear came from the realization that he’s totally sadistic enough to have set up the whole exchange solely for the sick pleasure of taunting me with what I wanted before taking it away again.

Logan’s hands go still on my body, and he looks up at me. Then he sets aside the disinfectant in his hand and stands. “We wouldn’t have let him.”

“I know.” I grab his hands and bring them back to my ribs, my nipples tightening. “Austin kissed me. I bit his tongue.”

Logan stares at me for a moment, then his lips tip up at the corner, just a fraction of an inch. “You should have bitten a little harder.”

“I stopped when I tasted blood.”

Logan’s eyes flare again at that, but he turns me away from him and goes back to carefully cleaning my wounds, his hands trailing down my spine. Once he reaches my ass, he turns me back around to face him, reaching for the disinfectant again. There are at least half a dozen spots where Austin broke the skin, thanks to that fucking ring he wore.

Eventually, as if he’s been processing it this whole time, Logan gives a small nod and says, “That’s why he hit you. Because you made him bleed.”

It’s not a question, and he’s not wrong, but it wasn’t just the blood. It was my defiance.

If I hadn’t bit Austin, if I’d played at being a willing little wifey for him, he’d just have found another reason to hit me.

Iknowhe would, because he enjoyed it too much.

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