Page 46 of The Burnt Heart

“You got the short straw, huh?” I kneaded my forehead. Logan took a tentative step inside, and the thoughts latched onto his tall form.

Logan being stabbed, his blood seeping on the floor.

His fingers curling out to me, soaked red.

I bit back a whimper. The intrusive thoughts hadn’t been this strong in such a long time.

“Being the one to see you is like winning the lottery, siren. Although I have a feeling Jesse might try to sneak a peek of you later.”

“Casual stalking. Who said romance is dead?” I hunched over the sill, blinking at the filtered sunlight that streamed through. My body was flushed, and I had to fight the urge to sink into the ground. My tongue was too thick to lash out at Logan, my racing, suffocating thoughts too thick to deal with fighting him. I flexed my hand, the knuckles popped, but it didn’t help this time.

“Siren?” Logan’s forehead puckered as his gaze snagged on the movement.

Slashed wrists.

Crimson waves churning red into the sand.

Blood. Blood. Choking on blood.

I panted on an unsatisfying breath. I couldn’t stop the barrage of thoughts that gripped my neck like a collar. Logan’s arms wrapped around me, but I remained stiff, covering my face with my hands.

“Oh siren, I’m here. I’ve got you.” He didn’t ask me again. He knew. My guys were the first people to witness these episodes. When the thoughts became so strong, so violent, they stole my breath. I gulped, turning in his solid embrace and letting his warmth steal into my frozen veins. I needed the connection right now. The anchor to the real world. I had other ways of coping, but I didn’t want to cross the line. I was trying to give them up and failing. If I let Logan help me, in a way no-one else could, I worried I could never survive on my own. But the vividness of them made my body shake. None of my usual methods were working, and I needed to walk out of here, not crawl.

“Logan...” I swallowed. I couldn’t ask him directly, but he knew what I needed. His hands slid down my body as he dropped to his knees in front of me. His gaze hit the floor when I looked down, and a trickle of calm unveiled through me. He threaded his hands in his lap and waited.

“Ta-take off your s-shirt.” I cleared my throat, taking a step back. His fingers shook as he hooked them around the hem, and he drew it slowly over his head. My heart ached at the sight of his chest. A light dusting of blonde hair trailed down his sculpted muscles. His abs contracted, like the laser focus of my eyes was a physical brush against them. I pressed the heel of my hands into my skull as I saw blood.

Pools of viscous life force, creeping over the wooden floorboards.

Logan’s crystal blue gaze fixed like a doll’s eyes on the ceiling, empty like glass.

I shook my head, trying to dispel them, when Logan chanced a worried glance.

“Did I say you could look at me?” I snapped, exhaling sharply.

“Sorry siren.” He was provoking me. But it worked. Stale scent of plants drifted in, my other senses turning back on.

“Who am I?” I walked over to a cleaning cloth and tore it into a thin strip.

“Master.”

Excitement shot through me at his soft tone. He was steadfastly staring at the ground, like the good boy he was. Logan wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this moment. I hadn’t known how much I enjoyed this until Logan admitted my ability to control a room full of deadly men was such a turn on for him. Just my voice snarling a command had him twitching. I hooked the material over his eyes, knotting it solidly behind his head. It pinched his hair, but he didn’t complain. The thoughts flitted in, but I could breathe again. I could feel them, acknowledge, but the urge to struggle against them dropped.

They weren’t my focus. The man on his knees for me was.

“Good boy.”

Logan’s nostrils flared as air gusted out of his lungs. There was a bulge in his jeans that looked uncomfortable.

“Unzip. Show master how much you want her.”

Saliva pooled in my mouth in anticipation, but Logan didn’t move, his head jerking slightly as if he couldn’t believe what I’d offered him. Frustration flared at his hands that lay slack at his side.

“I hate having to repeat myself,” I growled, and he leaped to obey. Still, his mouth worked like he was deliberating on talking. I stiffened. Logan could only speak when spoken too, or if he wanted to use his safe word. He shucked his pants down as best he could while still maintaining a crouch. His thigh twitched when I lowered down, my hot breath puffing against his straining cock. A slight curve that jutted out of a nest of soft, blonde hair. Logan was large everywhere, except for his personality. He was reserved around those who didn’t know him, content to let others decide for him. He hated to be touched, except by me. His cock jerked, as if he could tell myfingers were reaching for it. A soft, shuddering exhale escaped Logan’s lips, followed by the merest whine when I dragged my nails down him.

Scorching hot, thick like steel. Heat pulsed between my legs at the idea of notching my hips and finding my own release. But this wasn’t about pleasure.

This was all control. My mind was buzzing, quiet, and intense on Logan. There was a hunger inside of me that craved him whimpering, squirming and tormented.

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