Chapter 92

Evelyn

The moon was high when I slipped out of my room, my bare feet silent against the cold stone floors. The corridor was quiet, with no guards or whispers, just the soft hush of my heartbeat echoing in my ears. I didn’t second-guess myself. Not tonight.

My wolf stirred, pulling me toward him. Like water running downhill, I would always gravitate toward him, and my wolf eagerly drew me in his direction.

I paused outside Logan’s door only a second before pushing it open. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. So much had already changed between us, but I knew that this evening, even more would evolve.

I pressed open the door, and it gave way without resistance. Logan never locked his door; he never needed to when he could neutralize any intruding threats in an instant.

The room was dimly lit by the fireplace in the far corner, which was casting a low amber glow across the books, maps, and scrolls scattered on his desk. He was there, sitting at the hulking piece of furniture, hunched over papers. I paused when I realized that he was shirtless, muscles flexing as he wrote something furiously.

He looked up when the door snicked shut behind me. He set aside the paper he had been reviewing and leaned back in his chair, appraising me. The heat in his eyes nearly took my breath away.

“Couldn’t sleep,” I said softly, stepping closer. “I just wanted to check on you, too.”

He arched a brow. “Oh yeah?”

“How are you… How are you feeling?” I asked. The question seemed inadequate. He had just killed his half-brother hours before, getting rid of his greatest enemy and arguably the greatest threat to the kingdom. But Jesse had still been his half-brother all the same.

But when Logan rose from his chair, it seemed like Jesse and the war were already long forgotten. As he took a step closer, I realized that those stressful, terrible things suddenly felt meaningless. They had no place in this room.

“Better now that you’re here,” he said.

My breath hitched, and my limbs flooded with warmth. He closed the distance between us in three strides and leaned in. His scent overwhelmed me as his hands found my waist, drawing me to him without hesitation. I melted into him like I’d been waiting all day. As I leaned further into his embrace, I wondered if I had, in fact, actually been waiting my whole life.

He kissed me like a starving man, like he didn’t want to waste a second more pretending. Our pasts and our secrets and the war fell away as our lips met. He tangled his hands in my hair, and I pressed myself into the hard planes of his body.

Our bodies moved in perfect sync. One moment we were entwined near the doorway, the next we had somehow migrated closer to his bed without ever once breaking apart or even coming up for air. The backs of my knees bumped against the mattress, and slowly I was being lowered down onto the plush expanse of his sheets.

He undressed me slowly and with reverence. When he was not devouring me with his kisses, he was looking at me with raw awe. He pulled my dress from me and took a beat to observe me—all of me—with a heavily lidded expression like he was drunk on his own lust.

I undressed him with equal fervor. All the while, we stole touches and kisses where we could, our hands, mouths, soft groans swallowed by the dark.

“Is this ok?” he asked, when we were fully naked before each other. The pale moonlight made his skin glow like it was hewn from marble or porcelain. So beautiful, like he had been sculpted just for me.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Please.”

So he did.

We made love slowly, then not so slowly. It was messy and raw, full of hunger and the kind of need that left me breathless. I let him consume me, happily melting into him. He took over; my mind wasn’t working just then. As he led me through, he spoke to me, soft reassurances and compliments warmly brushing the curve of my neck or fluttering the hair near my temple.

I had never felt something so exquisite. It overwhelmed me, how good it felt. When I cried out, so did he, like we were in sync even in this. The perfect pair. The ideal team.

When it was over, I curled into him, my head on his chest, listening to the thunderous rhythm of his heart as our sweat cooled.

He kissed my forehead. “That was…”

“Yeah,” I breathed, grinning against his skin. “That was incredible.”

We lay there in comfortable silence, limbs entwined, the air heavy and warm. Across the room, the fire in the hearth coughed its last few wisps of smoke before dying out entirely.

I could have stayed like that forever. In the comfortable silence of Logan’s room, his warm body contoured to mine and his pulse beneath my ear. I snuggled deeper into him, feeling utterly at ease for the first time in months, perhaps even in years.

Until a knock shattered the moment.

Logan tensed beneath me, sitting up. “What is it?”

He threw a blanket over me to cover my decency as I sat up as well.

A voice called through the door.. “Alpha, Princess. There’s news.”

“Come no further,” Logan growled. “Speak of this news from the hall.”

I blushed. It could not have been more obvious what we’d been up to.

“It’s your mother,” the messenger said. “She’s taken ill.”

Logan was already moving, tugging on his pants. “Is she in her quarters?”

“Indeed,” the messenger said. “I was told to advise you to hurry.”

We dressed in silence, the earlier peace vanishing like morning mist. I could see the tense lines of Logan’s body as he hastily threw on his shirt.

I didn’t bother with shoes as we rushed through the halls, Logan’s hand gripping mine tightly, like letting go would somehow make things worse.

When we reached his mother’s room, the smell hit me first. It was bitter, metallic, wrong, and… familiar.

Then, I saw Logan’s mother lying in her bed. She was pale, sweat slicking her brow as she lay still. Only her breathing indicated that she was still alive. Even then, each breath was shallow, and her lips had taken on a bluish tinge. Logan dropped to his knees beside her, grabbing her hand.

“Mother? It’s me. It’s Logan.” He turned to Chris, where he stood preparing an injection for her. “What’s wrong with her?”

“We’re trying to find that out, Alpha,” Chris assured.

Logan turned back to his mother. “Stay with me.”

For a heartbeat, she opened her eyes, just barely. “Lo…”

Her gaze flicked to me. Then it unfocused entirely.

I stepped closer, scanning the room. “Something’s not right.”

There was a mug of tea on her bedside table. I had a horrible, sinking suspicion.

I leaned in, sniffed it, then dipped my finger in and touched it to my tongue. My wolf recoiled immediately. I knew this taste and was well acquainted with its effects. This was perhaps the most potent dosage I’d ever tasted, though.

“Logan,” I said quietly. “She’s not sick.”

He looked up at me, fear etched into every line of his face.

“She’s been poisoned.”