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She couldn’t breath.

The bitch was squeezing at her throat, trying to throttle the life out of her and Marie knew she just had to let her. Just had to make sure that she held on a little longer before she landed the killing blow. All around her she could hear the sounds of Manhattan, the scream and whisper of traffic but here in the parking lot nobody could hear. Nobody could stop her. Marie- no, not Marie, this wasn’t her memory- Marie let her heart-beat slow, let her breathing grow shallow. Even let the bitch push past her outer defences and into her mind for a spell. She- he, Marie told herself more desperately, this was Daken, not her- He let his body fall slack, let his hands drop to his sides like the bitch had bested him. Even pretended to respond to the telepathic orders she placed in his mind. Frost pushed ahead, heedless of danger now she thought she was in control and there, in the spot where she should have found the information she needed- She found the image of a jack-in-the-box.

Marie opened her eyes with a gasp.

Heartbeat pounding, body dripping in sweat. Feeling like she’d run a mile- if she didn’t crawl out of her skin first. For a second she was completely disorientated- Where the Hell was she and why was she naked?- but even as she tried to calm herself she felt something shift in the bed beside her. Make that someone- Someone hairy and growly and at the moment (by the smell of him) worried as all get out. She frowned into the darkness, hot recognition trickling through her veins like honey in July-

And then, as she’d known he would, Logan opened his eyes. Looked at her.

His gaze doing the sorts of things to her insides that Preacher Morgan always said led to a long stay in Hell.

Well, fuck.

“You okay, darlin’?” he muttered then. His tone protective, arms pulling her more tightly against his chest there where they lay together. He was stroking calming circles on her back like there was nothing strange at all about this situation, about the two of them curling together without a stitch between them and daylight a memory in their wake. Marie opened her mouth to reply but nothing would come out; It was like her brain had decided to freeze up-

But no, that wasn’t right, her brain hadn’t frozen up any. There was just so much heat in her body right now that she thought she might spontaneously combust.

And again, she thought, with the fuck.

Logan released her then, when she didn’t answer. Just sat up and gently laid one of those big heavy hands of his against her cheek, touching his forehead to hers before pulling away. Watching her but giving her space. Without meaning too Marie made a small moue of disappointment at his withdrawal and it was only then that she realised she had been crying: She could feel the wetness of her tears against the dryness of his hand. Feel the ghost of Daken still moving beneath her skin. She tried to drag her mind back to the nightmare, knowing that it probably contained much-needed intel’ but she couldn’t: Her brain wouldn’t let her process it. Which meant that whatever she’d gotten from the bastard would be inaccessible for at least a few more days-

And which also meant she was gonna have to deal with the current situation, since she couldn’t plead crisis management to make a break for another room.

“You wanna talk about it?” Logan asked quietly then. “Bin waiting fer ya t’come back to us, darlin’… You were crying in your sleep until I got in here with ya… ” And his voice trailed off, his other hand rubbing wryly at the back of his neck though pointedly not explaining their lack of clothing. Again she tried to answer (Why in Hell wouldn’t her tongue work?) but she couldn’t: All she seemed able to do was lean into him, letting her weight shift against his chest until his body flushed warmly against hers. He seemed to understand, tucking her head underneath his chin and wrapping his big, heavy arms around her. Rocking her softly like he used to whenever they’d gone and nearly lost one another in the field. Marie dropped her eyes downwards and as she did so she noticed the cuts on his knuckles. Realised that the spaces where the claws came out had been treated with disinfectant and patched up but hadn’t actually healed any-

He saw her looking and tried to move his hands away. “It’s nothing, Marie,” he told her, “Just a scratch’r something-”

“Then why hasn’t it healed?” Oh, so now her voice worked.

“It will do, darlin’.” Logan was as close as he ever came to squirming. “It’s just gonna take time because o’ what Mystique did to me-”

“What did she do?” And something inside Marie, the last trace of whatever possessive, hormonal thing Daken had dosed her with, growled angrily. Told her to find the Blue Bitch and pound her three ways till Sunday for the harm done to her mate. Logan tried to move away again and she blocked him, cocking a questioning an eyebrow. A split second staring contest ensued and then with a frustrated sigh he bent his head down, indicating sheepishly that she should check out the back of his neck. It looked like a map of the Rockies.

Which didn’t exactly help Rogue’s sense of Zen.

“Ah’m gonna kill that shape-shifting bitch!” she snarled. Because thanks to her borrowed feral senses she could smell the faint aroma of metal and poison underneath his skin. Tell that neither flesh nor muscle was knitting back together- which she guessed made the wound painful as Hell. Worry flooded through her, that strange superstitious kinda dread that only plagued you when your nearest and dearest were hurting and she made an unconscious sound in the back of her throat. Part purr, part growl, all protective. Running her hands unconsciously up his chest and through his hair to sooth him, her scent she knew flooding with tenderness and care. Logan took in a sudden, sharp breath, registering the change in her and without really meaning to- without even thinking about it- Marie bumped her nose lightly against the wound. Hesitated a split second and then licked gently along the skin around the bandage, her fingers tangling more fully in his hair. That purring sound still rumbling through her throat. Seemed the thing to do, although why precisely she didn’t wanna dwell on-

And once again she remembered what Preacher Morgan had told her about earning a trip to Hell.

Because Logan’s heart-beat went up a notch, arousal flooding his scent. The fact that she’d licked him apparently enough to knock all his careful controls asunder, to call that beast within him out to play. He reached around, hands tangling in her hair now, and pulled her to him. Angling her mouth beneath his and then kissing her like a man in a desert greets water. Jesus. Marie’s body shifted instinctively to curl in his lap, her little arms pulling him tighter than she’d held anyone in years, his hands squeezing her from rib-cage to hips and back again- burning, her skin was burning- and his mouth travelling hungrily to her throat. Nipping at the skin, leaving tiny bite marks. Marking her, she knew, as his. For a second he met her gaze, those hazel eyes burning with something that once upon a time she would have called love- and then he buried his nose in her hair, breathing in the scent like he wanted to drown in it. His mouth finding hers again, tender and hot and Christ but it had been so long since she’d wanted anyone like this that she didn’t push him away. Couldn’t. Just growled more deeply at the back of her throat, the warm, hard length if him pressing against her belly even as her hands roamed his back, his arms. Even as she relearned the contours of this body she’d loved as she’d never love another. The rhythm of his rocking hips was calling up her own now, her tongue sweeping into his mouth now, biting at his lip-She thought maybe one of ’em was gonna scream but she didn’t care none-

And then Logan tipped them both backwards in the bed. Spreading her out like a map of the universe beneath him. Laying her open and wanted and bare. Pulling her legs upwards to hook around his neck and growling against her skin, running tongue and hands and teeth and- Holy baby Jesus- nails down the shivering, sensitised flesh of her thighs. Muttering- “Christ I missed you, darlin’-” while he touched every inch of her like he never wanted to stop. Like he wasn’t able to. Marie gasped, hollered, the heat of him flaring against her ass even as he continued to bite and nip at her knees, her calves. Her feet. Hands kneading her flesh hotly, growling what he wanted to do to her now he had her all to himself. Now that she was his again. Marie arched her back unconsciously, the action half plea and half demand and without warning he spread her legs wide again, suckling wetly, hotly against her belly, then her nipples. His mouth full of her even as she tried to twine her legs around his waist and hold him more firmly in place. But she should have known better: Instantly he pulled away, grinning wickedly as he licked, sucked, bit his way back down to her legs. Her pussy. Nipping the soft skin at the very side of her thigh-yes!- and making her hips buck off the bed. For one second he stared up at her, his expression glittering and feral and hot enough to burn a hole through her skin. His hands pulling her hips up to meet him, muttering, “Show me how much you want it, sweetheart, show me-”

And then he was inside her. Mouth. Tongue. Fingers. Working on that tightening ball of pleasure and pressure. The joy of it hot and wet and indescribable- The sensation of it practically making her scream-

Which was when the door to the adjoining suite opened.

When the woman who was neither Jubes or Kitty walked in, naked as the day she was born. Tamzin, the red-headed stripper Stacey had pointed out during Marie’s first stay here- the one who was apparently always being turned down by Logan- wandered into the room wearing nothing but a smile and a box of Trojans XXL. Apparently completely unaware that Logan and Marie might be a Little. Fucking. Busy.

“So,” the redhead purred gamely, “Did your ex say yes to joining in with us?”

You have got to be fucking kidding me, Marie thought then.