The room stank of brimstone.

Stray buried her face in Logan’s neck, trying not to smell it. The warm, familiar scratch of his fur against her skin comforting her as nothing else would have done. Her quarters were a shambles, the expensive furniture knocked every which way; nothing within her line of vision had been broken though and for that she was oddly grateful-

Since she didn’t think she could bear having to hand over money to Sebastian Shaw after what he’d just done to her.

The beast in Logan must have smelt her reaction because he gave her a low, keening growl in agreement.

Time continued to pass though and no servants came to check on them. The noise of the fight should have woken this entire wing of the house and there was no explanation as to why it hadn’t that would make Stray feel any better. Because either some sort of protection had been put on her room to dampen the sounds made within it- she had heard tell of such enchantments being used on bridal bowers or the premises of flesh houses- Or else the good and noble folk of this floor had heard everything and elected not to intervene. Maybe they had even enjoyed the show. The thought of such indifference set her blood boiling; It was this, more than anything else, which finally put a stop to her tears. Because she could sob here in Logan’s arms or she could get up and cause some damage-

And for the first time in her life it was the latter which interested her.

Logan- or at least his beast- must have sensed the change in her because he stopped rocking her then. Moved quietly to let her go, his face turned away. As quickly as it had come her fury vanished; She realised that he had smelt how angry she was and that he probably thought she was angry at him. That thing had worn his face and now he thought that she was frightened of him because of it- She couldn’t bear to have him think that, not when he’d saved her again. So when he pulled away from her she followed after him; When he tried to take back the hand she’d clasped she took it again. The beast in him gave a warning growl, confused by her actions; She made her own growl in answer, laying her forehead against his and held on until he finally stopped trying to get away. For a beat they were still and she concentrated on the feeling of peace this gave her: It must have travelled into her scent because Logan let one hand drift up to twine in her hair, his lips finally brushing against her hairline in a kiss. Stray sighed, letting him tip her face up to meet his: He brushed his nose along the tracks of the fat, scalding tears Shaw had wrung from her and let out an unhappy, discontented sigh.

“Thought you were angry at me,” he murmured then, the hand in her hair tightening.

She gave him a watery, tired smile. “That I gathered. But I wasn’t angry at you, cariad, I’d never be angry at you-”

“I should have been more explicit,” he growled, “I should have explained the stink of unnaturalness that rolls off this place. If I had-”

“If you had he might have kicked his way through the door.” She put a finger to his lips to silence him when he tried to speak over her. “Nobody has come to check on me, you notice: Without the fear of having to charm his way in he might have become-” her voice tightened and she tried to control it- “Might have become v-violent a lot sooner than he did.”

His voice was fierce. “So you’re saying we should be grateful he didn’t?” he demanded.

She tried her best to shrug nonchalantly. “I’m just saying- Thank the powers for small favours.” She tucked herself in against his chest again. “Because right now that will have to do.”

And with that she sighed, finally letting the effects of the night take her over. Her eyes drooping shut now, the sheer relief of realising the impostor wasn’t really Logan letting her drift off into sleep. She found no rest though; Her dreams were colourful and chaotic, laced with violence and shadows and things that slithered in the dark. Red eyes watching her hungrily, sulphur exploding inside her nostrils like the slit of a knife. Every so often she awoke, one time to see a bloodied but relieved-looking Gainsborough leaning over her. Another to find Ororo and Mistress Kitty examining her, her ruined night-dress in their hands. She caught snatches of conversation, answered their questions without really understanding them. The one thing she remembered clearly was Kitty asking whether the impostor had asked to be invited inside. Stray only had time to notice the tell-tale tightening around Logan’s eyes when she answered no before she drifted off to sleep again-

This time she didn’t wake up until morning was spilling through the windows.

In the bare light of day things looked both better and worse.

Better because she could see that what had happened was mainly tumult and knocked over furniture. Worse because the destruction reminded her just how close a call last night had been. She shivered as she now realised why Kitty had asked how the impostor had crossed her threshold: The damage here was clearly done by magic and it was magic that had gotten the impostor into her room without having to be invited in. At that (frankly bone-chilling thought) she lifted her head to find a completely human Logan staring quizzically down at her. One mahogany lock of hair twisted together between his big, blunt fingers as he searched her face. She frowned and he smiled, trying to reassure her, but it didn’t really work any-

“What’s wrong?” she muttered then, her voice thick with sleep.

His nervousness increased and alarm went through her: Nervousness and Logan were not creatures you wanted on speaking terms.

“I want you to do something fer me,” he was saying, “and I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

She sat up cautiously. “That depends entirely on what it is you want.”

“I want you to take a bath,” he told her nervously, tucking another strand of hair behind her ear. He was peering at her anxiously.

She frowned. “Why would you think I wouldn’t like that?”

His discomfort increased, embarrassment and frustration coming off him in waves. “I would be in the water with you,” he said eventually, voice tight with worry. “We- That is, I- It wouldn’t be very seemly Stray, and I don’t want you thinking- I don’t want you getting the idea that I’m asking you this because of what happened last night.”

She frowned. “If it’s not about what happened last night then why are you asking me?”

Logan gave a frustrated sigh. He looked like he would very much have liked something to skewer. “I’m not propositioning you, Stray,” he said bluntly, making sure to enunciate each word clearly. “I know how such a thing might look: Washing implies that I think you’re dirty- sullied somehow- and we both know you’re not. But Kitty left something to help you- It’s called Dove’s Heart- and it’s fer bringing peace and protection to those who have been oppressed by magic. To take it you have to be in a bath.”

At her raised eyebrows he looked away, sighing like a martyr. She might have been imagining it but she swore the tips of his ears turned red.

“You put this potion in bath water, breath it in,” he growled through clenched teeth. “The fumes help cleanse within, the waters without. Kit says I should take it too but I don’t want to leave you fer that long-”

Full understanding finally came to Stray and she found herself smiling.

Did this man ever do anything but worry about her?

“So you don’t want to leave me,” she said softly. “You don’t-You’re trying to take care of me, I understand that.”

“Do you agree to let me?” His expression was wary.

She tried her best to sound reassuring. “I agree to let you try.”

And she held her hand out to him, closing her fingers tightly against his. Gave his arm a little tug and despite himself he smiled, allowed himself to be pulled towards the bathroom. Stray watched as the tub filled, steam rising from the water’s surface: Logan leaned forward and poured in three minute drops of liquid from an emerald-green bottle, a liquid that smelt uncannily like Spring. As soon as the Dove’s Heart hit the water it changed colour, turning the light jade pigment of new leaves; He nodded in satisfaction and then began stripping his clothes, his every movement still lupine and gracefully concise. Stray watched shyly, biting her lip. It was the first time she’d ever seen him completely naked in his human form and though she knew she should she couldn’t bring herself to look away. He was so different, so…beautiful in his own flesh, she thought. She wasn’t sure whether she’d ever seen anything quite so lovely as he. She blushed at the thought and his gaze met hers, his nakedness apparently of no bother to him. He held his hand out to her wordlessly and she raised her foot to the lip of the bath-tub, ready to get in. But for a moment she hesitated, not sure whether she wanted to do this-

“Stray,” she heard him say softly, “Stray, you have nothing to fear here.”

He reached into the bath, wetting his hand, and touched her forehead. Flesh met flesh but her skin didn’t kick in.

“So fer once in your life,” he told her, “Do as you’re bid, girl.”

And with that she finally took a deep breath and stepped into the tub.

Heat flashed against through her then, her own smile matching his. The water moved against her, began its caressing, soothing work. Logan pulled her against his chest and she blinked up at him, her eyes she knew wide as saucers as he gestured for her to sit down against him; He let out a tense breath she hadn’t realised he was holding as she settled into his lap, sighed in contentment as she twined his hand through hers. Stray closed her eyes as his other hand moved to tangle in her hair; He placed a dripping coil of it over her shoulder and set his chin upon its glistening mass. “See, little trouble-begot,” he whispered, “You’re no danger to me.” His arms tightened around her. “The only person you’re truly a danger to is yourself.”

Stray gave a snort of laughter, her emotions going topsy-turvy and twisting inside her. She felt like her heart was trying to feel too many things at once and the tears of last night- mixed with shaky, quivering, happy ones- were fusing together in her chest. The steam from Kitty’s concoction rose in weird, quivering green spirals. The scent of it filled her nostrils, the heat of it suffused her bones. She took in a deep breath, a contentment that she had never expected filling her-

And in that moment she felt the first, sharp, angry golden feathers burst from her skin to cut into Logan’s flesh.