Blood, Logan thought, inhaling deeply, claws sliding out of his fists as he whipped into the parking lot of Jose’s Cocina. Marie's car was there. He skidded to a stop and leapt out of the Mustang, leaving the door open and the engine running. His senses pointed him straight to the large green dumpster next to the restaurant. He ran to it and tore off the lid—
“Oh,” he breathed.
That was all. Not a scream, not a howl of rage or anguish. Just the breath abandoning his body as his mind stopped functioning and his heart twisted and collapsed in on itself.
He picked up Marie, the scent of copper enveloping him so thickly he could taste it in the back of his throat.
“No.” He looked down sternly at her and shook his head, laying her out on the ground before him.
He shook her. “No. No.”
Dead dead dead. “No!”
The side door of the restaurant creaked open, and Logan turned to see a man emerging with an armload of blood-soaked towels.
He saw red.
The man dropped the towels in shock. “What the f—“
“WHY?” Logan roared as he charged him, though before the word even left his mouth he was beyond caring 'why.' Nothing this man could say would spare his life. Logan let the animal take over.
Everything that happened then was a blur of claws and blood and screams of agony that faded all too quickly to groans and gurgles.
He snarled, drove his claws deep and tore the flesh back, until he could see bones splinter and crack under the force of his blows.
His rage was nowhere near sated when the prey’s tattered body ceased putting up any resistance, but he left it to bleed out and staggered back to his dead mate, pulling her into his arms and nuzzling his face with hers, desperately drawing in the last of her warmth and scent.
He whimpered into her skin, a low, mournful keening as he rocked her. How could she? How could she leave him like this, right after he finally found her? She said she would stay with him. She gave her word. He didn’t even get to show her how much . . .
This isn’t right, Logan thought dimly. She doesn’t deserve this. Are You up there, You bastard? After all the shit You put me through, You fuckin’ owe me one. Take me instead. My life for hers. You hear that, bub? My life for hers.
Wounds began to open up on his skin.
Logan gasped, feeling the life flow out of him and into her. It worked? he thought incredulously. The gashes opened wider, blood pouring down his body, soaking his clothes. His breath caught in his throat, the pain so overwhelming that he couldn’t even form a scream.
He just held onto her tighter.
His life for hers. The first prayer he’d ever had answered.
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