“Come here, Marie.”
His voice brooked no argument, and she padded forward until his boots were in front of her. She gathered her courage and took a deep breath, raising her head to meet his eyes. “Logan...”
In a flash he had spun her around, pressing her up against the door with the weight of his metal-laced body. His mouth was ravenous on hers, devouring her gasp of surprise, stealing her breath. She was frozen for a stunned moment and then she sobbed into his mouth in relief, her arms tightening around his shoulders, her legs automatically wrapping around his waist.
“Marie.” The words were ground out against her lips, as his hand wound tightly into her hair. “Jesus Christ, Marie, don’t ever leave me like that again.”
Relief rushed through her, spreading warmth and joy through her frozen limbs.
She gasped her assent. “Never.”
The single word seemed to unleash something within him. He growled, deep and low, pushing his hips into hers ferociously, his mouth tearing away from hers to place sucking bites down her neck.
He reached her collar, and something about it seemed to pull him back to his senses. He shoved away from her, lowering her to the ground, taking in deep harsh breaths.
Finally, he seemed to have collected himself enough to speak. “The generator’s been on, so the water should be warm. Get showered and dressed, Marie, and then we’ll talk.”
“Logan...”
He silenced her with a quick nip to her lips, his tongue slicking over her mouth, making her shiver. “Just do as I say, Marie. I have somethin’ to do, and then we have to talk.”
With quick efficient movements he pulled the door open and stepped outside, leaving her to lean bonelessly against the wall.
Holy hell, she thought. What the fuck was that?
__________
The shower felt like a miracle after three grubby weeks in the facility. She felt some of the achiness and exhaustion leave her, the terror and regret of the past three weeks seeming to disappear down the drain with the filthy water.
She stepped out of the bathroom and noticed clothes laid out on the bed. Her clothes in fact...or at least the borrowed ones from the mansion. Everything from jeans to scarf and gloves. She dried her hair with the towel, lifting up the suppression collar to dry underneath it as well. She dressed, leaving the scarf and gloves behind.
With the exception of the bedroom and bathroom, the rest of the cabin was one main room. She emerged tentatively, still unsure of what she could say to Logan. How do you thank someone who you abandoned, and who subsequently saved your life? She felt unbearably shy at the prospect of facing him again, even with the memory of his lips on hers warming her blood.
She heard a slight clattering from the kitchen and found him there. He seemed surprisingly at home, moving pans on the stove, pouring coffee into a cup. Her mind struggled to absorb this shockingly domestic version of Logan.
He seemed to have washed up at the sink -- his hair was damp and ruffled, and he was dressed in his familiar flannel shirt and jeans. He pressed the cup of coffee into her hands, guiding her to the couch. In a few more moments he put a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast on the coffee table in front of her.
“Eat,” he instructed, and she automatically pushed some of the food into her mouth.
This is ridiculous, she told herself. “Logan. I want to tell you how sorry I am...”
“I heard,” he interrupted.
“Um...what?”
He sat in a deep leather chair opposite her position on the couch, leaning forward.
“Everythin’ you said in the cell. Sorry, darlin’, I had to pretend to be out so that bastard Sabretooth didn’t come back too soon. But I was awake. I heard what you said.”
“You...” She felt a spark of anger growing to a flame, fired by humiliation. “You...you heard? All of that? And...and you didn’t let me know?”
His eyes gleamed, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth. “Every word.”
“You....you...jerk!”
She made a half-hearted swipe at him, and he caught her wrist. His eyes darkened, and he pulled her towards him slowly. She ended up in his lap and he cuddled her up against his chest, leaning back in the chair with a sigh.
“Yeah, maybe,” he said, his voice low and meditative. “But dammit, Marie...I needed to know what was goin’ on in that head of yours. Would you really have told me all of that if you knew for sure that I could hear you?”
Dammit, he was right. She let her silence answer for her.
He kissed her lightly on the forehead. “I need to show you somethin’, darlin’.”
His arm around her, he walked her to the window overlooking the front porch.
“See that?” He gestured to the clearing, and she looked in confusion at what looked like a small satellite dish on a tripod.
“What is it?”
“That collar you’re wearin’...it has a tracker, darlin’. Allows them to get a lock on your location from anywhere within 15 miles.”
She felt her heart lurch into her stomach. She backed away, tugging at the collar, panic rising within her.
“They’re coming for me?” Her voice was a thready whisper, even to her own ears.
He moved toward her, his eyes reassuring. “Don’t freak out, darlin’. We trashed the tracking system at the lab. If there’s anyone left who cares, it’ll still take them awhile to get up and runnin’. And this thing -- “ he gestured to the satellite dish “ -- will let us know they’re close before they sense us. Hank rigged it to tell us if anyone is tryin’ to track you within 45 miles. Not much of a head start, but it’ll do.”
Her knees were weak again and he must have sensed it, scooping her up and bringing her back to sit with him on the couch.
“Deep breaths, Marie.” His hand stroked gently through her hair, as she buried her head into his chest, breathing in his scent. The first breath came out in a sob, but slowly she was able to calm herself.
“I don’t understand,” she finally managed. “Why didn’t you just cut it off me at the lab?”
He tipped her head back, his eyes meeting hers. “Because it’s not my choice to make, Marie. It’s yours.”
As if he couldn’t help himself, his lips nipped at hers again, arousing and yet somehow soothing.
“You told me once that I didn’t understand what it was like for you -- not bein’ able to touch anyone. Bein’ a prisoner in your own skin. I may still never know, but I know how important it is to you. So if you want to keep the collar, we can make it work.”
Her mind was still spinning, the collar feeling like an unbearably heavy weight around her neck now that she knew what it could do. “What do you mean -- make it work how?”
“However you want. Wherever you want. Mexico, Europe. Fuckin’ Tibet, I don’t care. If you want to go on the run, then I’m goin’ with you. We take this gizmo of Hank’s with us, and we stay one step ahead of anyone who might be comin’ for you.”
She looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity there.
She swallowed hard. “Your friends...your home...”
“My home is with you, Marie.”
She closed her eyes against the rush of emotion. She never thought she’d hear those words from anyone. That anyone would be willing to make that kind of sacrifice for her.
She felt a momentary pang of regret, but the decision was easy. “Cut it off.”
Shock flickered across his face. “Marie...you’re sure?”
Her eyes were unwavering on his. “Absolutely sure.”
Another quick brush of his lips against hers. “You know it doesn’t matter to me, Marie. Your mutation...your skin...it doesn’t matter worth a damn to me. You’re everythin' that I want.”
She knew. She had always known, even when she tried to deny it to herself. From the moment her mind had taken in his, from the moment she had felt his teeth against her skin in the containment room, she had known.
He stroked her hair one more time, shutting his eyes briefly. She heard the snap of his claw, and couldn’t help the thrilled shudder that ran through her as he traced the blunt edge under the thin line of the collar.
“There’s a hinge on each side,” he said. “Once the circuit is broken the tracker won’t work anymore, but if I cut it at the hinges maybe Forge can remove the tracker somehow, and fix it up again...”
“It’s okay, Logan.” She squeezed her eyes tight. “Just do it.”
A quick flick of his claw at each side of her neck and she felt the collar fall away. He set the pieces on the coffee table. They looked surprisingly benign sitting there -- two slim arcs of metal.
She rubbed her neck where the collar had been, its absence feeling strange already.
She looked down at her bare hands, and thought about the gloves she had left behind on the bed.
“Two hours,” she said to herself softly.
“Marie?”
She wound her hands into his hair tightly, almost desperately. She looked into his eyes, the warm golden hazel sending a shiver up her spine.
“Two hours,” she said to him. “I can touch for two hours.”
She watched his eyes dilate, darkening with passion. A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Marie...you don’t...”
This time she interrupted him, her mouth drowning out his words, her tongue delving deep. Tasting him. For the first and last time, she thought, and then pushed away the bitter thought. This time was a gift she never thought she’d have, and she wouldn’t allow anything to spoil it.
“Shut up, Logan,” she said. She felt the slow smile spreading across her face. “Two hours. And I don’t want to waste a second.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
For MelancholyRogue...welcome back, darlin'!
Chapter End Notes:
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