Chapter 13 – POV, once again
Standing on the porch of Marie's parent's house, Logan felt on edge. He hadn't anticipated them ending up there as part of this mission. It grated on his already-thin nerves. He could smell just how nervous she was, how afraid she was. That strong a smell of terror coming off his Marie had brought every protective instinct he had raging to the surface.
Even worse, the smell of old blood clogged the pores of the porch's concrete floor. It had a rusty metallic odor that no longer carried distinguishing characteristics. Thank God for that, because he was pretty fuckin' sure he knew where it had come from. He felt his fury bring his claws forward until they pierced the skin between his knuckles.
When her stupid fuck of a father had blocked his way in behind Marie, Logan couldn't hold back the threat of bodily harm to get him out of his way. What did the old geezer expect?
And then the whole thing went to hell. They'd been played like a fuckin' piano, suddenly surrounded by gun-wielding professionals-for-hire. He didn't even have time to touch her so she'd have a chance if one of those bullets got her.
But she was his girl, and his girl could hold her own. She knew how to keep it together. She had kept a cool head and managed to come up with an escape plan by the seat of her pants.
After he gutted the fucker who'd laid two good shots in his shoulder, he followed her out to the garage, sneering in disgust when he noticed the stench of piss on the floor, pooling around her father's whimpering figure.
Then, they'd gone off down the winding road at 90 miles an hour -- slow really. Piece-of-shit truck couldn't go any faster. He'd been in the middle of teasing her about his healing when he noticed the wires.
The fuck?
Apparently, his girl knew a lot more than he'd given her credit for. He fully intended to find out if she meant that she'd learned it in Detroit the old fashioned way or through that fuckin' drug-dealer's memories. If the second held true, that meant he'd held on longer than she'd admitted. Which meant the Goddamn sonuvabitch had done more than just hold her up against a fence.
Fuck.
He'd find out even if he had to drag it out of her -- and he probably would have to. Another time.
As it was, they were in the middle of a car-chase and they were cuttin' it kinda close. But she went after the gun in the back and maybe she could use that to defend herself if she had to.
When the SUV expertly ran up on his side and clipped him in the corner, the unstable old truck lost all control. He knew they were gonna crash. And she wasn't wearing a seatbelt...
He reached out to grab her, using the steering wheel to anchor himself. But her body lifted into the air as they flipped, and the last thing he saw was her figure slam up against the dashboard with a sickening crack.
He smelled her when he woke up. Usually, that would have been fodder for his dirty mind, but it was tainted. Her scent was drenched in blood and pain and terror.
He was on top of her unconscious form. He pushed his healing body up to relieve her of his weight. She had a gash down the side of her forehead all the way down to her ear. Her hair was matted in dirt and water and strands stuck to her face. He could hardly hear her breath.
“Jesus. No,” he groaned.
He reached for her face. Remembering he still wore his gloves, he frantically pulled them off and threaded his fingers half-way into her hairline.
Nothing happened.
He stared, waiting, frozen in horror.
“No,” he choked out. “Marie?”
He heard her pulse get weaker. He tightened his grip, pressing his palm hard against her cheek. Take it! his mind screamed.
Nothing.
At the hospital, waiting through the surgery was the most agonizing day of his life. It was endless. He'd never felt the rush of fear so strong for so long. It was suffocating. He would have passed out if he hadn't been turning every other minute expecting her to come out and need his healing touch.
Had this been what Scott had felt after Alkali Lake? No wonder he'd never recovered.
When they finally got her back to the mansion after days of profanity-laced arguments with the medical staff at Her Lady of the Fuckin' Fields Hospital in Jackson, he thought she might have a chance.
If she didn't wake up soon, he was going to have a fuckin' infarction.
”She's in V-tach again!” Moira called.
“Get the paddles,” Hank commanded.
“Marie!”
He shifted up to the top of the bed, near her head, so they could work.
“Jesus. Don't do this again!”
He wanted to scream at her. “Fight!” he commanded through gritted teeth.“You fuckin' fight! You hear me?”
“Logan, move.” Hank said, pushing him aside, ready with the paddles.
Her face was white, drained of all color. Her jaw was set in an awkward angle to accommodate the breathing tube. As they worked over her, her head lolled back and forth, lifeless. The monitor's slow beep pitched to a high solid whine.
“Clear!”
Her body jumped into the air.
A week later she was standing in his room as he came out of the shower, toweling his hair. It was surreal.
How had his life gone from a horrifying nightmare to a wonderful dream in such a short period of time?
She touched him. She decided it was what she wanted and she just went up and touched him. He'd never felt contact that soft and that amazing.
She struggled with it. He could feel the small tremble in her hands from the effort. When it slipped, he wouldn't let her back off in fear. She didn't need to be afraid. He wouldn't allow that.
God, her touch. It was like a benediction, absolving him of all his sins. All the horrible things he had done vanished with her simple touch.
He thought he might lose his mind.
When he felt her hands trembling again, straining with the effort to control her mutation, he knew it was too much. He had to stop. She needed to stop.
But that wasn't going to be it. Fuck, no.
XXX
By the next afternoon, they couldn’t even make it to her room before he went at her again.
Her back hit her door with a rather satisfying thump.
Her scent was driving him fucking mad. Two hours grappling with her after sending Sparky and Pride on their merry way, and he was sure he’d die from the flames of desire that were licking up his legs.
Then he had to wait for group training!
It was probably the most useless practice he’d ever had. Remy had actually managed to down him.
Twice.
The dickhead was so damn proud of himself he was practically wetting his pants.
And all Logan could do was think about wanting to see that enticing blush of hers creep down her chest and stomach again. He had a great imagination, but there were some things you just had to experience for yourself.
She smiled and spoke softly to him the entire way upstairs. The musky raw lingerings of sweat were making his mouth water. When she reached for her door handle, smiling at one of his comments about how good she looked, he lost it.
She looked so goddamn delicious he just had to taste her. He grabbed her, spun her around, gently grabbed the sides of her face and then not-so-gently kissed her while pushing her back up against her door.
The little mewl of surprise that came out of her only served to heat up his blood more. He pulled back just long enough to switch the angle of his face and dove back in.
Thank God she could turn it off because even if she couldn’t, he didn’t think it would have made him stop. He’d gladly spend two days in a coma to be able to feel the softness of her lips, the creaminess of her skin, and the sweetness of her breath intermingling with his own.
He could feel her hands grasping his shirt with a white knuckled grip. She pulled down on his shirt to bring him closer, and he happily complied. He reached down, lifting her up by the ass as her legs wrapped around him.
Her legs tightened on his hips as he crushed himself to her. Her face was level with his, making it easier to deepen his kisses. He used one hand to hold her face while the other supported her fabulous rear end. Their movements made small thumping sounds against her door.
He heard the Cajun come around the corner and stop dead in his tracks. If Marie wouldn’t have died of embarrassment he’d have given the little shit a show, teach him to stop smelling so Goddamn aroused around his girl.
He gave him a few seconds to take a good long look though, he thought as he tilted her flushed face up to bite her neck. He didn’t break the skin, but she’d walk around for a couple of days showing his mark. She let out a small gasp and ground her hips hard into his. He growled in response, making sure the Peeping Tom could hear it too.
It was almost comical how the guy was still gawking. Was he actually going to stand there thinking he’d get a full-on show?
Marie’s own heightened olfactory system would soon pick up on the distraction, so he finally reached down and grabbed her door handle, shoving it open and carrying her through it. He gave it a violent kick backwards to make one more point. The door slammed shut. Mine.
He buried his hand back in her hair and leaned down to set her on the bed, his body hovering over hers. She sat up just enough to reach him as he settled down over her. He tried to shift more to the side so she wouldn’t have to carry his substantial weight but she growled softly in frustration and pulled him closer.
He chuckled and complied, settling into the space between her legs, using his forearms to keep from crushing her small frame. She ran a hand through his sideburns. It would have been fucking blazing hot except for the fact that he could see and feel the gentle tremble that started to take hold of her.
He gentled his kisses, using his hands to tenderly stroke her face. This was going to take some time, he realized. It was going to drive him up the fucking wall of insanity, but he could handle it. He kissed a wet path down her jaw line and nibbled at her neck as her frantic breathing settled down to a slower pace.
Yeah he nodded to himself. She had a hard time concentrating on both her mutation and her arousal at the same time. She’d have to strengthen that control gradually, like a muscle, before she’d be able to fully enjoy him touching her like this. Like all practice, if she took on too much too fast, she wouldn’t be able to handle it and she’d slip. He wasn’t willing to risk her pulling back, afraid she’d hurt him. He groaned and buried his face into the crook of her neck.
“This is going to fuckin’ kill me.”
She smiled softly. “Ah feel like Ah’m gonna catch on fire.”
He clenched his eyes and tried to clamp down on the spike of arousal hearing that accent so thick with lust caused.
“I might already be burning,” he groaned miserably.
She laughed.
Which made it all worth it.
XXX
He spent time training her, being with her. Every morning in the practice room, working to perfect her movements in hand-to-hand combat. Every evening, teaching her ways he could touch her. Pushing her control to the limit. Each day, it grew a little stronger and she could go a little longer.
She wanted to touch him though. When she was in charge, touching him, her control was stable. She knew what to expect, and could manage it. So while he couldn’t get past taking her shirt off, she had already gotten him stripped naked and screaming her name while she used her mouth on him.
He wasn’t complaining, but he was getting a little jealous. Why did she get to have all the damn fun?
XXX
He was heaving for air, trying to see through the cloud of pure electricity running up his spine and into his head.
“Fuckin’ Christ,” he ground out. His hand tangled in the mass of brown and platinum hair moving over him. He clenched his eyes and looked at the ceiling.
“Don’t stop,” he panted.
She’d asked if he would meet her in the library when she finished studying. He’d walked around and eventually found her in the back corner of the room. She didn’t have a single textbook.
Somehow, he’d ended up in the desk chair, pants around his ankles and her mouth sucking him off.
“Holy shit.” He was trying not to be loud. They were in the library for fuck’s sake. But he was having trouble breathing and where the fuck had she learned to do that? No good southern girl should be able to use her mouth like that.
He took one hand from her hair and gripped the arm of the wooden chair, feeling his orgasm crawling down his spine. He felt a growl slowly build in his chest. So close. He clenched his teeth,and sat back, letting his head fall back.
“Jesus.” He felt the edges of his control wear thin. Almost.
Then his little vixen reached up and ran her nails down the back of his thighs and he knew he was gonna blow.
“Marie...baby, move. I’m gonna...” He tried to push her back, but she gripped tighter and took him as far into her mouth as she could.
He exploded.
White light shot through him as his hips bucked and he came into her hot mouth. He roared through gritted teeth.
XXX
She’d managed to get him off a handful of times before he started getting pissed. This was bullshit. She was going to have to let him touch her more.
It was maddeningly erotic and frustrating at the same time. The more aroused she became, the harder time she had with control. And while he was slowly building her up to a much anticipated climax of sensation, it was taking too long. He wanted to have her screaming his name before the fucking month was out.
He'd never been so damn horny in his life. The cold showers he took every night didn't help one fucking bit. He started forming a plan.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
We all love to read Logan's POV. I think, and please, do correct me if I'm wrong and it's not enough, but I think I've met my SMUT quota for the chapter. Hehe.
Chapter End Notes:
Many thanks to my fantastic BETA, doctorg. I hope you enjoyed it and are currently fanning yourselves. I certainly am. Please, review. I really enjoy them!