New Orleans.
Of all of the rat infested shitholes Rogue had to go and hole up in, she’d picked his least favorite.
The street smelled like piss and dirty diapers. And vomit. Not to mention the level of eeriness. The place reeked of it. The air was thick with it, like the steam rolling off of the pavement in waves, mingling with his cigar smoke.
Nothing but smoke and mirrors…
It made the hair along Logan’s spine bristle, curling around the collar at his neck, damp with sweat, chafing against the leather, his denim jeans sticking to his thick steely thighs, knuckles aching.
His instincts warned him to keep his claws drawn at all times, his heightened senses rioting within him, just beneath the surface. But broad daylight wasn’t the time for a show. So he kept the beast in it’s cage, locked away. For now.
That came later…
When darkness fell.
And boy, was Logan in for a show…
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2BnRyb1puIA
Chapter End Notes:
Drum roll, please...