He still had the taste of her body—the musk of her arousal—on his lips. He could remember her tight heat around him.
She had raked her nails down his back, leaving bright trails of sensation that he’d loved; he could still feel the healing scratches as he moved his shoulders.
Iz had been into it. Logan knew that. They had been wild for each other last night.
But he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that thatwildpart was the whole problem. Wild, animalistic, feral.
He’d found himself in bed with his true mate, with the woman he loved, and he’d completely lost control. First-time sex with your mate only ever happened once, and Logan had always imagined it would be exquisitely slow and tender lovemaking with them gazing into each other’s eyes. Last night had been fast and dirty and desperate. He could have hurt her. Sure, she had asked him to go quickly, but ....
She deserved the best, and all he’d given her washim. Unfiltered, unorganized, and untamed.
He couldn’t believe that he’d let go like that with her. He should have been careful, he should have been guarded, he should have beenhuman.
But we’renothuman,his hellhound protested,and neither is she.
Not completely, but—
He cut himself off. He didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling, even to himself.
Dirty. Broken.
He didn’t have the right to lie in bed snuggled up to Iz, breathing in the delicate scent of her skin and letting her soft hair tickle his nose. The guilt worked its way deep down inside him, spiraling like a corkscrew. Moving with the care heshouldhave used last night, he gently separated them and got out of bed.
But the bed is good,his hellhound said, confused.The bed has our mate, and it’s warm and safe.
I know. Just trust me.
He imagined scratching his hellhound’s ears, and he felt it relax a little.
Good. He didn’t want to take his anger at himself out on his hellhound. It wasn’t really its fault. It had done its best for him.
He considered going back to his room, but he didn’t like to think about leaving Iz unguarded and vulnerable. He went back just long enough to fetch his clothes, and then he commandeered one of the chairs in Iz’s room and parked himself by the door.
Like a guard dog, he thought with a trace of humor.
The tiny mood lift that brought faded pretty quickly.
He needed to place the blame for all this where it belonged, and it wasn’t with his hellhound and it wasn’t withhim, either.
This was all Sebastian. Randolph Sebastian had stolen months of his life, imprisoned his mate, and taken away his humanity, and then, as if that hadn’t been enough, he’d vanished into the night.
He wasn’t sure any part of his life would work until Sebastian was behind bars. How could he relax knowing their captor was still out there, maybe itching to put together a new collection? Besides, he must have said a dozen times that Iz was the undisputed crown jewel of his hoard; by making her his pet, he felt like he’d elevated himself even over his own species. If he got the chance to grab her again, he would take it.
The best thing Logan could do for Iz—maybe theonlything he could do for her, at least anytime soon—was make sure Randolph Sebastian would never bother her again.
So that was his mission, and he’d always felt better when he had a mission. All he had to do was stay on task. It was too late to give Iz the first-time mating she deserved, but he could do this for her. She was the one with a real life to ease back into, so the best thing Logan could do for her was ensure that she had time to reconnect with her family and friends and experience some ordinary human pleasures again.
Like sex, his mind suggested unhelpfully.No, wait, that sex last night was anything but ordinary.
No, no. No way. He already spent enough time talking to the furry, mythical embodiment of his subconscious. He wasn’t going to start arguing with someotherpart of himself too.
He was surprised to see Iz stirring. He’d expected her to sleep for hours yet after all she must have put into burning their escape tunnel yesterday.
She pushed herself up on one elbow, looking groggy and beautiful. Her silvery blonde hair was mussed, and the sheet fell down her shoulder like a dress she was slipping out of.
“You’re awake,” she said. She rubbed her eyes. “And you’re in a chair.”
He suppressed a smile. Clearly Iz wasn’t a morning person, at least not in her human form. “Yes and yes. I broke your door last night and it won’t lock now, so I thought I’d sit here to make sure no one comes in while you’re trying to sleep. Think of me as a—” He blanked on the words for a second, because of course he did, but they came eventually. “As a human do not disturb sign.”