Elowen's POV
He sat rigid at the edge of the bed, his knuckles white where his fingers locked together. His gaze drilled into the wall—like it held answers to something unspoken. He didn't even flinch when the door creaked open.
"Logan?" I stepped in to grab a towel from the bathroom.
I'd pulled off my gown in the hallway and had nothing on me—just naked—the cold could squeeze the life out of me. My arms clasped tightly around my body, but the rain silenced my footsteps.
He hadn't noticed my presence.
I climbed the bed from behind him. Still no reaction. When I got close enough, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. "Too lost in thoughts about me?"
He flinched. "Oh…"
Soft laughter escaped my lips as I held firmly to him. The towel loosened and slid off, exposing my body again.
"You came in," he muttered, "and I didn't even notice." Then his brows creased. "Were you sneaking on me?"
I rolled my eyes, the smile still broad on my face. "Hell no."
I pushed him against the bed, my lips coming too close to his ears. "We shouldn't waste this cold moment… I'm all yours."
My exposed boobs rested on his chest.
"My body is changing." My breath touched his ears, and his head tilted to the tingling sensation. "It's adapting… to be more like a werewolf's?"
He sighed. He should have pinned me down as he always did, but instead, his eyes faced the roof.
My fingers traced down to his waistband. "It's cold outside… I need your warmth."
He got off the bed by about three steps. The moonlight aiming through the window illuminated his face— it seemed to portray many emotions at once.
"What's that look?" I took his hands in mine. "A werewolf's kind of stare?"
He sighed the second time in the same moment. "You keep reminding me that I have to hide the fact you're human," he muttered, then he swallowed a lump down his throat. "And now…"
He stopped, continuing his stare. I noticed his hands quivered at his sides. Perhaps someone offended him? Or something else?
"What? It's about your sick mum?"
"Hmmm… yeah, but…" he took in breath. "And now…"
"She would be okay," I said, nodding.
"It's not just that, I have—"
I made our lips touch, turned into a kiss. At first, it was one-sided, but soon, he loosened up. His hands cupped my boobs, pulling me closer as though to merge our bodies into one.
His scent of fresh grapes came strongly. I couldn't get enough of it.
But then… he stopped. His breath was ragged.
"No." He pulled off, his hand against his chest. "Not now."
He got to the window, looked outside as though watching out for a guest, his fingers holding tightly to the rods behind the net.
I hugged him from behind. "It's been three years, Logan, and it still feels new when you hold me. Everytime we are together… it's everything to me."
"Stop." He nudged me off.
He got to the wardrobe, opened it and brought out a dress I couldn't have worn to bed.
"Get dressed." He dropped it on the bed. "Cover up."
"What for?" I frowned.
His jaw tightened for a second, his fingers digging into his palms. "Just cover up… get dressed."
I stepped closer as though to initiate another kiss, but instead, studied his eyes. They were wet, but not enough to let out a tear.
"Are we going out? At this hour under this pouring rain?"
His jaw weakened. No answer, but slid his back down the wall to sit on the bare floor, sweat trickling down his face as his head bent low.
"Crazy stuff happened? Not just about your mother?" I sat on the bed. "We could go out to meet her now… if you want."
He raised his gaze to be on me. His lips moved, but the torrent drained out his words.
All I caught was a soft, almost inaudible "sorry"
My brows furrowed. "Sorry for what?"
He didn't answer.
The air grew heavier, and I'd lost the cold feeling on my skin. The silence between us pressed on my chest like a heavy weight.
"Logan?" My voice raised slightly. "Tell me what's going on—"
A bang at the door to the sitting room cut me shut.
It was past midnight. Too late for visitors—if we ever had any.
I hurried into the sitting room, tugging on the gown Logan had dropped on the bed as he followed behind me.
The door slammed open before I could reach it.
"Logan!" A burly man, a werewolf, stormed in, his eyes burning. "Where's she? The human?"
Now, the chill in the air clawed at my skin, but the man's gaze made it worse. He stared directly at me, momentarily looking at Logan, waiting for an answer.
I began to sweat because he mentioned "human". And almost a minute had passed, Logan hadn't said a word. He breathed loudly like the words he needed to say were too heavy for his lips.
"The human…" he muttered, swallowing a heavy lump down his throat.
"What's… what's this about?" My voice cracked.
"Sorry." His voice was low.
"About what?"
Strange thoughts came to mind—did he tell the werewolf about me? About my being human?
My heart beat hard as though to escape my chest.
Outside, two more men stood in the pouring rain. I barely noticed the cold anymore, my thoughts wouldn't let me focus on it.
"She's the human you told Alpha Asher about?" The first man growled.
Logan nodded, avoiding my gaze.
Before I could move, the two men grabbed me—one by my arms, the other by my legs.
"Logan! Logan!" I thrashed in their grip, struggling to make him react.
He stepped outside slowly, shaking his head like a man sleepwalking through a nightmare. But he stopped, watching. He didn't fight. He did nothing.
In his eyes, I saw something I hadn't seen before. Not love. Not anger. Something like guilt. Or fear?
"Logan sold you out," one of the werewolves snarled, grinning as his grip bit into my arm. "Alpha's orders."
I thrashed, my scream raw. "Logan, look at me!"
He stood frozen in the rain, his face a mask—but his hands trembled. "I had no choice," he whispered. "The cure for my mother… it was the only way."
And just like that, memories from three years ago tore open like fresh wounds. The day he'd saved me from rogue wolves was still fresh in my mind. We'd become lovers, and he'd kept my humanity a secret for my own safety.
His words pierced deep into my heart like a thousand daggers in my chest.
Was this betrayal?
***
The last thing I remembered was the cart jolting over roots, the werewolves' laughter smothering my screams. Then—black until candlelight stung my eyes along with the smell of herbs getting through my nostrils, and a woman's face swam to view.
"Elowen," the woman called.
Her voice carried a strong silence that I still felt amidst the storm in my heart.
I jerked upwards with a heavy breath like I'd broken through chains, and my eyes scanned the room. The brick walls and the beamed ceiling seemed to press against me, and the space in the room that could contain three extra beds couldn't stop it.
"You're conscious." The woman left her seat to stand closer to the bed.
"This place… where am I?" I asked, my throat dry, and forcing breath through my lungs.
"Someplace safe in the Moonlight pack," she said. "For now."
"The… Moonlight pack…"
She nodded.
I pulled the blanket off my body so it fell off to the floor, but my muscles were too weak to get me on my feet.
"Easy," she reached out for my arms.
I yanked her off. "Who are you?"
"I'm Freya." Her smile didn't touch her eyes. "Your keeper. For now."
Her gaze lingered on my necklace—not admiration, but like she could read through it even though it had no markings on it. Her eyes came closer.
My fingers clutched it around my neck. "Don't. It's mine."
"You've managed to keep it up to this point." She sighed. "Must be so important."
She stepped back, heading towards the door, but still had her eyes on it.
"Keep it aside so it stays safe."
The door creaked open.
The man who walked stopped a few steps from the doorpost when our eyes met.
Freya rushed to kneel. "Alpha."
"The human?" He asked, his eyes not leaving me for even a second.
I froze.
"Yes," Freya replied. "Elowen."
His voice—It was like a speaker implanted in my head, or like a melody I'd heard, or perhaps something too close to his voice?
Memories flashed, but nothing of him. Just the scene of my late parents' death, but that had no business with him, did it?
Except I couldn't remember.
His knee touched the wooden frame of the bed, his gaze like fingertips on my skin. "Elowen?"
I sniffled.
His scent—rain on grasses—clawed at a memory I couldn't place. My skin prickled. I'd never seen him before, so why did his voice rake nails down my spine?
"Elowen," he said again, testing my name like a key. And for a heartbeat I feared it might fit.