Logan (6 page)

“You would be drawn to a woman who had a hag’s voice,” Logan said drawing a speculative look from his brother.
 

“I think you’re lying,” she said, sitting down. “It’s okay that you won’t admit it.”
 

“I’m not lying.”
 

Meg opened her mouth to argue no doubt, but Rena interrupted her. “No, he wasn’t affected. I watched him.”
 

“What are you talking about?” Maggie asked.
 

“I looked around the room. He was the only man who was unaffected.”
 

They all turned to look at him.
 

“Hmm, I wonder what that means?” Maggie said.
 

Rena shrugged. “There have been men who were unaffected before.”
 

“Logan isn’t gay, Rena,” Maggie said with a chuckle.
 

Rena let one eyebrow rise in speculation.
 

“I’m not gay,” Logan said.
 

“If you say, human.”
 

“I’m not gay, and I have two hundred years of—”
 

“Remember who’s here,” Angus said with a glance toward Jack.
 

Logan drew back in his temper. Her speculation about his preferences irritated him. Through the years, many people had speculated about his sexuality, and it had never bothered him before.
 

“I think we got off track,” Callum said. “We have a plan. You get in, get the stone, get out.”
 

*  *  *  *
 

“Why do you think he didn’t respond to your singing?” Rena asked when they were alone in her room with Maggie.
 

She shrugged, still unable to put into words how it felt. Coming up with a reason was beyond her at the moment. Dealing with it was too much. She had to return to her beloved Paris, and it wasn’t going to be easy to leave. This time, she was sure she would never be able to return.
 

“It is quite odd,” Maggie said.
 

“I’ve heard it said that only gay men—”
 

“I promise you he isn’t gay, Rena,” Maggie said with a laugh.
 

“If you say so. But, the only other two men who would be family and the chosen one.”
 

“He is not my chosen one.”
 

Both of her friends remained silent.
 

“No.”  They didn’t respond. “I swear he isn’t.”
 

After a long pause, Maggie asked, “How did Morin respond to you when you sang?”
 

“I didn’t try that.”
 

She didn’t see it, but she sensed her friends shared a look.
 

“Why didn’t you use your voice on him?” Maggie asked.
 

“I didn’t need to,” she said turning around and sitting on the windowsill.
 

“How did you meet him?” Rena asked.
 

“Wait, I thought you were there with her in Paris.”
 

“I wasn’t at first. Just at the…end.”
 

It was their turn to share a look.
 

“That sounds ominous,” Maggie said.
 

“It wasn’t pleasant,” Meg said. Rena snorted.
 

“Is there anything beyond what I know now that I need to know?”
 

“No,” Meg said.
 

“He doesn’t know you’re a witch?” Maggie asked.
 

“No.”
 

“Are you sure?”
 

She smiled, though she knew there was no humor in it. “Yes. See Pierre thinks I am a grifter, and that’s why I can’t be trusted.”
 

“I see.”
 

But she would never really know how bad it was. Not those final few days after getting out of jail, thanks to Rena, and the race to leave Paris, one step ahead of Pierre’s henchmen and the press.
 

“Oh, don’t look so glum, Mags. We are going to Paris, the city of light. I have a fantastic apartment. You can see the Eiffel Tower from the living room windows.”
 

And just like that, she pushed the conversation from that painful memory into the excitement of the trip.
 

*  *  *  *
 

Logan rolled over trying to get comfortable in his bed, but he knew it was useless. His brain wouldn’t shut off. The trip ahead, not to mention his companion, had him antsy. He couldn’t seem to quit thinking about the way she had looked tonight, the way she had smiled at him, and the sound of her voice. He had been truthful when he said that he hadn’t been lured by it. But…now he couldn’t get it out of his head.
 

He slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt, and decided to have some tea and biscuits. As he made his way to the kitchen, he started to make a mental list of places he wanted to visit while they were in Paris. It had been a few years since he’d been there. He knew they were there for the quest, but there was no reason he couldn’t enjoy the place. It would be more convincing for their cover story. He might even take Meg to a place or two.
 

Now that he thought back to his last trip, he wondered if they had been there at the same time. He shook his head, as he stepped into the kitchen.
 

He was not alone.
 

Standing at the stove, dressed all in red, was Meg. There was only the light above the stove to lighten the room. Her honey brown curls spilled over her shoulders and her skin appeared almost luminous. He knew she was real, but she looked like an otherworldly vision.
 

He must have moved, because she jumped and spilled some of the boiling water on her hand.
 

“Damn,” she said, and set the kettle back down. He rushed forward.
 

“Did you get burned?”
 

“Well, it was boiling water, so yeah.”
 

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her over to the sink. After turning on the cold water, he stuck her hand under it.
 

“I know how to take care of a burn. I am not an infant.”
 

He heard the annoyance in her voice, and it rubbed against him the wrong way. He did nothing but come down to the kitchen, and she acted as if he had done something horrible.
 

“Feel better?”
 

“Yes.”
 

Logan noticed she didn’t say thank you. He turned off the water and handed her a towel.
 

“Mind sharing your water?”
 

She pursed her lips. “Since you tended my injury, I must be gracious.”
 

He chuckled. “Were you going to have some tea?”
 

She nodded. “Mine always sucks though.”
 

“American.”
 

“Yes and proud of it.”
 

He grabbed some tea and measured it out for two cups.
 

“But you spend all your time here.”
 

She sighed. “I have a soft spot for Scotland. And Ireland, oh and Paris.”
 

“You’ve never been back to Paris since you lived there before?”
 

“No.”
 

No other explanation.
 

“Is there any chance that Morin would have people looking for you?”
 

“No. Well, okay, maybe. I know he keeps someone on the apartment. Last time Rena was there, she saw them.”
 

“And they’re still alive?”
 

She smiled. “Yes, I told her killing them would only cause me more problems, so she abstained. She was very sad though.”
 

The half-fae was definitely deadly.
 

“I know you don’t like me, Logan.”
 

“I don’t trust you.”
 

She sighed. “And you don’t trust, which I don’t blame you. You don’t know me.”
 

He nodded. “Yes, but it doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”
 

She stilled, then swallowed. “So, you like me.”
 

He had been keeping the feelings at bay for weeks. It had taken a lot of his control not to act on the need he had for her. Now, in the dark kitchen, with the silent house around them, he couldn’t resist her. He stepped closer.
 

“More than is good for me,” he said.
 

She looked up at him, her mouth half opened. He could smell the spicy scent of her, the one he dreamed about. It lured him unlike anything else before.
 

“Then…” she broke off.
 

“What?”
 

“Then why do you treat me the way you do? You always look at me as if I disgust you.”
 

He shook his head. “No. You tempt me and we have no time for being muddle-headed for this.”
 

“But?”
 

“Aye, lass, but,” he said, as he slid his hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “I’m tired of resisting.”
 

He damned them both, as he bent his head and kissed her.
 

For a moment, Meghan didn’t respond to Logan. He wondered if he had read the signs wrong, perhaps he had just wanted her so badly that he built up the idea of her attraction. Desperation clawed at him as he continued to kiss her. He wanted her to know just how much he desired her touch.
 

Then, she reacted. Almost in an instant, she went from stoic to liquid heat in his arms. She opened her mouth and pressed up against him but it wasn’t enough. He needed to be closer, to feel her flesh against his, to have her heart beat with his.
 

Logan slipped his hands down her body, enjoying the way his palms moved over her generous curves. It did not take much to urge her closer.  
 

She wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples pressed against his chest, as he slanted his head and deepened the kiss. His tongue dipped into her mouth and she hummed. The sound of it, along with the vibrations, danced through him, tangled with his soul.
 

He backed her up against the counter. He was lost in her. The way she tasted, the way she smelled, the way she slanted her head to give him better access. Need for her, for this feeling she spawned inside of him, grew, expanded, overwhelmed. Logan ground against her, allowing Meg to know just how aroused he was, just how much he wanted her.
 

 In the next second, the kettle whistled. They both jumped apart as if they had been committing a crime.
 

Neither of them said a word, their heavy breathing and the kettle the only sound in the kitchen. She was the first to recover. She hurried over to the stove and removed the teakettle. He watched her, trying to catch his breath and think of something to say.
 

“I think I will just go to bed,” she said, without turning around.
 

She moved past him but he stopped her. He wrapped his hand around her delicate wrist. She turned to look at him and in that instant, he saw the vulnerability he had always
sensed but never witnessed. She didn’t look like the hardened grifter, but like a woman with a heart that could be damaged.
 

“Please don’t.”
 

He barely heard her whisper, but he did hear the way her voice quivered. He could have her. Logan knew it and so did she. They could throw caution to the wind and make love, right there.
 

It would be soul shattering…and devastating.
 

He looked down at his hand on her wrist.
 

“Logan, please.”
 

 It was a simple request and for a moment, he wanted to say no. He never manhandled women, and he wasn’t ready to start now. But…he hated that she was leaving like this.
 

“I’m sorry.”
 

The moment he said the words, her face paled. He regretted them more than anything else that had happened between them. He wanted to call them back, but she didn’t give him a chance. Her eyes hardened and she ground her teeth together.
 

“That’s makes two of us.” She wrenched her arm away from him, and hurried out of the kitchen.
 

He leaned against the counter and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the way his body had responded. It wasn’t that he’d been attracted to her, or he wanted to shag her until both of them could not walk a straight line, that scared him. There was something else that had him worrying. That one little kiss had touched something inside of him.
 

They weren’t going to be able to ignore it. If they never saw each other again, he would still want her. Not the normal kind of need that he was accustomed to. This was something that he knew would leave them both damaged if things went wrong.
 

Logan thought back to the kiss, the way she had felt in his arms, and the way it had just felt…right. He kept his relationships easy. He could count his former lovers among his friends…those that were still alive. He knew without a doubt, with the level of need he felt for Meghan, there would be no friendship if it failed.
 

But for the life of him, Logan couldn’t stop thinking it would definitely be worth it.
 

* * * *
 

Meg made it to her room before she broke down. She shut the door, locked it, then leaned back up against it. It wasn’t to keep Logan out, it was to keep her in.
 

Her body was still shaking from the brief kiss. It had been simple, not all that erotic, but she yearned. God, she ached from it.
 

She knew what that meant. Shaking her head, she walked away from the door as if it were on fire. She didn’t need this. He wasn’t supposed to be her
one
. She wanted to help the Clan, but not be part of it, tied to a man who didn’t accept her for who she was.