Chapter Six
CHAPTER SIX
LOGAN
She sleeps like she does everything else - carefully, precisely, curled on her side with one hand still reaching toward where her notebook fell. Even unconscious, she's trying to document everything. The thought makes my chest tight with equal parts frustration and affection.
The power flickers again, throwing shadows across her face. In the dim light, I can see where my mark stands out against her throat, darker and more defined than it should be after only twenty-seven hours. Like her body is accepting the claim even as her mind fights it.
She shifts in her sleep, moving closer until her head tucks under my chin. The gesture is pure wolf instinct, seeking pack, seeking mate, and my arms tighten around her automatically. Her scent has changed since yesterday - still uniquely her, but now wrapped in mine, in us. Any other wolf would recognize her as claimed, as mine.
If only I could get her to see it.
The wind howls outside, rattling the windows, but in here everything is warm, quiet. Safe. She makes a small sound and burrows closer, her hand fisting in my shirt. No careful scientific distance now. No walls between us.
"Logan?" Her voice is sleep-rough, but I catch the edge of anxiety as she starts to wake. Feel her body tense as consciousness brings back her careful controls.
"Right here." I run my hand down her spine, feeling her wolf respond even as she tries to pull away. "Power's about to go out."
That gets her attention. She sits up, sheet clutched to her chest, already reaching for her notebook. "What time is it? I need to record the interval since the last fever wave and-"
"Mira." I catch her hand before she can retreat fully into research mode. "Look at me."
She meets my eyes reluctantly, and I watch the battle play across her features - the scientist wanting to document, the wolf wanting to curl back into my arms.
"Twenty-seven hours," she whispers, like she's confessing something. "The fever should be starting to fade. Your protective instincts should be decreasing. Instead..." She trails off, glancing at where I'm still holding her hand.
"Instead?"
"Instead, I can feel your wolf like he's right under your skin. Instead, I want..." She pulls her hand free, runs it through her tangled hair. "I need my notebook."
The lights flicker again, longer this time, and she makes a small sound of distress.
"My laptop. I need to save my data before-"
"I have a generator." I sit up, fighting the urge to pull her back against me. "Small one, but enough for your research. Though..." I let my voice soften. "You could try experiencing things instead of just recording them."
"Experiencing things is what got us into this situation." But there's no heat in her words, and she doesn't move away when I reach out to brush her hair back from her face.
"No, your flowers got us into this situation." I trace the claiming mark gently, feel her shiver. "And I'm starting to think they knew exactly what they were doing."
"Flowers don't think." But she tilts her head, bearing her throat to my touch. "They don't have consciousness or intent or..."
Her words trail off into a soft sound as I lean in to press my lips to the mark.
"What was that about scientific objectivity?" I murmur against her skin.
"I hate you a little right now."
"No." I smile against her throat. "You don't."
The lights go out completely.
Her sharp intake of breath has nothing to do with my touch this time. I feel her anxiety spike, her scent turning sharp with it.
"The research-"
"Will wait five minutes." I keep my voice steady, gentling my hold when she tries to pull away. "Let your eyes adjust first."
"But-"
"Five minutes." I press my forehead to hers, sharing breath in the darkness. "Trust your wolf's eyes. They're stronger than you think."
She stills at that, and I feel the moment she stops fighting it. Her body relaxes slightly as her enhanced vision kicks in - another sign that her wolf is more present than ever, though I know better than to point that out right now.
"I can see," she whispers, sounding almost surprised.
"Better than human sight, isn't it?"
"That's not... I've never..." She swallows hard. "The other cases didn't mention enhanced senses developing. Their wolves stayed dormant throughout the fever cycle."
I bite back the words I want to say about what makes this different. About mate bonds and true claims. She's not ready to hear it.
"We should get the generator set up," she says, but she doesn't move from our shared space. "Before my laptop battery dies. Before..."
"Before you can document how your wolf is growing stronger instead of retreating?" The words slip out before I can stop them.
She tenses. "That's not-"
"Your heart rate picks up when you lie to me." I brush my thumb over her pulse point. "Another new development?"
"Stop." But her wolf pushes into the touch even as she tries to pull away. "Please. I can't... I need..."
"What do you need?"
"Distance." The word sounds like it hurts her. "Space to think. To record what's happening before..."
The lights flicker back on suddenly, making her jump. For just a moment, I catch the fear in her eyes before she masks it.
"Generator," she says firmly, pulling away. "Now. Please."
This time, I let her go. But we both know it's getting harder every time.
"The generator's frozen." I close the shed door against another blast of wind, not looking forward to telling her. "Engine's iced over completely."
Mira stands in the doorway, wearing my flannel and clutching her laptop like a lifeline. The battery icon blinks red.
"How long?" She asks, and we both know she's not just talking about the power.
"Storm's getting worse." I move past her into the cabin, already headed for the fireplace. "We need to focus on staying warm."
"Logan." Her voice is steady now. "How long on the generator?"
"Until the storm breaks." I start laying a fire, larger than usual. "At least twenty-four hours, probably more."
She nods, already moving to her notebook as her laptop screen goes dark. "That's fine. I have my hardcopy notes. Though the battery dying does limit my ability to cross-reference with previous cases..."
Something in my chest eases at her practical tone. This is the scientist I first met, adapting to new parameters.
"Come help me with the fire," I say, watching her settle near the hearth with her notebook. "Standing here in the cold won't help your research."
"Actually..." She's already writing, but she shifts closer to hand me kindling. "The temperature drop might affect fever progression. We should monitor that."
Our fingers brush as I take the wood from her, and I catch her slight shiver. "Always the scientist."
"Someone has to be." But there's a hint of a smile in her voice as she makes another note. "Especially since you seem determined to be distracting."
"Distracting?" I stack the wood carefully, definitely not flexing more than necessary. "I'm just building a fire."
Her pen pauses. "You know exactly what you're doing."
"Do I?" I reach past her for more kindling, letting my chest brush her shoulder. "Maybe you should document it. For science."
Her laugh is soft but real. "You're impossible."
"And yet you're still taking notes about me."
"These are very important observations."
"Mhmm." I light the fire, watching her from the corner of my eye. "And what are you observing right now, doctor?"
She ducks her head, but not before I catch her blush. "That's classified data."
"Classified?" I lean back on my heels, watching the fire catch. "I thought I was your research subject. Don't I have a right to know what you're writing about me?"
She clutches the notebook closer, but I catch her fighting a smile. "Subject privacy is at the researcher's discretion."
"Is that so?" I shift to sit beside her, close enough to feel her warmth but not touching. "And if the subject wants to provide additional data?"
"Additional..." Her breath catches as I lean closer, scenting along her neck. "That's not... I mean, the parameters of the study..."
"Yes?" My lips brush her ear. "Tell me more about these parameters."
She makes a valiant attempt at a scientific tone, though her pulse gives her away. "The current focus is on fever progression and its effects on pack dynamics in relation to..."
I nip gently at the claiming mark, and her words dissolve into a soft sound that's pure wolf.
"Sorry," I murmur against her skin. "What was that about pack dynamics?"
"You..." She swallows hard. "You're interfering with the documentation process."
"Am I?" I pull back just enough to see her face in the firelight. "Or am I providing valuable experiential data?"
Her laugh is shaky. "That's a very scientific way of saying you're being a tease."
"See? I can speak your language." I reach for her notebook, slowly enough that she could stop me. She doesn't. "Now, what exactly are you writing about me?"
The fire crackles as she watches me open to her latest entry, and I catch the exact moment her scientific confidence wavers.
"Logan..." There's a warning in her voice, but also something softer. Something afraid.
'Hour 27 - Subject showing no signs of decreased fever response. Pack bonds strengthening instead of weakening. Wolf-to-wolf recognition continuing despite inability to shift. Claiming mark darkening (see previous notes re: unprecedented developments). Growing evidence that previous cases cannot be used as accurate predictors for current situation. Personal note: Afraid to hope this means...'
The entry cuts off there, like she couldn't bring herself to finish the thought.
"Mira." I close the notebook gently. "Look at me."
She stares into the fire instead. "It's just data. Observations. Nothing-"
"What are you afraid to hope?"
Her hands twist in her lap. "Don't ask me that. Please."
I set the notebook aside, turn to face her fully. The firelight catches the gold flecks in her eyes - another sign of her strengthening wolf that she's probably documented somewhere.
"What if I already know?" I keep my voice soft. "What if I'm hoping for the same thing?"
"You can't know that." But she doesn't pull away when I take her hands. "The fever-"
"Isn't making me hope you'll stay." I bring her fingers to my lips. "It's just making it harder to pretend I don't want you to."
"Logan." His name comes out like a plea. "Don't. Not when we still have hours until..."
"Until what? Until your research says this should end. Until you can convince yourself this isn't real?"
A log shifts in the fire, sending sparks up the chimney. In the fresh light, I see tears gathering in her eyes.
"Until you remember I'm broken."
A growl builds in my chest before I can stop it. "You're not broken."
"You can't know that." She tries to pull her hands away, but I hold on. "The research-"
"Shows that this is different." I gesture to her notebook. "Your own words, right there. Previous cases can't predict this."
"Because something's wrong." Now she does yank free, wrapping her arms around herself. "The fever should be fading. The claiming mark should be disappearing. My wolf should be retreating, not getting stronger. Everything about this is wrong."
"Or everything about this is right." I reach for her again, but she scrambles to her feet.
"Don't." She backs away from the fire, from me. "Don't make this harder. Please."
"Harder than what? Than watching you fight what's happening? Than feeling your wolf reach for mine even while you're planning for this to end?"
"Stop." But her voice breaks on the word. "Just... just stop."
I stand slowly, careful not to crowd her. "Tell me something, doctor. In all your research, did any of your previous cases involve a wolf who could sense emotions? Who could feel pack bonds forming? Who could see in the dark?"
She shakes her head. "That's not-"
"Did any of them involve a wolf who could recognize their mate's scent?"
The word lands between us like a physical thing. Her eyes go wide.
"Don't," she whispers. "Don't say that word."
"Why not? Because it's not in your research notes? Because it scares you more than the fever does?"
"Because it's impossible!" The words burst out of her. "Because mates can't... I can't... I'm not..."
This time when I reach for her, she lets me pull her close.
"You're not what?" I murmur into her hair. "Not worthy? Not whole? Not exactly what my wolf has been waiting for?"
Her tears are hot against my chest. "Logan, please..."
"Please what?"
"Please don't make me believe you." Her voice cracks. "Not when I only have hours left to lose you."