Chapter 25
T he drive back to Covenant House was a blur of conflicting emotions. My mind raced with thoughts of the meeting at Courts House, the unexpected alliance with Megan, and the looming reality of spending the night in Logan's room. As we pulled up to the imposing structure that had become my prison and home, I felt a strange mix of relief and dread. Relief that the public performance was over, and dread for what was to come. Logan cut the engine, and for a moment, we sat in silence. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me, but I kept my eyes fixed on the dashboard, afraid of what I might see if I looked at him. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and controlled.
"You did well tonight. I'm impressed." I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. Part of me wanted to bask in his approval, while another part recoiled at the idea of seeking his validation. Before I could formulate a response, Logan was out of the car and opening my door. As I stepped out, the cool night air hit my skin, making me shiver. Or perhaps it was the anticipation of what was to come that sent chills down my spine.
We made our way to the entrance, Logan's hand resting possessively on the small of my back. The touch, which should have repulsed me, instead sent a confusing jolt of electricity through my body. I hated myself for it, for the way my traitorous body responded to him despite everything he'd done. As we entered the foyer, we were greeted by Cole, his mismatched eyes scanning us both before settling on Logan.
"Welcome back," he said, his tone neutral. "There's food prepared in the dining room if you're hungry." Logan nodded, guiding me towards the dining room.
As we entered, I saw Ryder sitting alone at the long table, a dark scowl marring his handsome features. The moment he saw us, his expression twisted into something uglier, more dangerous. Without a word, he stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly as he let it crash to the floor. He stormed past us, deliberately bumping Logan's shoulder as he went. Logan let out a frustrated sigh.
"He's still pissed, then," he muttered, more to himself than to us. Cole, who had followed us in, picked up Ryder's fallen chair.
"He wanted to be the first one," he said with a shrug. "You knew that, Logan." I frowned, confusion mixing with the anxiety that had been my constant companion.
"First one what?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Logan chuckled, the sound devoid of any real humour. He turned to me, his hazel eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something darker.
"First one to have you in his room, Princess. I changed the plan, and our dear Ryder isn't happy about it." His words hit me like a physical blow. I felt the blood drain from my face as the full implication of what he was saying sank in. They had planned this, discussed who would get to... to what? Sleep with me first? The room seemed to spin, and I gripped the back of a chair to steady myself. Logan, either oblivious to or uncaring about my distress, sighed again.
"I should go talk to him. Can't have him sulking all night." He turned to me, his expression suddenly stern. "Get ready. I'll be in my room soon."
With that, he strode out of the dining room, leaving me alone with Cole. I stood there, frozen, trying to process everything that had just happened. Cole cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to him.
"You should eat something," he said, gesturing to the food laid out on the table. His voice was softer than usual, almost kind. "It's been a long day." I nodded mechanically, sinking into a chair. Cole placed a plate in front of me, filled with what looked like some kind of pasta dish. The smell would have been appetising under normal circumstances, but now it just made my stomach churn.
"What did he mean?" I asked, looking up at Cole. "About getting ready?" Cole's expression was unreadable as he sat down across from me.
"I think you know," he said quietly. "Tonight, you're sleeping in Logan's room." I felt a hysterical laugh bubble up in my throat, but I choked it back.
"Sleep," I repeated, the word tasting bitter on my tongue. "Is that what we're calling it?" Cole didn't answer, his mismatched eyes filled with an emotion I couldn't quite decipher. Was it pity? Regret? Or something else entirely? After a moment, he spoke again, his voice low and urgent.
"Listen to me, Pet. I know this isn't what you want. I know it's not fair. But right now, the best thing you can do is play along. Don't fight him. Don't provoke him. Just... survive." His words sent a chill down my spine. Was he trying to help me, or was this just another form of manipulation? I couldn't tell anymore. Trust felt like a luxury I could no longer afford.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked, searching his face for any sign of deception. Cole leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.
"Because I've seen what happens when people push Logan too far. And, despite what you think, I don't want to see that happen to you." The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard. For a moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, Cole wasn't entirely on board with what was happening. But then I remembered how he had participated in my capture, in the "claiming" ritual. He was just as guilty as the others.
"I should go," I said, pushing my untouched plate away. "I need to... get ready." Cole nodded, his expression grave. As I stood to leave, he spoke once more.
"Cade," he said, causing me to pause. "Remember what I said. Survive."
I left the dining room without looking back, my mind a whirlwind of fear, anger, and confusion. As I made my way up the grand staircase, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was walking to my own execution. The hallway leading to my room felt longer than ever, each step bringing me closer to a reality I wasn't sure I could face.
Once inside my room, I leaned against the closed door, trying to steady my breathing. The enormity of what was about to happen threatened to overwhelm me. I needed to shower, to wash away the stress and tension of the day, but the thought of being naked, even alone in my bathroom, made me feel vulnerable. Still, I forced myself to move.
I stripped off my clothes, avoiding my reflection in the mirror, and stepped into the shower. As the hot water cascaded over me, I tried to clear my mind, to find some semblance of calm. But all I could think about was Logan, his hands on me, his voice in my ear. The memory of his touch, both gentle and forceful, sent an unwelcome shiver through me.
I stayed under the water until it ran cold, using the sting of it to shock myself back to reality. As I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel, I noticed something on my bed that hadn't been there before. A black silk chemise lay neatly folded on top of the covers, a small note resting on it. With trembling hands, I picked up the note. The handwriting was elegant and precise, unmistakably Logan's.
"Wear this. Only this. Come to my room when you're ready. Don't keep me waiting."
I stared at the chemise, my heart pounding in my chest. It was beautiful, the kind of lingerie I'd never owned before. The fabric was soft and cool to the touch, but it might as well have been made of thorns for how it made me feel. I slipped it on, hating how perfectly it fit, how it clung to every curve. It was short, barely reaching mid-thigh, and the neckline plunged lower than I was comfortable with. I felt exposed, vulnerable, exactly how they wanted me to feel.
For a moment, I considered putting on a robe over it. Surely, I could at least cover myself for the walk to Logan's room? But then I remembered Cole's words. Don't provoke him. Survive. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I realised that even this small act of modesty might be seen as defiance.
Taking a deep breath, I opened my door and stepped into the hallway. The wood floor was cold beneath my bare feet as I made my way to Logan's room. Each step felt like I was walking deeper into a trap, one I had no hope of escaping. As I raised my hand to knock on Logan's door, movement caught my eye. The door next to Logan's opened, and Ryder stepped out. He was wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his muscular chest bare. His eyes raked over me, a hungry look that made me want to cover myself.
"Well, well," he drawled, leaning against his door frame. "Aren't you a sight, Poison?" I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation, but I forced myself to meet his gaze.
"I need to see Logan," I said, hating how small my voice sounded. Ryder's eyes narrowed, a flash of anger crossing his face.
"Of course you do," he spat. "Lucky fucking Logan, always getting what he wants." Before I could respond, Logan's door swung open. He stood there, also shirtless, wearing only a pair of low-hanging sweatpants. The snake tattoo that wound around his arm seemed to move in the dim light of the hallway.
"Problem, Ryder?" Logan asked, his voice deceptively calm. Ryder glared at him for a long moment before pushing off his door frame.
"No problem," he growled. "Enjoy your night." With that, he retreated back into his room, slamming the door behind him. Logan turned his attention to me, his eyes travelling slowly down my body. I fought the urge to cross my arms over my chest, to hide from his scrutiny. Instead, I stood there, frozen as he reached out and ran a finger along the strap of the chemise. He then stepped back, opening the door wider.
"Come in," he said, and it wasn't a request. I took a deep breath and stepped into Logan's room. The door closed behind me with a soft click, the sound seeming to echo in the sudden silence. I stood there, unsure of what to do as Logan moved around me.
His room was larger than mine, dominated by a massive four-poster bed. The decor was masculine and minimalist, with dark wood furniture and deep, rich colours. A large desk stood against one wall, covered in papers and an open laptop. Logan walked over to the desk, closing the laptop with a decisive click.
"You did well tonight," he said, not looking at me. "I was impressed with how you handled yourself at the meeting." I swallowed hard, unsure how to respond.
"Thank you," I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper. He turned to face me then, his eyes dark with an emotion I couldn't quite read. In three long strides, he was in front of me, so close I could feel the heat radiating from his body. His hand came up to cup my face, his thumb tracing my lower lip.
"You're trembling," he observed, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Are you afraid of me, Princess?" I wanted to lie, to show some semblance of strength, but I couldn't find the words. Instead I just stared up at him, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. Logan's hand slid down my neck, over my collarbone, and down my torso, his thumb grazing over my nipple before coming to rest on my hip.
"You shouldn't be afraid," he said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you. Not tonight, at least." His words, meant to be reassuring, sent a chill down my spine. Not tonight. The implication that he might hurt me in the future hung heavy in the air between us.
Logan's hand moved again, this time sliding up under the hem of the chemise. I gasped as his fingers brushed against my bare skin, realising too late that he was checking that I wasn't wearing anything underneath.
"Good girl," he said again, his voice rougher now. "At least you can follow some instructions." His hand continued its exploration, moving higher, and I found myself frozen in place. Part of me wanted to push him away, to run from the room and never look back. But another part, a part I hated, responded to his touch. My body betrayed me, reacting to him even as my mind screamed in protest. Logan leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear.
"Get in the bed," he whispered, the command clear in his voice.
I moved mechanically, climbing onto the massive bed. The sheets were cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat I felt building inside me. I watched as Logan moved around the room, turning off lights until only a small lamp on the bedside table remained lit. He stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes never leaving mine as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants. In one fluid motion, he pushed them down and stepped out of them, revealing that he wore nothing underneath. I couldn't help but stare, my face burning with a mixture of embarrassment and unwanted arousal.
Logan was beautiful in a dangerous, predatory way. His body was all lean muscle and smooth skin, marred only by the intricate tattoo that wrapped around his arm and side. But my eyes were drawn to the apex of his thighs, as his cock stood very much to attention. I gulped at the size; there was no way that thing was going to fit inside me. A chuckle caught my attention, and I looked up to see Logan smirking at me and flushed with embarrassment at being caught looking.
He climbed onto the bed, moving with a grace that reminded me of a big cat stalking its prey. I instinctively moved back, pressing myself against the headboard. Logan just smirked, settling himself on the other side of the bed.
"Relax, Princess," he said, reaching over to turn off the lamp. "We're just going to sleep." The room plunged into darkness, and I felt my heart rate spike. I lay there, rigid with tension, listening to Logan's steady breathing beside me. Minutes passed, feeling like hours, and still nothing happened.
Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, I whispered, "What happens now?" Logan's chuckle cut through the darkness, sending a shiver down my spine.
"Why, Princess," he said, his voice low and teasing, "what do you want to happen?" Before I could respond, I felt the bed shift. Suddenly, Logan was on top of me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. I let out a startled gasp as he pinned my arms above my head with one hand, his other hand pushing my legs apart.
"Is this what you want?" he growled, his breath hot against my neck. "Do you want me to force my way into this tight little pussy and fuck you raw?" I whimpered, torn between fear and a traitorous arousal that I couldn't suppress. Logan's free hand slid between my legs, his fingers teasing my entrance.
"You're so wet for me already," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Such a good little slut, aren't you? So eager for my cock." I felt him positioning himself, the head of his cock pressing against me. I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable pain of his intrusion. But it didn't come. Instead, Logan chuckled again, the sound dark and menacing.
"But you haven't earned it yet, Princess," he said, pulling back slightly. "You're going to have to beg me before I fuck you. And trust me, you will beg." He kept pushing his cock against me, never quite entering, the teasing pressure driving me mad.
"When I finally fuck you," he continued, his voice a low growl, "I'm going to make you forget everything. Your name, where you are, everything but the feeling of my cock inside you. Your whole world will be focused on me." And then, just as suddenly as he had pounced, Logan rolled off me. I lay there panting, my body thrumming with unfulfilled desire.
"Until then," Logan said, his voice now cold and distant, "fucking go to sleep."
I stared into the darkness, my mind reeling. What had just happened? Why did he stop? And why, despite everything, did I feel so frustratingly unsatisfied? As I lay there, listening to Logan's breathing even out beside me, I realised that this was just another form of control. He was manipulating my body, my desires, just as he manipulated everything else in my life. And the worst part was, it was working. I closed my eyes, trying to will myself to sleep, but I knew it would be a long time coming. My body still hummed with arousal, and my mind raced with questions and fears about what the future held. One thing was certain: this was only the beginning of Logan's games, and I was terrifyingly out of my depth.