Chapter Nine #2
Nick grabbed him by the hair and kissed him, hard. Logan’s cock was leaking pre-cum, so he jerked himself with quick, rough strokes. Nick watched, his eyes glazed, then reached down and closed a hand over Logan’s, squeezing tight.
“Showoff,” Nick whispered.
Logan laughed then came, striping Nick’s hip. He jerked a few more times then collapsed over him, both of them sticky and spent.
They lay there in silence, just breathing, letting it settle in.
Nick poked at the mess on his side. “This your way of marking territory?”
“Could be.” Logan was too lazy to move. “Or maybe I just like seeing you a wreck.”
Nick rolled his eyes, wiped off with the sheet. “Is this why shifters keep so many sheets in the house? Expecting to get jizz everywhere?”
Logan huffed a laugh. “Ask Sloane. He’s the one who does the shopping.”
Nick grinned. “Maybe next time we try for ‘not in the bedding.’ Like, maybe the shower?”
“Or the kitchen table.” Logan pressed a kiss to Nick’s jaw. “Or the truck.”
Logan watched the way Nick’s lips twisted, half-smirk, half-real smile. He brushed hair off Nick’s face then rested his hand on his mate’s chest, just above his heart. His skin was warm, golden, alive.
“Still scared?” Logan asked, his voice softer now.
Nick shook his head. “No. Just…waiting for the next weird thing to happen to me.”
Logan smiled, slow and genuine. “Not today, sweetheart. Today, you get to just exist.”
Nick curled closer, their bodies pressed together. Logan draped an arm across Nick’s stomach, thumbing lazy circles on the skin below the ribs.
They didn’t bother with words for a while. The house was quiet, nobody banging on the door or shouting about pack business. Small moments like this, Logan could almost believe they’d get a happy ending.
Nick started drifting, his breath slowing.
Logan listened, cataloguing every detail. The way Nick’s chest rose and fell, the small scar on his shoulder, the bite mark already fading on his neck.
He’d never wanted someone so much. Not just the sex but the way Nick fit against him and how Nick kept the world from feeling pointless.
Logan pressed his mouth to Nick’s ear. “Next time you tease me about whether I’m being a gentleman, remember how you sucked me off and begged for more like it was your last meal.”
Nick snorted. “You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Nope.”
Nick poked him in the ribs. “Jerk.”
Logan bit him on the neck, gentle this time. “You love it.”
Nick didn’t argue.
* * * *
Logan held on to Nick, savoring the feel of his mate tangled up with him.
He kept his lips close, letting the guy breathe, letting him have a minute to just exist. Around them, the house went silent.
No one came pounding at the door. No one shouted about wolf business or started drama.
That feeling, the quiet, it was everything Logan never knew he wanted.
He stroked Nick’s thigh, lazy, just enough to keep the guy from disappearing back into his head.
Nick’s breathing evened out. The tension bled out of his body, and he went loose, almost boneless.
Logan resisted the urge to tease. The way Nick responded to his touch, to the most basic comfort, made something primal settle deep in Logan’s gut.
“You ever had ice cream for breakfast?” Logan asked, nipping Nick’s ear.
Nick snorted, his voice muffled against Logan’s bicep. “Had whiskey for breakfast. That count?”
Logan’s laugh rolled out low. He squeezed Nick’s hip then eased him off the bed, guiding him through the mechanics of dressing like Nick was a puppy learning to walk. Each touch, each brush of skin, made Nick melt a little more, exposing new nerves just waiting for Logan to touch.
By the time they staggered downstairs, Logan practically carried Nick to the door. A few wolves were lounging in the living room, giving the new mate a healthy amount of distance, but curious eyes followed them. Logan didn’t even blink. He just kept moving, one arm locked around Nick’s waist.
Outside, Nick relaxed against him, his lips still swollen from being ravished minutes ago. Logan wanted to drag him right back up to bed, but the urge to show Nick off, to let him see some sense of normal, was stronger.
They hit the truck, and Nick hesitated at the door. Logan pressed him up against the cab, his mouth an inch from Nick’s. “You want to stay in? Or you want to get the best damn ice cream in Crimson Hollow?”
Nick blinked. His pulse hammered under his jaw, fast and wild. “Ice cream. But only if they have cookie dough.”
Logan opened the door and boosted him into the passenger seat. “You got it. Cookie dough, or I burn the place down.”
The place looked dead at this hour. Logan drove one-handed, the other on Nick’s thigh. He didn’t bother hiding it. Nick squirmed, either from arousal or the pain twisting his stomach, but he didn’t complain.
“You sure you’re good?” Logan glanced over as he turned onto Main.
Nick shot him a look. “If you keep caressing my thigh like that, something else is gonna need attention before we get there.”
Logan’s mouth curled. “Always happy to provide curbside service.”
Nick barked a laugh. For a second, the darkness in him faded. Logan relaxed, just driving, pretending like they weren’t a vampire and wolf mated for life and about to raise a baby together.
He found a spot at the ice cream shack, right in front. The joint was busy. Teenagers hung by the benches, loud and obnoxious. Families with sticky kids, retirees with big hats. Not exactly Logan’s scene, but if Nick wanted cookie dough, he’d make it happen.
They climbed out. The crowd startled Nick, made him stiffen and pause. Logan stepped in, crowding Nick’s back, his lips nearly brushing his ear. “Ignore everyone. They’re nothing but human noise. You just focus on me.”
Nick barely nodded, but Logan felt the relief ripple through him. He steered Nick to the counter, hugged close like a bodyguard or some messed-up boyfriend who didn’t know boundaries.
The server, a girl with tattoos and green hair, didn’t even blink at the two of them. “What’ll it be?”
Nick licked his lips, glancing at the flavors, then pointed. “Cookie dough. In a cup.”
Logan ordered a double fudge for himself and then paid with no fuss. He tucked Nick under one arm and steered him to the one empty table in the shade.
He watched Nick eat, watched the way his pink tongue darted out, catching bits of ice cream. The guy was hungry, just not for normal food. Logan grinned, letting him have the first quiet meal he’d probably had in ages.
They sat, bodies pressed together, but it didn’t matter. Logan didn’t care who saw, who judged. Nick shivered once, but Logan dug his thumb into the back of Nick’s neck, grounding him.
“You’re staring,” Nick muttered.
“Can’t help it,” Logan said. “You eat like you were starved your whole life.”
Nick held his gaze, chewing slowly. “Maybe I was.”
Logan swallowed hard, heat rising up his neck. If he ever met the people who’d made Nick feel like less, he’d tear their faces off.
“You want to walk?” Logan asked when Nick finished.
Nick hesitated then nodded. “Yeah. But only with you.”
Logan almost groaned. This mate thing, it got under his skin in a way nothing else had. He wanted to carry Nick everywhere, show him off, let the world see how precious he was.
They made it maybe ten steps before Logan heard the voice.
“Well, isn’t this cozy?”
Logan stiffened, his body blocking Nick from the threat before his brain finished piecing it together. Mack. That slick, oily grin—a hundred percent pain in the ass.
Mack leaned against a lamppost, his arms folded, his gaze glued to Nick like he already knew where every weakness could be found.
Nick tensed, and Logan felt it roll through him, all fight-or-flight.
He drew himself up, every inch of muscle, menace simmering just below the surface. “You stalking us now? Can’t get enough of what you see?”
Mack smiled. The effect was more snake than wolf. “Just admiring my cousin’s taste. Wasn’t expecting you to go for someone so…fragile.”
Logan wanted to break Mack in half. He curled his arm tighter around Nick. “Takes a hell of a man to survive what Nick’s been through. You don’t even compare.”
Mack’s gaze slid back and forth, appraising, like he was picking out a side of beef. Logan growled, low. His wolf wanted to lunge.
Nick didn’t speak, but Logan could feel the tremor running through him. Like he was bracing for a fist instead of just words.
Mack flicked his fingers, looking bored. “Didn’t mean to crash the honeymoon, cousin. But if you want my advice, keep a closer eye on your mate. Would be a shame if someone snatched him up.”
Logan stepped forward, crowding Mack back. “You so much as look at Nick again, we finish this conversation in a ditch.”
Mack’s eyes went cold, but he didn’t flinch. “Family’s family,” he said, smirking. “You know where to find me.”
Then he just turned and walked away, daring Logan to follow.
Nick sagged. Logan cradled him close, fury vibrating through his grip. He glared after Mack, memorizing the exact shade of his jacket, the way he slouched, all threat and violence waiting for an opening.
Bastard thought he could roll up and threaten Logan’s mate? Over his dead body.
“Come on,” Logan said softly for Nick’s ears only. “You did good. Kept your cool. I’m proud of you.”
Nick managed a smile, but he clung to Logan’s arm, a clammy desperation to the grip.
They got back to the table long enough to grab the half-eaten ice cream cups then beelined for the parking lot.
He helped Nick into the truck and slammed the door hard enough to rattle the frame. Then he slid behind the wheel, his hands trembling on the gearshift.
Nick stared out the window, his eyes huge. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to draw attention.”
Logan barked a laugh, short and mean. “Nothing to do with you, sweetheart. Trouble’s always been drawn to this bloodline. Let me handle it.”
He eased the truck out of the parking lot, keeping Nick close, one hand gripping the guy’s thigh. With each block they put between themselves and Mack, Logan felt the knot inside him loosen. But his wolf wanted all-out war.
The drive home wound up the mountain switchbacks. Not many cars, just trees and curves and the occasional deer darting out of the brush.
Logan kept eyes locked on the mirror, checking every car behind them. Old habits. You didn’t survive being part of this pack without learning to look over your shoulder.
“Almost home,” Logan said, not liking the silence.
Nick grunted. He glanced over, his face drawn. “You think Mack’s gonna make trouble?”
Logan didn’t sugarcoat it. “He’s never been able to leave shit alone. I’ve warned him. But next time, I finish it.” He reached over, his thumb brushing the inside of Nick’s wrist. “You’re safe. I’ll keep you that way if it kills me.”
Nick nodded, but Logan could tell the encounter had rattled him. He flexed his grip, needing the contact as much as Nick did.
They rounded a hairpin curve, gravel popping under the tires. That was when it happened.
A truck behind them, black and fast, coming up hot. Logan tensed, instantly alert. Bastard wasn’t even trying to hide.
Nick sucked in a breath. “He’s tailgating.”
Logan smiled, no humor in it. “He wants a show. We’ll give him one.”
The black truck swung wide, trying to pass on a double yellow. Logan floored the gas, the engine roaring as he took the curve.
Mack tried to run him off the road, slamming the front bumper into the rear quarter panel. The whole truck jerked, the tires sliding toward the guardrail.
Nick screamed, his hands grabbing the dash.
Logan held steady, muscles flexed, refusing to let Mack shove him off the edge. “Hold on, baby.”
Another slam from behind. Logan worked the wheel, leaning into the curve, using weight and speed to stay ahead.
He grabbed his phone with one hand, never letting up on the gas. He pressed Sloane’s speed dial, speaker on.
“Yo,” Sloane answered, cool as ever.
“Mack’s trying to run us off Kingsridge.”
For once, Sloane dropped the sarcasm. “On your tail. Keep him on the road.”
Logan laughed. “Oh, I plan on it.”
Mack gunned the engine, drawing up alongside. For a second, they were bumper to bumper, nothing but steel between them and a two-hundred-foot drop.
It was an empty threat. Logan knew how Mack drove. Predictable.
He waited, letting Mack overtake them, and then he swung hard, clipping the back quarter panel. Mack’s truck fishtailed. Logan used the opening to speed ahead.
Up on the next ridge, three SUVs blocked the lane. Pack wolves, all of them. Logan’s own people. Mack must have seen it, too, because instead of playing chicken, he spun his truck onto a side road, showering the pavement with dust.
Logan kept the pace high, putting distance between Nick and danger.
His mate sat frozen, white-knuckled, breathing hard.
Logan slowed just enough to pull over in front of the pack house.
Sloane rolled up behind them, followed by five more wolves in battered pickups and a minivan that definitely had not left the factory with run-flat tires.
Logan cut the engine and climbed out, anger buzzing under his skin.
Sloane met him in two strides. “He gone?”
“For now.” Logan jerked a thumb at Nick, who still sat frozen in the truck. “You mind helping me get him inside? He’s a little shook.”
Sloane’s gaze softened. “Yeah, I got you.”
Logan opened the passenger door. “Come on, sweetheart. Time to get out.”
Nick blinked, dazed. “I thought we were dead.”
Logan helped him out, his arms steady and warm. “Takes more than Mack to finish us.”
Nick mumbled something but sagged into Logan’s grip, letting himself be steered up the walk.