Chapter 33 Logan
LOGAN
The scent hits me like a physical blow halfway up the stairs.
Vanilla bourbon, but wrong. Deeper. Richer. So thick and sweet it coats the back of my throat and makes me restless under my skin. My hands shake as I grip the banister, and behind me, I hear Griff curse under his breath.
"Fuck. Logan, that's..." Griff's voice cuts through the chaos downstairs, tight with recognition and something darker.
"Strong heat," I finish grimly, taking the steps three at a time. The sound of my boots echoes off the wooden staircase, nearly drowned out by the commotion from the reception below.
My chest tightens with something that feels like panic mixed with pure alpha instinct. Savannah's never gone into heat around us before. And now she's trapped in a building with two hundred people, thirty of them unmated alphas who are going to catch this scent and lose their fucking minds.
The thought of anyone else smelling her like this, wanting her like this, makes something violent twist in my gut.
"Where is she?" Griff demands, his voice rough with the same protective fury that's making my vision narrow at the edges.
"Oak Suite. End of the hall." I can barely get the words out through clenched teeth.
We reach the second floor and the scent is everywhere now, seeping under doors, clinging to the walls, saturating the air until it's all I can breathe. My cock hardens involuntarily, and I have to clench my fists to keep from sprinting down the hallway. Behind me, Griff's breathing has gone ragged.
"Jesus Christ," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "How long do we have before every alpha downstairs catches this?"
"Not long." I can already hear movement from some of the other rooms. Confused voices drifting through doors. The sound of footsteps as people try to identify the source of the scent that's making their instincts go haywire.
A crash echoes from somewhere downstairs, followed by shouting. Male voices, aggressive and territorial.
"Shit," Griff says, picking up his pace. "They're already starting to lose it."
I don't knock on the Oak Suite door. I push it open and step inside, and the full force of her heat-scent slams into me like a freight train loaded with pure need.
The room is dim, curtains drawn against the storm outside.
Savannah is sitting on the edge of the four-poster bed, doubled over with her arms wrapped around her middle.
Her hair is damp with sweat, dark strands sticking to her flushed cheeks.
She's wearing one of my old flannels over leggings, and I can see the fabric clinging to her overheated skin.
When she looks up at me, her eyes are wild. Desperate. Pupils blown so wide there's barely any hazel left, just black need staring back at me.
"Logan," she breathes, and the relief in her voice nearly breaks something in my chest. "I don't know what's happening to me. I feel like I'm burning alive."
"You're in heat, sweetheart." I cross to her in two strides, my boots silent on the thick carpet.
I kneel beside the bed so we're at eye level, close enough to see the fine tremor running through her body.
Up close, I can see she's shaking. Her scent is so thick here it's hard to think straight. "When did it start?"
"Twenty minutes ago? Maybe thirty?" Her hands are fisted in the flannel, knuckles white with tension.
"It came out of nowhere. One minute I was checking on the cake display, the next minute I felt like my skin was too tight and I couldn't breathe and.
.." She breaks off with a whimper, pressing her face against her knees.
Griff appears at my shoulder, his face grim as he takes in her condition. "We need to move her. Now. Before..."
Another loud crash echoes from somewhere downstairs, followed by more shouting. Male voices, aggressive and territorial, the sound of chairs scraping and what might be a table getting overturned.
"Too late," I mutter, my jaw clenching tight enough to hurt. "They're already catching the scent."
Savannah's head snaps up, fear cutting through the heat-haze in her eyes. "What does that mean? Logan, what's happening down there?"
"It means every unmated alpha downstairs is about to lose their shit," Griff says bluntly, already moving to the windows to yank the heavy curtains closed. "Heat scent affects all of us. Makes us territorial. Aggressive."
"Possessive," I add, watching her face pale despite the flush of heat. "They're going to want to find the source. Find you."
The sound of breaking glass drifts up from below, followed by what sounds like someone slamming a door hard enough to rattle the walls.
Savannah makes a small, scared sound that goes straight to my protective instincts. "I need to leave. I need to get out of here before they..." She tries to stand, swaying dangerously.
"You're not going anywhere," I tell her firmly, catching her hands when she starts to stumble. Her skin is burning hot, and the contact makes her gasp and arch toward me involuntarily. "The storm's still raging. Roads are impassable. We're all trapped here until it clears."
"Then what do we do?" Her voice cracks on the question, high and desperate. "Logan, I can't control this. I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my skin. And if those alphas come looking for me..."
"They won't find you," Griff interrupts, his voice hard with promise. He's already grabbing blankets from the armoire, thick wool ones that might help mask her scent. "Because we're getting you somewhere safe. Somewhere they can't smell you."
"But I wasn't supposed to go into heat," Savannah says, her voice small and confused.
"When I stopped taking the suppressants, Dr. Martinez said it would be a week, and it would happen after the wedding.
Not before. I thought I was safe. The only thing on my mind has been Emma's wedding.
.." She looks between us with wide, desperate eyes.
"Why does the universe insist on punishing me?
Why now, during the most important wedding I've ever planned? "
I'm already thinking, mapping out the building in my head while trying to process what she just said. She's been off suppressants for weeks and didn't go into heat when expected. That explains why this one hit so suddenly, so intensely. Her body was building up to this.
"Basement," I decide. "There's a maintenance room behind the boiler. Concrete walls, separate ventilation system. It's isolated enough that the scent won't carry to the main building."
"What about supplies?" Griff asks, his practical mind already working through logistics. "Food, water, blankets? If we're talking about riding out a full heat cycle..."
"Three to five days," Savannah whispers, and I can hear the fear threading through her voice. "That's how long it usually lasts."
Let’s hope that it only takes three days to hide her while two hundred people are trapped in the same building.
"We'll figure out supplies," I decide, standing and pulling her gently to her feet. "Right now we just need to get you somewhere safe."
"Don't worry, sweetheart," Griff says, wrapping one of the thick blankets around her shoulders. His voice is gentle, reassuring. "We're going to take care of you. Whatever you need."
"I need..." Savannah starts, then stops, her cheeks flushing even redder. "God, I can't believe I'm about to say this."
"What do you need?" I ask softly, even though I'm pretty sure I already know the answer. Even though the thought of it makes my hands shake.
"You," she breathes, looking between Griff and me with desperate honesty. "Both of you. And Xavier when we find him. I want... I need you to claim me. All of you. I want you to bite me, mark me, make me yours."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing what little breath I had left.
I've imagined her saying something like this a thousand times, but hearing it for real, seeing the desperate need and vulnerability in her eyes, makes my chest tight with emotion so fierce it nearly brings me to my knees.
My alpha is going insane, caught between the need to protect her and the overwhelming desire to give her exactly what she's asking for.
Every instinct I have is screaming at me to wrap her up, hide her away, keep her safe from every threat in the world.
The thought of those alphas downstairs catching even a hint of her scent makes me want to tear the building apart with my bare hands.
I reach out slowly, like she might spook, and cup her face in my hands. Her skin is burning hot, flushed with heat and need, and when my palms make contact she lets out a soft whimper that goes straight to my soul.
"Savannah," I say, my voice rougher than I intended. Her eyes flutter closed as she leans into my touch like she's been starving for it, and something primitive and possessive roars to life in my chest.
She's hurting. She's scared. She's asking us to claim her, and every fiber of my being wants to say yes, wants to mark her and make her ours forever. But she's also vulnerable and in heat, and I need to make sure she's safe before anything else.
"We need to get you out of here first," I tell her, my thumbs stroking across her cheekbones. "Somewhere those alphas can't find you. Somewhere you'll be safe."
Her eyes snap open, wide and desperate. "Logan, please. I can't... it hurts so much and I need..."
"I know what you need," I say quietly, leaning closer until our foreheads almost touch. "And we're going to take care of you. But not here. Not where they can get to you."
Griff moves behind her, and I can see the same protective fury in his eyes that's burning through me. His hands settle carefully on her shoulders through the blanket, steadying her when she sways.
"Those idiots downstairs are already losing their minds," he says, his voice tight with controlled anger. "We need to move her before this gets worse."
I wrap more blankets around Savannah until she's completely covered, then lift her into my arms. She's lighter than I expected, but she's also shaking so hard I can feel it through all the layers.
"Logan," she whispers against my chest, her voice muffled by the blanket. "I've wanted this for so long. I've been trying not to think about it, but now I can't think about anything else."
"We know," I tell her quietly, carrying her toward the door. "We've wanted it too."
Griff moves to the door, pressing his ear against it for a moment before nodding. "Hallway's clear, but I can hear more shouting from downstairs. Whatever's happening down there is getting worse."
We slip out of the room and head for the service elevator, moving as quickly and quietly as possible. Every step feels like a risk, every shadow might hide someone who could catch her scent and follow us.
"I promise we'll take care of you," I murmur into her hair as we wait for the elevator. "All of us. Whatever you need."
"Promise?" she asks, her voice so small and vulnerable it nearly destroys me.
"On my life," I tell her, meaning every syllable. "We're going to make everything okay."
I would never let any alpha get near her.
I would rip them apart, limb from limb. I've never had blood on my hands, but I would do everything for her, even burn down this fucking ski resort in the middle of a snowstorm.
I broke her heart once, and even if I have to spend the rest of my life begging her forgiveness, then I will.
Because she's fucking worth it.