Chapter 6
SIX
Vivian
The first thing I notice when I wake up is warmth. Strong arms wrap around my waist, holding me securely against a solid chest. For a moment, I stay perfectly still, letting the feeling soak in.
Safe.
That’s the word that keeps coming back to me whenever I’m near Logan.
I smile slightly as I turn my head to look up at him. He’s still asleep, so I use this time to study him.
Dark hair falls across his forehead, and the morning light spilling through the window softens the sharp angles of his face. One large hand rests against my hip like it belongs there. Like I belong there.
My heart does a funny little flip in my chest.
If someone had told me a few days ago that I’d wake up wrapped in the arms of a giant bear shifter who claims I’m his fated mate, I would’ve thought they were insane, but somehow, it feels right.
Logan stirs slightly as I move, his eyes opening slowly. The moment he sees me awake, something warm and possessive flickers in those green eyes.
“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.
“Morning.”
He leans in and presses a slow kiss to my lips. It’s soft and unhurried, with something deeper behind it today. Something heavier.
When he pulls back, I notice the tension in his body. A low hum of energy that wasn’t there yesterday.
I shift slightly in his arms, then pause.
Something feels different. Warmth pools low in my stomach, making my breath catch.
“What is that?” I ask quietly.
Logan watches me carefully. “What’s what?”
I press a hand lightly against the gnawing ache in my lower stomach. “That… sensation?”
“What does it feel like?”
“Like… heat. Achy or… something.”
His expression shifts slightly. “That’s the mating heat.”
My pulse jumps. “Oh.”
He brushes his thumb across my cheek. “It’ll get stronger as the day goes on,” he warns me.
Then he kisses me again. This one isn’t as gentle. It has an edge to it now, a hunger, and for some reason… I like it.
A lot.
When we finally get out of bed, Logan doesn’t let me stray more than a few feet away from him. Not that I mind. He follows me into the kitchen like a shadow. Every time I reach for something, he grabs it first.
“Here,” he says, handing me a glass before I can reach for the cabinet.
“You don’t have to do that.” I laugh.
“I know.”
He does it anyway.
During the morning, I notice all the little ways he takes care of me. When I reach for a chair, he pulls it out. When I look toward the fridge, he’s already opening it. When my glass empties, he refills it before I even realize I’m thirsty.
“You’re studying me,” I say eventually.
His eyes flick to mine. “Yes,” he says honestly.
I smile. I love that he’s always so honest with me. I know I can trust him, that he would never lie to me. He’ll always tell me like it is, even if I might not like it.
“Why?”
“So I know what you need.”
My heart melts a little. No one has ever paid attention to me like this before. Ever.
“You don’t have to anticipate everything,” I say softly.
“I want to.”
The simple sincerity in his voice sends warmth through my chest.
We spend the day together. Logan shows me the woods behind his cabin, pointing out the paths he runs when he shifts. He brings me into his workshop and walks me through the pieces he’s working on—tables, chairs, and cabinets. Every piece is beautiful.
“You made all this?” I ask, running my fingers across the smooth surface of a wooden dresser.
“Yeah.”
“It’s amazing.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing, but I catch the small smile tugging at his mouth.
Throughout the day, we steal little touches. His hand brushes my lower back as we walk. My fingers curl around his arm. Soft kisses that start playful but end with both of us breathing harder. And the whole time, that heat inside me continues to build.
By the time evening rolls around, it’s impossible to ignore. Logan notices too. His eyes darken every time they land on me. Which is often.
We make dinner together, or at least we try to, because Logan pulls me into his arms whenever I move too close.
“You’re not helping,” I laugh as he kisses the side of my neck.
“I disagree.”
My pulse jumps as his lips brush my skin. “That feels like the opposite of helping.”
“Depends on what the goal is.”
By the time we sit down to eat, the tension between us is thick. The mating heat pulses through me, warm and insistent. Every brush of his arm against mine sends little sparks through my body.
Logan watches me carefully across the table. “Are you okay?”
I nod, but my voice comes out breathless. “I can’t wait any longer.”
The words hang between us for a beat. Then his chair scrapes across the floor as he stands, and he’s suddenly in front of me. He grabs my waist, pulls me against him, and kisses me.