Chapter 5
I’d thought about Logan a lot over the past year. I knew he was a powerful spellcaster, and a snarling asshole who on occasion
showed a soft and caring side.
But I’d never expected him to know how to cook.
I’d learned to cook from my mom, who could turn five ingredients into a masterpiece, provided she had her basket of herbs
and spices. Logan didn’t have a mom, and his family was clearly wealthy with the means to employ a chef, so when he bustled
around setting pasta to boil, cooking chicken, and adding sauce and pesto to bring the dish to life, I was frankly a touch
baffled.
And turned on.
He’d made the pesto from a fresh batch of basil, pine nuts, olive oil, and garlic, for fuck’s sake.
“Is there anything you’re not good at? Other than humility?”
He chuckled, seemingly taking no offense. “Confidence comes from knowing you’re the best. I won’t hide that part of myself.
When everyone knows your strengths, they mind their manners.”
He didn’t even need to flex his power to command respect; it came from the aura he presented to the world. Others instinctively
recognized the apex predator in their midst.
“So, your favorite shows are K-dramas and anime,” he said as he stirred the cream base of his sauce, thickening it with cornstarch.
“Your favorite food is salmon sushi, which I already knew because you eat half the tray at Weatherstone each meal. And you’re an absolute coffee addict.
Even if you do fill it with cream and sugar. ”
“Addict is a little harsh,” I said, groaning as he dropped a basket of fresh bread rolls and churned butter before me. My stomach
rumbled as I buttered a piece and bit into the bread, which was crispy on the outside and soft in the middle. “Rich people
have better bread,” I noted around another huffy groan.
Logan watched me intently, his hand stilling on the spoon in the sauce. “I went to the local markets today before I tracked
you down. I wanted to make sure you had the best.”
That level of care and consideration was enough to have strong waves of want and need erupting within me. I’d always craved
the same soul-deep love my parents had, and on occasion Logan gave me a glimpse of what life with him could be like.
A life I desperately wanted.
“What’s your favorite food?” I asked, attempting to bring myself back to reality.
Logan fucking Kingston was not the soulmate I could bring home to my family. He might have used the word mate, but it had to be some sort of game. Playing with my emotions before he went in for the kill.
“Pizza. Any sort of pizza, provided the base is crispy and wood-fired.”
Rich-person pizza as well. “And your favorite movies? Let me guess . . . action?”
“Yep. I don’t mind anime as well. If there’s a lot of fight scenes.” He added the cooked chicken to his sauce, along with fresh spinach and sundried tomatoes. “What’s your favorite music?” He was the one asking questions now. “Do you listen to any particular genre?”
I pulled off another piece of bread and scooped butter onto it. “I enjoy country and pop. Dance if I’m out in the clubs. Eighties
if it’s Roller Derby. You?”
He’d had multiple guitars in his dorm at Weatherstone, so I had to assume he was a music lover too.
Logan took a second to answer, draining the pasta first, before he returned to the stove, mixing it all together. “Rock and
heavy metal. I’ve been in a band with Noah and Tobias for a few years. It started as a way for us to have a break from life
and responsibilities, and somehow we’ve picked up quite the underground following.”
I blinked at him, trying to wrap my mind around this piece of information. “You have an actual band?” I was suddenly desperate
to see this rock star side of him. “That’s amazing. I’d love to see you perform one day.”
“I think I can arrange that,” he said as he gave me a soft smile, and I was hit with a sudden urge to jump over the island
between us.
Before I could follow through on that intrusive but not altogether unpleasant thought, Logan placed a bowl of pasta in front
of me. A second dish landed on the spot to my right, and then he poured us both a glass of red wine from a bottle he’d had
breathing for about ten minutes.
I took a sip of the tart but delicious merlot, watching as he quickly and competently slid a bowl of parmesan cheese between
us, along with napkins and cutlery. “Usually, I’d set us up in the dining area,” he said as he finally sat down beside me,
close enough that I could feel his magic and heat along my skin. “But I’ve always enjoyed eating in here. It’s just . . .
warmer.”
“I love this kitchen,” I said, my guard falling in the face of Logan’s openness. “It’s right out of my dream house.”
He brushed his thumb across my cheek. “It’s your house too, so it’s good that you love it.” His words were casual, but the
meaning behind them . . . This was connected to his mate bond comments, and I needed those answers. Now.
“What the heck are you talking about?”
My fork was in my hand, but I hadn’t had a chance to taste the dish yet as I stared at him. Logan twisted his fork in the
pasta and lifted a bite to my lips. “Eat, Precious,” he said, meeting my gaze. “You’ve lost weight since All Hallows’. Now,
I personally don’t care what you weigh. You’re perfect no matter what. But I do care if you’re not taking care of your health.”
Without thought, I opened my mouth and accepted the bite. A wash of cream, pesto, garlic, and spice coated my tongue and I
moaned softly. “Holy goddess. This is incredible, Logan.”
He smiled, looking genuinely happy. He nudged my bowl toward me, and I decided a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt to wait for
answers.
We ate in companionable silence, and it wasn’t until my bowl was almost finished and I was taking a sip of wine that Logan
spoke: “Why is your power muted?”
I jerked, spilling a few drops of red across the counter. “You can tell it’s muted?”
He shot me a look that said, I’m a spellcaster, of course I can.
“Mom gave me a potion to suppress my power. She’s growing these ancient herbs, and she had these letters from my gran, who
was like me, and there was a spell in there. It’s been working.”
Logan’s expression didn’t give a lot away, but I felt his energy grow stronger. “What else did she tell you? Have you made any ground in trying to figure out your power and how to control it?”
A derisive laugh escaped. “Control it? Not a chance. The advice was to hide my power for the rest of my life.”
Now he was definitely pissed off. “That’ll never work long term. You’re too powerful, Pais. You cannot let this magic control
you. You must do the controlling.”
Easy for him to say. His affinity wasn’t outlawed and punishable by death.
“She gave me a book with information.” I had no idea why I was spilling all of my secrets to Logan when he told me nothing,
but it appeared I couldn’t help myself. “I’m not sure I’ll ever control my power. It said that this reaper energy should be
used with others in our affinity. That’s why it was so hard for me to unlock my magic at school. It also indicated that the
energy I’d felt freshman year, when I thought I was being followed, was my own power reaching through the planes of existence.
I can touch almost all of them.”
Logan was watching me closely, but he wasn’t saying anything, which left me feeling out of sorts. “Did you know it was me
all along?”
“No,” he said, without hesitation. “Definitely not at first. I knew when I touched your energy that you were unlike other
witches, but I assumed it was because of me.”
“Because of you . . . ?”
His laughter was low as he took in my incredulous expression. “Because we’re bonded, Precious. And have been since we were
very young. It made me a stronger spellcaster, and I figured it had a similar effect on you, only you didn’t have my father
to train you up in our magic.”
“How are we bonded?” I asked, tension pounding in my temples. This was the answer I’d needed all along—what happened in our past to connect us in the present? The reason he’d called me mate.
Logan somehow noticed the ache in my head, and when he brushed his hand across my face, his soothing magic took away the pain.
“You’re tired,” he murmured. “We can talk in the morning after you sleep.”
I wanted to protest. I’d followed him here for answers, and we were right on the cusp of real information sharing. But he
wasn’t wrong about my exhaustion. I’d slept badly for weeks now, and with my belly full of delicious food, I was two seconds
from a sleep coma.
Logan had managed to get me to eat my first full meal in weeks; maybe he’d pull off the miracle of getting me to sleep as
well. When we stood, I stumbled until I found my footing.
“I’ve got you,” Logan murmured, sliding one hand across my back and the other under my thighs, lifting me into his chest.
“We’ll talk in the morning. I promise.”
I tried to protest, but Logan smelled good, and my feet hurt, and I decided to fight this battle when I wasn’t so wrecked.
He carried me up the stairs without any use of magic to aid him. He was stupidly strong. All those days of bench-pressing
small cars in the gym had paid off.
When we reached the second landing, he strolled down a long hall, stopping only when he reached a set of double doors. They
opened for him, and the room was dark enough that I could only just make out the huge bed in the center. There were floor-to-ceiling
windows letting in the moonlight, but it wasn’t a bright night.
“Shower first?” he asked, lowering his face and breathing me in.
I nodded, struggling for words in the intimate setting of his dark room.
When we entered the bathroom, it was lit only by two low sconces on either side of the mirror. Enough illumination to see the shower and freestanding bathtub, but not so much that it hurt my head.
“Will you be okay on your own?”
My heart flipped at this caring side of Logan; he was completely tearing me apart, the seams of my existence dissolving, until
I was nothing more than a mess of emotion.
“Yes,” I whispered, swallowing against the tightness in my throat.