Victoria had more than enough warning to pull herself together. She rubbed her hands over her eyes, wiping away evidence of the tears that had threatened to overwhelm her. Weakness wasn't an option. Not for an Alpha. Not for her. So she mastered her emotions, shoving them down deep, and reached for the vast wellspring of wild magic below her feet. She connected with it easily, just as Arik had taught her, although she possessed only a fraction of her deceased mate's skill. Near as she could tell, the source was without limit; the only restriction to what could be accomplished was truly a matter of talent.
Police lights flashed, red and blue strobes, just for a couple seconds but more than enough for Victoria to identify their visitor. The few times he'd been out to the house to visit, Mike Trash made a habit of announcing his presence. In his words—"Startled wolves are worse than startled cats. And a hundred times more dangerous."
The vehicle rolled to a stop, the passenger door opened, and one person climbed out. Even from a distance, Logan's lanky form was easy to identify. He and his uncle exchanged a few words in farewell.
Once the patrol car turned around and departed, Logan marched down the hill toward Victoria. His stance screamed readiness from the square set of his shoulders to his solid gait. Logan, who typically personified laziness, had a spine straighter than a ruler. His posture communicated superior status—a message aimed square at her.
As he drew nearer, Victoria braced in anticipation of the confrontation to come. In her heart, she actually didn't want to fight with him. As much as she dreaded it, she refused to shy away from it and she wouldn't back down. As Alpha, she had to defend her territory against challengers or lose it, especially since she hadn't won it fair and square in the first place. Following Arik's death, Logan had left almost immediately. But as the Alpha's son, he had a valid claim to the territory. Worse, he also owned the lake house. She and her pack lived there at his discretion.
"How did your visit to the murder scene go? Did you find anything?" Victoria asked once Logan came within speaking distance. She hoped talking would diffuse some of his tension.
"The scene was overrun. I caught over a dozen distinct scents."
"What about Sawyer?" She hated the necessity, but she had to ask.
"Nah." Logan swiped his hands together as though angry with the admission. "Near as I could tell, the other two hadn't been there either."
"Good."
"That doesn't clear them."
"No, but it doesn't condemn them either."
Once he reached the dock, Logan sped his pace, racing toward her way too fast for comfort. His footfalls thudded against the wooden planks. From the weight of each step, she expected him to stomp right through one of the boards. His aura was more wolf than man, and within seconds he could complete a full transformation—many times faster than it took her.
Fear fed her unease. She fought it, tried to hide it, and failed. She'd clung to the belief that he wouldn't hurt her no matter how they fought but the last twelve hours had eroded her faith in that conviction. In an involuntary reflex, the skin on her arms rippled in precursor to a shift. Her she-wolf, bursting with maternal instinct, was already riled. His blatant masculinity only made it worse.
"Stop. That's close enough." A growl of warning tremored in her throat. He possessed every physical advantage: size, strength, and speed. In a challenge, her survival depended on her getting to Vanadium before he could reach her.
Logan pulled up short. His gaze dropped to her hands which were covered in the snow-white fur of her wolf, and his eyes narrowed. His scent grew muskier, marking heightened aggression. The atmosphere was explosive.
He looked up—his stare penetrating and his tone sarcastic. "Seriously, you're challenging me? Did I miss something? Is the witch back?"
"I'm not the aggressor here. You are." For fuck's sake, she was the one who was cornered. She had the lake at her back and sides—nowhere to go unless she wanted to risk the dark waters closing over her head and pulling her under forever.
"Me?" His voice spiked on an incredulous note. "I've got news for you, sister. You're nuts. I'm just standing here. You're the one making like Lon Chaney Jr."
"We both know how fast that can change."
"Right. Because I'm just a rabid dog that needs to be put down." He smiled but it was a parody of niceness. Enough testosterone to bust balls ripened the air.
"Damn it, that's not what I've said. I told you to stop. To give me some space. All you've done since coming back is push and push. You didn't even call before you came home."
"It's my house. I wasn't aware I had to call ahead." He bared his teeth, flashing incisors, and his false smile lost all resemblance to a friendly expression.
"It's your house." She ground her teeth over the difficult concession, and strove to remain impassive while anger percolated in her gut. Logan's name was on the deed, but as a wolf, Victoria regarded the territory as hers—and therein was the great conflict.
"It's my house. My land. My territory." His bold gaze never wavered from her face. "Everything that belonged to my father is mine."
Shock crashed over her. For a second, she assumed he meant her too but she dismissed the possibility out of hand. That way nothing but the folly of ego. No, he meant the property and the territory. And honestly, she’d expected Logan to give her a hard time, but his complete reversal caught her unprepared. He'd invited her and the pack to remain in the house. He'd chosen to leave.
Victoria stood to lose so much more now than she would have then. A new baby required stability. And it wasn't just her. Sylvie considered the lakeside house home now. Morena had enrolled in the local high school and started to make new friends. Sophia and her pups roamed the forests along the lakeshore. So why would Logan assert his inheritance rights just as she'd started to feel comfortable?
It baffled her but worse, her heart ached. Home…she’d only just started calling it that and now she might lose it all.
"Are you telling us to get out? Out of your house? Or out of your territory?" She swallowed a snarl. Instinct dictated she fight him. Throttling him possessed innate appeal; a simple solution to her problem.
"What if I am? What will you do? Run? Take the pack on the road again? What if I want to be Alpha and keep the pack? What then?" His expression was inscrutable. For the life of her, she didn't know what he was thinking.
Losing her pack...her worst fear.
"I'll fight—to the death if I have to." For her pack. For her territory. And yes, for her title. Rooted in place, Victoria acknowledged his birthright even as she came into the bitter acknowledgement that she would not accede to him. The land was bonded to her, and she to it.
"You'll fight me? Considering I'm your ordained champion, this could get damn convoluted." Logan's nostrils flared and his mouth compressed. Amusement and disgust crossed his mobile features.
"I'll fight you if I have to. I refuse to lose everything again." Victoria stood rigid, stubbornly proud, scared to death, and thoroughly confused. How could he make jokes at a time like this? How dare he!
"Damn it, Vic. You love your precious pack more than anything. I know that. Do you really believe I'd do that to you?" Logan backed off, withdrawing from the fight. His shields dropped and a thick, miserable fog engulfed his aura. "I thought we were past the point where you automatically assumed the worst of me."
"I don't." A reflexive denial escaped her lips, but it had the ring of falsehood. Belatedly, Victoria realized she'd been played. Logan had said just enough to evoke her deepest fears. He'd stood by while she’d jumped to the worst conclusions possible. Shame filled her because that too was an unjust attempt to divert blame entirely onto him. She had to own her own chunk of it.
"I think you do. I spent two years enslaved to my Alpha, and every day I wanted to die. In the end, it killed me. No one believed in me except you. You saved me. I owe you everything. So how can you think I'd do that to you?" His head hung and his grimace lingered.
Damn it all to hel
l! Maybe she'd misread the situation. Obviously, she'd hurt his feelings but how had this wound up being all her fault? She rallied against the awful unfairness of the accusation. "Hold up. That's so damn unfair I don't even know where to begin. Logan, you're the one who burst into the house without so much as a word of warning—"
"I texted."
She stared at him blankly.
"This morning. I texted I'd be home in about an hour."
"Oh." She pressed her palm heel to her forehead and dragged it down her face. Her eyes lit in sheer determination. "Which reminds me—you owe me a new phone."
"Do not." He frowned. "How do you figure?"
"My screen got smashed when I dropped it by the pool."
"How the hell is that my fault exactly?"
"You started the fight."
"Did not. The long-haired psycho shot first."
"Sawyer said you shifted." Talking fast, Victoria cut off Logan's next interruption. "Besides, who acted first is beside the point."
"What's the point?" He arched his brow.
"The point is you burst in, started a fight, got everyone amped up, and then called me a slut and a liar." The reminder riled her up. She surged toward him, all fear forgotten, and punched Logan's side to add emphasis to her displeasure. "Asshole."
"Oh. Yeah." He bowed his head and his shoulders shook. For an awful second, she feared he was crying, but then he threw his arms wide, braying laughter like a jackass. His huge hand slapped his knee. "That's what I meant to apologize for—oomph."
"That's for implying Arik isn't the father."
"Yeah, okay. I'm sorry and I apologize. I'm an asshole—" Logan positioned his arms to protect his ribcage against future assault.
"You don't say." She pantomimed shock, hand to her throat.
Tension etched lines in his handsome face. "When I'm caught off guard, my knee-jerk reaction is to say something asinine. Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant? Do you have any idea what it felt like to find out like that?"
Victoria opened her mouth to offer a neat reply but found herself at a complete loss for words. Logan deserved more than a cavalier answer, but the truth hurt. Sighing, she gazed out over the lake because it was easier than meeting his eyes.
"I didn't want to drag you down with me."
"Ah, okay..." Logan scowled, his bewilderment plain on his face. "No, not okay. I don't get that at all. You're having my sister. I have a responsibility to help. It's my duty to protect you."
"Responsibility. Duty." Victoria shook her head in adamant denial. "That's precisely why I didn't tell you. You'd have felt obligated to stay. After Arik's death, you couldn't get out of here fast enough. I wanted you to be free."
And happy...
"So you were protecting me, huh?" He looked askance at her.
"Yeah, I guess." It sounded pretty stupid—and selfish—when she looked at it from his perspective.
"Aren't we a fine pair? I suppose it's my fault you turned to Ken-doll for protection." With a sardonic chuckle, Logan ran a hand through his hair.
"Don't call Sawyer that." Victoria choked on a wet giggle.
"You've thought it yourself or you wouldn't be laughing." Logan crossed his arms. His brow arched in question. "So, is it? My fault?"
She inhaled sharply. "No. You don't get credit for that too. My involvement with the hunters goes back to before we met. And, I'll have you know, I managed to work out all my troubles without your help."
He watched her from the corner of his eye. "So, you're saying you don't need me? Maybe I could stick around for a while, anyway? I've been having trouble with the magic you showed me. For one, I can't get the damn rainbow bridge to open. I could use a few pointers."
"Ha! Now your true motives are coming out."
Logan eyed her but refused to take the bait. "Are you going to give me a hard time if I want to stay?"
"That depends." Her lips twitched, but she suppressed the smile, playing the hard line. "Are you going to evict us?"
"Nope." He ducked his head. "The pack is welcome to stay in this house, and on this land, for the rest of their lives. But I want to be part of it. I want a place where I belong."
Happiness percolated in her heart, bubbling upward. Victoria sank her teeth into her lower lip to keep from smiling and schooled her expression to sternness. "Are you planning on challenging me for Alpha?"
"Oh, hell no." He huffed, expelling a puff of citrusy breath. When he shifted, his arm jostled hers. "I don't want that sort of headache."
Victoria inhaled through her mouth, drinking in his odor, which she fully expected to change on the utterance of a falsehood. She suspected him of dissembling for her sake, except she failed to detect so much as a hint of deception. Come to think of it, she'd never caught Logan in even a white lie. Logan continued in a husky voice. "That doesn't mean I'm going to submit to your control. I can't live like that again."
"Will you at least try to work with me?" Victoria pursed her lips and kept her tone strict. She put on a damn convincing display of primness, if she did say so herself.
"Translation: you want me to do what I'm told when I'm told to do it."
"No." She paused and grinned. "Yes."
Logan rolled impertinence in his mouth. His smile split his face. "Depends. Will you be wearing black leather and high heels?"
"No."
"You hesitated."
"No, I didn't."
"Did so."
Sighing, Victoria rolled her eyes. The devil on her shoulder urged her to be naughty. "I dunno, Logan. I don’t think this is gonna work.”
He lost his smirk to a worried frown. "What?”
Victoria set her face as sternly as she could, not an easy task since she was dying to laugh. “You have to go.”
“Why?” Logan blurted out, a streak of panic coloring his voice. “I thought you trusted me—"
"It's not that." She cut the air with her hand.
"Aww, c'mon. Don't get rid of me, Vic. I'm a keeper. I'm housebroken and everything." Logan looked fit to be tied, and as though he might jump out of his skin on a second's notice. Few and far between were the instances when the smartass didn't know what to say.
She savored his vexation and remained silent.
Logan gave her an up-down appraisal. "You have that 'I'd rather stick needles in my eyes' look on your face. If memory serves, you're about to call me an idiot and then punch me."
It hurt not to laugh but she managed. Taking a deep breath, she wrung her hands and rushed her confession before he mouthed off again. "I'm not going to be able to resist trying to squish you. Every time you mouth off, I'm compelled to try. I can't help myself..."
"So... I'm just too damn squishable."
"Yeah, that's right."
"You lay awake all night, just thinkin' about me. Don'tcha?" Logan rolled over and just about died laughing.
"Not even in passing." Victoria wheezed, ruined the effect, and lost her cool. She succumbed to the same fit that held him in its grip. Clutching her sides, she fought it but tears leaked past her squeezed lids, and damn—it felt good.
"Next time you have a go at squishing me, can we grease up first?" Logan wagged his eyebrows and puckered up.
Without warning, the baby moved and nailed Victoria in the kidney. She sobered up fast, still holding her side but for different reasons. "Oh. Oh, that hurts."
"Is the baby kicking?" Logan sat straight and wide-eyed. He reached for her abdomen. "Can I feel?"
Surprised by his enthusiasm, she withdrew but then stopped. In fairness, Logan had a vested interest in her child. Bracing, Victoria took his wrist and guided his open hand to the spot on her stomach where the baby was kicking. She remained still and silent so he could experience the determined flutter.
"That's so fucking cool." A big grin spread on his face. His hands were huge and hot on her abdomen, and more than mild adoration shone in his eyes.
When he looked at her like that, she got scared that his feelings for her exc
eeded horny affection. Her heart ached, a wound to her soul. She didn't love him—never would. Not for lack of desire, but because she was damaged goods.
His embrace was good and safe and right—and oh so wrong. Logan was an unstable foundation; she dared not build her house here. With bittersweet regret, she stepped away. He made no attempt to restrain her.
Logan watched her retreat and his smile waned to a cynical smirk. He licked his lips and asked, "What're you doing down here anyway?"
"Oh, just thinking." She hedged on purpose. She had to tell him about the planned werewolf gathering and the treaty negotiation with the hunters. First, though, she needed a couple minutes to compose her thoughts and figure out what to say.
"I'll bet you were thinking about my father, huh?" Logan seized his tangent with both hands and ran with it. "Wondering if Dad pulled a Disney Villain Death?"
"Uh." She tilted back her head and gazed at him, thoroughly perplexed. She had no words. She swore she wasn't stupid, simply weary. Heavy thoughts weighted her mind, leaving her unprepared to navigate Logan's obstacle course of mixed pop cultural references. And what he'd just suggested about Arik's demise stopped her cold. Icy fear swirled in her gut.
They'd never recovered his body from the lake's arctic depths.
"I do it too," Logan continued, lapsing into what sounded suspiciously like a confession. "Sit and stare at the water, expecting to see his head break the surface. For him to come walking—"
"Knock it off, jackass." She jabbed his ribs, blustering to hide her disquiet. He had her so freaked out, her skin was crawling.
Logan caught her wrist in a steely grip and held on.
"We both loved Arik. Losing him hurt—" Her voice broke.
He stiffened and lifted his head. His tone was severe. "Last time we talked, you denied loving him."
She flinched. She found confessions difficult, but Logan deserved the truth. "I was lying to protect myself. So many people I loved had already died... When my pack arrived in Sierra Pines last February, we were on our last leg. Arik was a godsend. He was everything we needed. He saved us."
Wolf's Cross: Book 4 (Loki's Wolves) Page 21