by Juliet Lyons
I squeeze Logan’s hand tightly in mine. “No, it won’t,” I say quickly.
“Tried that,” Logan murmurs, gazing into my eyes and making my tummy flutter. “It didn’t work.”
Ronin lets out a long, weary sigh. “I’ll leave you to it.” He turns, toying with the gold cuff links on his sleeves and looking at me with a puzzled expression. “I’m sorry about earlier,” he says in his soft rumble of a Scottish accent. “I was startled by how much you look like her.”
The air turns awkward, heat rising up my neck. “That’s okay,” I mumble.
He nods. “If you’re a tenth of the woman she was, Logan here is a lucky man.”
Logan and I stare at each other like awkward teens whose love note just got read out loud in class. I poke my tongue out childishly, and he smiles, the color coming back into his cheeks.
Ronin crosses to the door.
“Wait,” I say. “Before you go—thank you for telling me the truth about what happened to her.”
He smiles, and it’s as though someone lit him up from the inside out. I glimpse how he must have looked to my mother—a dashing hero who rescued her from the clutches of a wicked man. It’s no wonder she fell for him.
“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice cracking with emotion.
He reaches for the door handle, but before opening it, he turns back, shoulders tightly set, and gazes at us. “Do your mother a favor, Silver,” he says, eyes glassy with emotion. “Stay alive.”
Logan and I exchange fretful glances, but when we look back, the door is softly clicking shut and Ronin is gone.
Chapter 22
Silver
After Ronin’s departure, we collapse on the sofa, clinging to each other like apocalypse survivors as I roll the ancient vampire’s words around my mind—There is a beach house in Leigh-on-Sea where we spent a lot of time together. She’s buried in the little churchyard there.
Since Mum left all those years ago, I’ve often felt like there is an invisible boulder strapped to my chest—a huge, immovable rock pinning my emotions to that one point in time. But hearing the truth eases the heaviness somehow. Yes, there is heartache and grief, but I feel free, as if someday soon, I’ll finally be able to love with a whole heart instead of the broken-up fragments of one.
I rub my face against Logan’s rumpled gray T-shirt, now damp with my tears, and inhale his clean, soapy scent, twisting my fingers into the soft, cottony material.
His arms tighten around my back. “What are you feeling?” he whispers.
“Oddly liberated,” I say, my voice muffled.
He lifts the hair from the nape of my neck and rubs my skin, his thumb kneading the tension from my muscles. “Me too.”
I push myself up onto my elbows and stare into his eyes. They look very green, like grass after snow has melted, the golden flecks glittering like sun on water. I open my mouth to say the three words I’ve never been able to say, but he kisses me before I get the chance, guiding my lips to his and claiming my senses with the taste of his mouth on mine. Soft flicks of his tongue send tingles of pleasure shooting through my body.
“Are we still running away together?” he asks when we eventually pull apart.
“Yes. Why? You’re not thinking of ditching me again, are you?”
He rakes his fingers through my hair like a comb. “No way, but we should probably leave soon, as much as I’d rather stay here and canoodle.”
I swing my legs over the side of the sofa. “Ronin did say to leave as soon as we can. I’d like to say good-bye to Ollie first though. He’s at home. I had a text from him saying he’s home from work with a cold.”
Logan sits up, tugging his T-shirt down over his satiny stomach muscles. “Friend-zoned and a cold. The poor lad doesn’t have much luck.”
I chuckle, holding my hands out to pull him off the sofa. “It’s not like that with Ollie. There’s no need to be jealous.”
He grasps one of my hands and stands up, reaching for his holdall. “A man would have to be dead from the feet up not to find you attractive, Silver.”
I quirk a brow. “Like you, you mean?”
He grins, throwing the massive bag over his shoulder as if it weighs no more than a sack of feathers. “You’re never going to quit with the dead jibes, are you?”
“Probably not,” I say, smiling. “Now, let’s get out of here.”
* * *
By the time we reach Ollie’s swanky building in West London, it’s started to rain. I stand on the sidewalk for a few moments, staring up at the glass-fronted apartment, before taking a deep breath and pushing the button to number thirty-seven. To say I was nervous about these two meeting would be an understatement.
“Just make yourself scarce after the initial introduction, okay?” I say, worrying at my bottom lip.
He gives a mini salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
A familiar voice crackles over the intercom. “Yo.”
Only Ollie can get away with saying yo in the twenty-first century.
“It’s Silver.”
There is a click and the door pops open. I glance over at Logan, and we stare at each other wide-eyed.
“I’m nervous,” he admits, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.
“Me too. The last time I told him I was running away, I was ten years old.”
He pushes open the door. “Why were you running away?”
“Dad wouldn’t let me get a belly button ring.”
He chuckles. “I suspect you were a force to be reckoned with even then.”
I nod to the lady at the front desk and lead Logan through the door leading to the elevators. Upstairs, Ollie’s front door is already ajar. I push it open. “Ollie?”
“In the kitchen,” he yells back.
We find him bent over the toaster, trying to pull something charred out of it with a fork. He is barefoot, wearing a rumpled green T-shirt that looks in desperate need of laundering, with a pair of faded tracksuit bottoms. The kitchen reeks of burned toast. “It’s a crumpet,” he says, not turning around. “Why do they make those things so damn thick?”
I look quickly at Logan and back again. “Ollie, this is Logan.”
The fork drops, clattering onto the counter. Ollie spins around, wiping hands on his sweatpants. “Oh. So that’s where you’ve been. You didn’t answer your phone all day.”
They stare at each other for a few seconds, and then Logan sticks out a hand.
My God, this is awkward. I watch in morbid fascination as Ollie takes Logan’s hand in his and gives it a fleeting shake. “Good to meet you,” he says tightly.
“Likewise.”
I make head-jerking motions at Logan to scram.
“I’ll let you two catch up,” he says, finally taking the hint and leaving us alone.
I close the kitchen door after him and spin around to Ollie.
He frowns, staring through the door after him. “His eyes are so green.”
“I know. He’s a vampire. Ollie, look, I need to tell you something. I’m leaving.”
“Leaving? Where to?”
“Abroad. I’ll let you know when we’re settled.”
“You’re going with the vampire?” he asks incredulously.
“He’s not just a vampire, Ollie. Don’t say it like this is some dumb obsession—it’s real. Him and me, we’re real and we have to leave.”
“Why?”
I sigh, lowering myself into a chair at his tiny kitchen table. “You know how Mum disappeared all those years ago and they never had any leads?”
“Yeah, of course. But what does running away have to do with that?”
I tell him as much as I can, as quickly as I can—about the police asking me to inform for them and Stephen Clegg, how Logan had rescued me from the clutches of Gerhard—trying to ignore the horror etched
into his freckled features.
“You need to go to the police, Silver. If you leave with him, you’re putting yourself at risk. This madwoman—Arabella or whoever she is—”
“Anastasia,” I cut in.
“Whatever. If she’s after him, you’re a target too. How long before she finds out who your mother was?”
I clench my fists, anger flaring up inside me. “I’d be in just as much danger here. At least Logan can protect me. I can’t leave him, Ollie. I’m in love with him.”
He snorts, running his hands through his messy red hair. “You think you love him now, but what about in ten years, when you’re desperate for kids and he can’t give them to you? What about in twenty years when you hit menopause and Donnie Darko is still swanning around like a male model? You’ll regret this, Silver—wasting your life on a man who can’t give you what you need.”
I crash a fist onto the kitchen table. “How would you know what I need? It’s not as if I’m the sort of woman who keeps a scrapbook of wedding dresses hidden in her bottom drawer. You said yourself I was never going to fall for someone normal.”
“I said that when I thought this was some short-term fling. You’re talking about giving up your whole life for him. I mean, what about your dad? He’s going to need you when this stuff about your mum comes out.”
“We can still talk on the phone,” I say, glaring at him. “Why are you being an utter prick about this?”
He kicks a table leg, rattling the wood. “I’m not being a prick, Silver. I’m being your friend. The only reason you’re getting so angry is because you know what I’m saying is true. The news about your mother will change you, make you see things differently.”
I’ve heard enough. I stand up, the chair scraping across the tiled floor. “What I’d like to know is who died and made you Dr. frigging Phil?”
A heavy silence falls over us. We haven’t properly argued since we were about thirteen and he wouldn’t let me copy his English homework. Ollie is one of those peacemaker types who will usually do anything to avoid an argument. It’s probably why we’ve stayed friends all these years.
“Well, if that’s all you have to say, I guess I’ll leave,” I say icily.
Ollie stands up, scowling. “Do what you like, Silver. You always do anyway.”
There is a prick of tears behind my eyes as I snatch open the kitchen door. Logan is outside on the balcony, leaning over the edge of the railing, his hair slick and black from the rain. The sliding door is shut, and I pause, wondering if he heard us arguing through the double-glazed glass. Who am I kidding? Of course he did. He’s a vampire.
He turns around and slides open the wide door, stepping into the lounge without meeting my eye. From the look on his face, I know he heard everything. His expression is a mixture of fear and sadness as he stands toying with the gold medallion at his throat—a gesture he seems to make whenever he’s anxious.
“I’m ready to leave,” I say.
He nods, still avoiding my gaze, staring at Ollie instead. “I promise I’ll look after her.”
Ollie shoots him a glance, his face red with anger. “You’d better.”
I don’t meet his eye as I follow Logan out into the hall, holding up a hand in silent farewell.
Outside, it’s still raining, the city as dull as a sepia photograph. Logan looks at the dark horizon, rain smattering onto his hair and clothes. Neither of us has spoken since leaving Ollie’s place. If only I could read minds like Ronin seems to.
“I think it’s dark enough to work,” he mutters, gazing at me with an odd, unreadable expression, eyes blazing like green flames.
It isn’t until he crouches I realize he means flight. I climb onto his back, wrapping my arms tightly around him and burying my face in the soft warmth of his neck. The crack of doubt Ollie opened closes over as I place a kiss just below his earlobe. He smells like rain and cotton sheets.
“I love you,” I murmur as he leaps upward, but the words are too late, lost in the rush of wind as we take flight, and I’m not sure if he heard them at all.
* * *
Back in Chelsea, I haul my massive suitcase out from under the bed and begin opening and closing drawers in haste, trying to figure out what to take and what to leave behind. Logan is lying on my bed, hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling as if all of life’s answers are written there. He has barely said two words since we left Ollie’s.
I grab my passport from my bedside drawer, slamming it shut as loudly as I can, and when he doesn’t flinch, I realize I’ll have to be the one to break the silence.
“You’re angry, aren’t you?” I demand. “You heard everything Ollie said and you think I might not really want this.”
Still no response.
“Logan! For God’s sake, say something!”
He blinks, dark eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks. “I’m not angry,” he says finally. “I’m jealous.”
I screw my face up. “Jealous? I told you that’s not how it is with Ollie. I—”
Sitting up, he swings his long legs over the side of the bed. “Not jealous in that way, Silver. I know there’s nothing like that between you. I’m jealous because I can’t be the man who’ll give you all the things you’re going to want someday. It’s true,” he says when I immediately start shaking my head, “and that’s how it should be. You deserve a guy who can live a whole life by your side. If I had any sense of honor, I’d let you go.”
I could murder Ollie. “But we’ve been over this. I’ll age well and probably won’t want kids. We can have years of happiness. Just like you said last night—it doesn’t matter how long something lasts. You have to seize it.”
“I know, and we will seize it. But eventually, it’ll end, and I’ll lose you to another man. I’m so jealous of someone else being able to give you that part of your life I can’t see straight.”
I drop to my knees at the edge of the bed, gazing up into his eyes. “Why are you thinking like this all of a sudden?”
His hand brushes the side of my face, smoothing hair away from my cheek. “Because I can tell, deep down, you know Ollie spoke the truth. One day, you’ll want things I can’t give you. I’ll be your first love and some other man your last. I want to be your first and last, just like you are for me.”
His eyes look sad and green, like round, bottomless lakes. I take his hands in mine. “But it’s like we said last night—we don’t know what will happen, and right now, I want you. I want to go away with you, wake up next to you every day. Right now, you’re the first and last. That’s all that matters, Logan.”
He squeezes my hands in his, rubbing roughened thumbs over my skin. “This is such role reversal.”
I chuckle. “It’s funny. I never had you pegged for the needy type.”
“Needy?” he repeats, meeting my eyes, his dimples flashing. “I think I prefer brooding and deep.”
“There’s nothing brooding and deep about this conversation, Mr. Needy. It’s got insecurity written all over it. It’s a good thing you’re a decent shag or I might jump ship.”
He laughs, eyes softening. “Just a decent shag, you say? Judging by those wild animal noises you make, I’d say I was a little more than just decent.”
“You do still want to run away with me, don’t you?”
Leaning over, he rests his cool forehead against mine. “Of course I do.”
I kiss him gently on the mouth, rubbing my face against the rough stubble on his chin like a cat. “I’m glad to hear it. Because, as it happens, you’re stuck with me.”
He sighs happily, brushing my lips with his. “I’ll love you forever, Silver. Whatever happens.”
“Good,” I whisper. “Because I love you too.”
* * *
After I’m packed, I stand in the tiny living room of my flat and look around at all my things with the
kind of fondness you only feel when you’re about to leave a place.
“I was happy here,” I blurt out.
Logan, who is leaning against the kitchen counter, runs his hands along the smooth surface. “I’ve been very happy here too,” he says, grinning. “Particularly in this spot—the place where you first molested me.”
“Pffft. Don’t you mean the spot where you begged me to touch you?” I adopt a bad Irish accent. “Ooh, Silver, please touch me. I’m dying for the love of a woman like you.”
He laughs. “I don’t think so, Miss Harris. The way I remember it, you couldn’t pull my zipper down fast enough. I was almost afraid for the safety of my crown jewels.”
I step across to the counter, placing my hands to either side of him on the wood, the same as he did to me all those weeks ago. His arms circle my waist and he pulls me against him, crushing me to the steely planes of his muscles before ducking to nuzzle warm lips against my neck. “I don’t suppose we have time for a reenactment, do we?” he asks, trailing kisses into the collar of my blouse and liquefying me from the neck down.
“We should go,” I murmur, tipping my head back to allow him better access. “Remember what Ronin said.”
At the mention of his former boss, Logan’s lips still mid-kiss. He groans, lifting his head up. “We’ll save it for the hotel.”
“Yes, the hotel. How will you ever match the luxury of the Savoy? I expect to be kept in the manner to which I’ve grown accustomed.”
Logan smiles and opens his mouth to answer when the shrill noise of my mobile vibrating on the kitchen counter interrupts us.
“Well, look at that,” I say, reaching around him and snatching up the phone. “We would have been interrupted from our shenanigans anyway.”
I stare down at the display, hoping to see Ollie’s name flash up, but it’s an unknown caller instead.
“Aren’t you going to answer?” Logan asks, watching me frown.