Fighting Fate (Redwood Pack #7)

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Fighting Fate (Redwood Pack #7) Page 5

by Carrie Ann Ryan


  Cailin was not alone in the way she treated him, though. Most of the Redwood Pack members kept their distance, their wariness of the darkness in his soul justified.

  He’d lost control for just a moment on the battlefield. That moment could have ended so much worse for those who fought alongside him. It was a twist of fate, a stroke of luck, that he’d only killed Centrals in the first place.

  Yet, Patricia Jamenson had jumped in the line of fire for him.

  Logan had no idea how he was supposed to repay that, if there even was a way to repay that. Even if he could, he wasn’t sure the Redwoods, and the Jamensons in particular, would want him to.

  Would take what he had to offer.

  Logan Anderson wasn’t a normal werewolf. No, he was even darker than North, the one Jamenson brother who thought he had a grasp on the darkness that had almost claimed him. But while North had to deal only with a wolf who craved the violence of the beast, Logan had another power to overcome. He’d left bouts of anger, control issues, and death in his trail over the years, and he’d fought to overcome it.

  He’d been blessed by the moon goddess.

  No, that wasn’t right.

  He’d been cursed.

  While most wolves knew the story of the first hunters—humans who had been given the soul of the wolf to learn the value of taking a life—Logan was not like them. The moon goddess had been the one to grant the human hunters the power when she’d walked amongst the mortals.

  According to Logan’s father and legend, the Andersons were the first of that line.

  That was why Lexi had been given the strength of the moon goddess to fight Caym in their last fight with the Centrals. Without that, the demon would have killed his sister. Lexi hadn’t known the connection, the power, the fear. It hadn’t surprised him. He’d had it all his life.

  That was why he had an extra curse from the goddess herself. He’d been born for something more, something he didn’t understand. That was what his wolf told him and what his father had told him long ago. The extra strength, the extra adrenaline that came with the darkness of his wolf made it harder for him not to act Alpha.

  Though not all could feel the presence of the difference of Logan’s wolf, Edward did. He’d watched Logan like a hawk and hadn’t let him gain too much power in the hierarchy. Logan had never blamed the Alpha for that. In fact, his own wolf had liked the fact that another wolf had been ready to take the reins and allow him to follow a new path.

  Oh yes, that new path had been the Alpha’s daughter.

  Hence the other reason for watching Logan closely.

  No one was good enough for Cailin Jamenson.

  From the way Cailin avoided from him, he had a feeling she knew that as well.

  It didn’t matter now anyway. Her mother had died for him. There was no way he’d ever be good enough for her…be what she needed.

  At this point, he didn’t even know what he needed.

  The moon goddess had cursed him for a fate he didn’t understand.

  Fate had allowed him to find his mate, one he could never have.

  Fate fucking sucked.

  He wanted no part of any of the judgments. No part of a destiny that took him for granted. Nothing. No matter the path it put him on, he’d fight. He was through with the world as it was, the battles, the war, the torment. He wanted peace. And waiting for Cailin to find him wasn’t working anymore.

  He wasn’t good enough for her, and everyone knew it.

  Disgusted with himself and his train of thought, he shook his head, pounded back the last of his drink, and stripped his shirt off so he could go for a run. Maybe if he went wolf and let his beast run wild, he’d burn off the anger.

  Burn off the shame.

  He stripped quickly then walked naked into the backyard. When they’d first moved to the Redwood den, he, Lexi, and Parker, had taken one of the smaller guest houses on the Jamenson property. While they could have stayed in any of the empty houses within the den, the Jamensons had wanted the Andersons close.

  Not only had North wanted Lexi near, but Logan had a feeling the Alpha wanted them near. The other members of the den hadn’t been too keen on allowing outsiders, and Logan hadn’t wanted to deal with them anyway. He was more lone wolf than Pack most days, and sometimes there was no fixing that, no changing the fact that he’d lived with the curse of his wolf for his entire life, hiding who he was.

  Once outside, he let the moon’s light tingle on his skin before pulling on the bond with his wolf. The change came over quickly, slower than an Alpha but faster than most dominant wolves. Soon, instead of two feet, he stood on four paws, his wolf on the prowl, ready for the hunt. Contrary to popular belief, werewolves did not need the moon to change. It certainly helped, and during full moons, some of the less dominant Pack members needed to shift so they could burn off their energy.

  He shook his head, letting his wolf take over so he wouldn’t have to think, wouldn’t have to feel. The pads of his paws hit the ground hard as he ran with all his endurance, pushing himself to the limit so he could feel the burn. The sounds of prey—rabbits, deer, and other mammals—got further away. Prey skittering off, their fear radiating off of them. They knew a predator was in their midst, and though Logan wasn’t in the mood for blood, he would take the chase, the dominance.

  He ran for twenty minutes or so, knowing that the Jamenson meeting might be ending soon. He wanted to be there in case Lexi or anyone else needed him. The ache in his muscles didn’t hurt but rather let his mind focus on his body, rather than in his heart. He shifted back so he stood naked in his backyard, sweaty, chest heaving from running too fast, too hard, and still he needed to find the will to become the man who would survive and make it through the day.

  With one last deep breath, the fresh scent of the forest not enough to clean his lungs, he strode back into the house, heading toward the shower. He needed to wash the grime off, the sweat and memories that he knew would lay on his skin like a film no matter how many times he showered.

  Jets of hot water pounded onto his back, and he closed his eyes, not wanting to think even knowing it would be a lost cause. He filled a loofah with some of the flowery crap Lexi had left in the shower since he didn’t have anything else. He’d been too busy dealing with helping the Jamensons to worry about things like soap. As he scrubbed down his body, the image of a particular Jamenson filled his mind, and he lowered his hand to his cock, unable to stop himself.

  Cailin’s green eyes gazed at him in his vision, and he soaped up his length, his dick filling quickly where it lay heavy in his palm. He dropped the loofah and cupped his balls, rolling them in his hand as he imagined them in her mouth, one at a time as she sucked on them like candy. The groan escaping his lips filled the room, and he let go of his balls so he could use his hand to lean against the shower wall. Bending forward, he let the water wash down his back as he gripped his shaft firmly, sliding up and down. He imagined Cailin on her knees in front of him, her hands submissively behind her back.

  No, that wouldn’t be his Cailin. She’d never submit fully to him, and he wouldn’t want that. He wanted to dominate her but have her fight back with the intensity he knew she possessed—had witnessed.

  Instead, he imagined her raking her nails down his thighs as she sucked him down her throat. He’d wrap her hair around his fist and fuck her face hard, fast, exactly what both of them would need.

  He let his thumb trace over the precum at the tip of his dick and slide over the slit, imagining her tongue doing the same as he blew him. With that image on his brain, he grunted, increasing his pace until his balls drew up, tightening. He shouted her name as he came, spurts of come hitting the shower wall, sliding down to mix with the water now cooling in the bottom of the tub.

  With one last quick rinse, he got out of the shower and toweled off. Coming might have taken off a slight edge, but he was still running hot.

  There was only one person who could help with that, and he knew, at this point, it
would be a lost cause. He couldn’t even go to her to help her grieve. He was one of the reasons she was in pain as it was, and from the way things had been since they’d met, he knew he wouldn’t be the company she wanted. He might never be the company she needed. That was just one more thing he would have to learn to deal with. There was no way he’d inflict his presence on her. Not anymore.

  Just as he pulled on his jeans, his wolf scented her. He didn’t bother buttoning up his jeans or pulling on a shirt, his wolf—and the man—needed her beyond all rationality. He was already walking toward the door before he could rethink his decision and try to keep away. She hadn’t knocked but stood on his porch, her head down, her shoulders slumped.

  “Cailin,” he breathed, not knowing what else to say.

  What else could he say to the woman he wanted more than anything and knew he could never have?

  Her head lifted, and she blinked up at him. Once. Twice. His wolf nudged him, begging for their mate. He could get lost in those eyes, the deep pools of green pulling him in and never letting him go.

  Logan held out his arms, not knowing if she’d come to him, but honestly, she’d already come to his door. If she needed to take the extra step, he’d open himself to her. He might have told himself he’d back away, unable to deal with the pain and rejection, but he’d been an idiot.

  He could no more walk away from Cailin than he could walk away from his wolf.

  “Come here,” he ordered.

  He didn’t know if it was the right thing to say, but he was beyond waiting, second-guessing.

  Cailin licked her lips then took two steps, resting her head on his chest while wrapping her arms around his waist. He pulled his arms in, holding her close as they stood in the doorway. He could hear other wolves around them, scent their presence, but the others were too far away to see what was going on. They were all in their homes, grieving as they should be. They shouldn’t care that the Redwood Pack princess was at his door, in his arms.

  The others had watched him and Cailin dance around each other yet hadn’t pushed them. A mating was a private thing, despite the fact that, as wolves, others would be able to sense a change in them, sense the hint of connection.

  Cailin wasn’t his mate, though his wolf already thought of her as that, and he’d slipped up a few times in his head as well. She was a potential. One of the few—and sometimes even the only—whom he could mate with and create a true bond. The mating bond would connect their souls in a special and unique way. No two matings were the same.

  However, both parties could ignore the mating urge if they needed to, if they didn’t have the right chemistry in their human forms.

  It would hurt.

  It had been hurting with Cailin, but he’d take the pain for just a moment with her in his arms.

  Fuck, he was a sap when it came to the green-eyed princess clutched to his chest.

  They stood there for a few more moments before he pulled away, but he didn’t let go of her completely. He led her into his home, closing the door behind them. His wolf liked her scent mingling with his, her presence in his home. His wolf also wanted to lock her up and never let her go.

  Sometimes his wolf just had to deal with not getting what he wanted.

  “Tell me what I can do, princess,” he said, his voice low.

  Her eyes widened at the word spoken as an endearment, and he held back a curse. He needed to dial the need and desire back if he had any chance of comforting her tonight. Though for all he knew, she was there for a fight so she could blow off steam and let out her own form of aggression and deep-seated anger.

  Of course, he’d help her with that if that’s what she needed.

  Anything to take away the darkness and grief in her eyes.

  “I…I don’t know why I’m here,” she whispered.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. Oh, she was lying all right. Either to him or to herself. She knew why she’d come, but maybe on some level, she didn’t know why she’d needed to be on his doorstep. He wouldn’t have blamed her for never wanting to talk to him again. The only reason he had a feeling that wasn’t the case here was that she’d come willingly into his arms.

  He wasn’t counting his chickens though.

  Logan licked his lips and held back a groan at the way her eyes followed the movement. This was not the time to indulge in the fantasies that had plagued him since he’d first seen her when he’d come to the Pack.

  He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his wolf clawing at him when she moved her cheek into the gesture. He cupped her face and brought his forehead to hers. They’d never been this close, not really. Oh, when he’d been hurt when he and North had fought the demon stupidly on their own, Cailin had come to his side and tended his wounds, but she’d kept her distance.

  It was as if her wolf required her to help him, but the woman hadn’t wanted to put down roots. He understood that. It hurt like hell, but he understood. They were together often, helping the children, helping Jasper or Adam with their duties, but the tenderness she showed him now, and he showed her, hadn’t been like this before.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asked.

  “I…I just need you,” she whispered, her eyes filling. “Please, just make the pain go away.”

  He brought her to his chest then, picked her up and cradled her to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed into him, tears soaking his skin.

  “You couldn’t cry before, could you?” he asked as he brought her to his room. It was the only place big enough for him to hold her close and make her comfortable.

  Or at least as comfortable as she could be in his bed.

  It would have to do.

  Cailin hiccupped into his neck and shook her head.

  “It’s okay, baby. Cry it out.” He got into the bed and laid back, rubbing his hand down her back, his own eyes filling.

  God, it hurt so fucking much to watch her like this. His strong, vibrant Cailin broken and hurting in his arms. There wasn’t anything he could do. No matter how strong he was, how strong his wolf was, he couldn’t bring her parents back. Couldn’t stop Pat from dying for him…Edward from doing the same for Cailin.

  While she broke down, he murmured to her, knowing nothing he could say would make it better, but he’d try anyway. His wolf howled for her, wanting to kill anything that could harm her, that could make her do this, but there was nothing to do but hold her close and let her break down.

  Finally, after an hour or so, she quieted, her body shaking.

  She leaned away from him and shifted so she was fully on his lap while he sat against the headboard.

  “Thank you,” she croaked.

  He kissed her temple then moved her so she lay on the bed. “No thanks needed, princess. Lie right here and let me get you some water. You need to rehydrate.” She nodded, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy but looking as beautiful as ever.

  He cupped her check once more before leaving the room and padding to the kitchen where he quickly filled a glass with water and found a couple herbal tablets Hannah had left for him. Wolves couldn’t take normal medications since their metabolism worked too fast, but there were some herbs that could be used as pain relievers.

  Cailin would have one monster of a headache once she finally settled. In fact, she probably already had one.

  When he got back to the bedroom, he willed his cock to stand down at the sight of her in his bed. This wasn’t the right time to be thinking about her like this, not when she needed to feel safe. Or at least as safe as she could be.

  “Take these and drink the whole glass of water,” he ordered.

  She nodded, the usual spunk and quick commentary he loved from her nonexistent. The Cailin in his bed right now was just the shell of the woman he knew he’d love one day. He vowed to himself he’d do all in his power to ensure the old Cailin came back.

  Or at least a Cailin who held the fire in her eyes and in her veins.

  He wasn’t sure any of them would come back
from what had happened and be the same.

  When she finished the water, he took the glass from her and set it on the nightstand before getting back into bed. Her eyes widened slightly as she stared at his still naked chest and undone jeans, but she leaned into his hold anyway when he held out an arm. She fit perfectly against him, her head on his chest, her hand rubbing small circles over his stomach.

  His cock hardened at her soft touches, but he ignored it.

  “My parents are dead, Logan,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes at the pain in her voice and squeezed her tightly. “I know, princess. I’m so fucking sorry.” His throat closed, and he coughed, trying to breathe again. “I’m so, so sorry about it all. Damn it, your mom shouldn’t have done that.”

  He winced at his words, but the truth needed to get out. It would only fester between them if he didn’t tell her what he thought, didn’t explain what had happened on the field.

  Cailin turned so she sat and faced him, her touch never leaving his body. “I’m all cried out, Logan. I don’t know if I have anything left in me.” He ran a hand up her arm and cupped her face, needing her.

  “You can’t blame yourself, princess.”

  That fire he’d missed in her eyes flared back for a moment before dying again. That was at least progress.

  “Who else do I blame, hmm?”

  He growled, low and full of promise. “How about the fucking demon who started it all?”

  Cailin lifted a lip and bared fang. “You don’t think I blame him as well? But my parents died because of me. Sure, Caym dealt the deathblow, but if I had been stronger, faster, anything more than I am, my father wouldn’t have had to push me out of the way. He’d still be alive.”

  Logan pulled her onto his lap so she straddled him. Her breath hitched, and he knew she felt his dick against her pussy, but he didn’t care. He just needed her.

  “I don’t know what I’d do if your father hadn’t done that.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed a finger against her lips. “I’m not saying that I’m not torn up over what happened. I’m saying that I don’t know what I’d do if I’d lost you. I know we haven’t talked about what we are to each other because we’re not ready. In fact, I’m not even going to mention that right now—again. But I will say that what I feel for you means that without you in this world, with me or not, I’d be a broken man.”

 

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