UnMasked

by Yara Gharios

  I look down shamefully. “Sorry, I just want that out of my head before we kiss,” I boldly say. “I’m not going to like it if I’m always thinking how my first time was ruined.” I look up at him hopefully. “Can you go back in time and let me redo it with you?”

  At a loss, Logan can only stare at me. “How about just a kiss to the forehead for now, and I’ll promise to do my best to erase that memory when you’re not drunk? You may not want to kiss me sober.”

  Pleased, I smile giddily at him. “Okay.”

  He smiles back and leans forward, planting his lips to my forehead. It feels nice. For like a second. Until I find out that the butterflies in my stomach are not at all butterflies, when I dive over the side of the cot and hurl all over the floor. Logan holds my hair back, which is actually too short, but it’s the thought that counts.

  How romantic, I sarcastically think to myself. As if to prove my own point, I also pass out.

  CHAPTER 18

  Some say hangovers are the worst way to wake up. I disagree. I think, over the years, I’ve experienced some worse ways, thanks to my brothers. But I still can’t say I’m okay opening my eyes to this feeling. My head is not pounding the way I hear my brothers complain after they’ve partied too hard, but it does hurt a little. When I open my eyes into little slits, the light doesn’t bother me, nor does any slight noise give me a headache.

  However, I feel like a ton of bricks. That’s really the only way I can describe it. My whole body is a big heavy mass that I feel too lazy to move. Even shifting my arm, which is starting to grow numb at my side, is a feat that I don’t want to exhaust myself with. My shoulder is growing stiff while my head is resting against the too rough pillow. Sleepily, I roll it to diffuse the tension.

  There’s a low moan from somewhere, and a voice croaks, “Morning.”

  My eyes fly open to find Logan’s chest –fully clothed– in my face. I scream and jerk away from him, falling off the cot in the process and landing flat on my back. The air in my lungs is knocked out of me. For a moment, I lie there with a silent gasp rounding my lips, staring at the ceiling of the cabin, as the pain in my back spreads up my spine and into the back of my skull.

  Logan sits up in the bed, but he doesn’t make a move to help me. “Sh*t, are you okay?” he asks with worry.

  “Ow,” I finally groan when I’m able to speak. “That’s probably the fastest I’ve been woken up.”

  Nausea hits me. Well, it’s not really nausea, to be exact, but it’s building to it. The ceiling starts a spiraling dance above me. I try to close my eyes, but it only increases the dizziness, so I open them wide and wait for it to pass.

  “What times is it?” I ask to distract myself.

  Pause. “Just after noon. Dylan, are you okay?” Logan repeats.

  I shush him, absent minded. “Give me a minute.”

  He waits it out with me. The roof stops spinning after a few seconds, but the nausea is still there. I’m afraid to move even a little, in case it returns.

  “Help me up,” I request.

  He doesn’t reply immediately, which makes me roll my eyes in his direction to look at him, since I can’t fully turn my head without getting dizzy again. He’s dressed in the same clothes he was in yesterday, navy blue jeans and a plaid shirt that’s slightly open at the chest. There’s a mixture of discomfort and apology on his face.

  “Um,” he hesitates. “I’d rather you give me a moment this time.”

  Pressing my lips together, I feel the heat rising in my cheeks and avert my eyes pointedly to stare at the ceiling again. Now that he’s brought it up, sort of, and I’m wide-awake without anything distracting me, everything that happened yesterday comes back to me all at once. All the embarrassing things I said replay in my mind over and over, from the party and my little performance, to Logan carrying me to his family’s cabin and our talk.

  Looking around, I notice some things I missed yesterday. There aren’t any curtains in front of the window, and the room is bigger than I imagined, about ten feet by ten. The entire cabin is made of superposed tree logs, even the door. The ceiling, although constructed in basically the same way, also has some kind of transparent, waterproof cover, which I’m sure is designed to protect from the rain. The floor is the only modern-ish part of it because it’s made out of parquet flooring. I wonder who could have built this place.

  “What is this place?” I voice my thoughts.

  Again, there’s silence before I receive an answer. “Please tell me you remember what happened last night?” he finally asks.

  Oh, no, did I wake up and do something stupid? I panic.

  My eyes turn sharply back up to his half-sitting, half-lying on the cot form. “Why? What happened?” I frantically question. I am almost afraid that we slept together and I don’t remember it, but the fact that we’re both fully clothed says otherwise.

  He groans. “Great, you don’t. I didn’t think you were that drunk,” he admits with a sigh. “Basically, we talked for a while, and… you blurted out some things –”

  “I know all that,” I dismiss. “I mean after I passed out.”

  He frowns. “Oh. Nothing. I just made sure you were comfortable, sent out word that we were out here and that we were fine, cleaned up your puke and that’s it.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Then how did you end up next to me?”

  “I couldn’t very well sleep on the floor,” he remarks.

  One of my eyebrows shoots up. So far, he’s not doing so well in the romantic department, either. “A gentleman would have.”

  He bursts out laughing when I say that, which makes me realize I sounded stupid saying it out loud. I blush. Nevertheless, I hold my ground, however silly it may be. When he notices my scowl, his laugh breaks off, and his expression changes radically.

  “Wait, you’re serious?” he asks doubtfully.

  “You could have shown a bit more sensitivity to my state of mind last night and given me some space,” I say with disapproval.

  Logan’s confusion is kind of cute, to be honest, but I can’t be distracted by it. “But… I thought we went past that when we admitted that we love each other?”

  Blood rushes to my cheeks. How can he say it with so much ease? I’m having chills just thinking about him saying those three words.

  “I didn’t say it, you did,” I point out, forcing my flaming cheeks to calm down.

  “Yes, you did,” he insists vehemently. “You called yourself the girl who’s in love with me. Those were your exact words.”

  Damn, that’s true, I realize with embarrassment. I blush again.

  “Dylan, seriously, what are you doing right now?” Logan questions, frustrated. “You’re acting like nothing happened last night and you’re still mad at me. I told you that I love you, and that it’s not just the mate bond that’s making me feel this way. I’ve apologized for what led us to this. What more do you want from me?”

  He’s right, I know he is. Clearly, I woke up on the wrong side of the cot. I need to backtrack a little to be able to explain things to him from my point of view. Although I still feel like crap, I take a deep breath, letting it out in a heavy sigh, and then lift myself up from the floor. I sway a bit when I’m on my feet as another flash of dizziness passes through me. I hold my hands out to regain my balance.

  Logan gently grabs the one closest to him just as I start feeling good enough to open my eyes. He entangles our fingers together. Naturally, my heart starts pounding at the simple touch, awakening the pull and making me crave more. But I force myself not to act on it, because I need to let this all out first. I’m not going to make him guess anymore. That was my mistake from the start. I should have been honest with him from the moment I knew what he was to me.

  Coming clean really is the best approach with him, I’ve come to learn yesterday. He’s the kind of person that values honesty. He may not have reacted well when I told him my secret, but that was different; his whole world was shaken upside down. Anyone woul
d have reacted the same way.

  Keeping our hands tangled, I motion for him to scoot over, and I sit down next to him. “Let me start over, because there are some things I need you to understand before we proceed from here,” I say.

  He listens patiently, without speaking up once, which is good, because I know I’d get distracted if he did. It’s already enough that he’s holding my hand and rubbing circles against my knuckles, sending tingles through my palm and soothing me.

  “Forget everything that I was upset about for the time being, we’ll deal with that later,” I start with. “This life I grew up in, it’s very limiting and caging. Up until you guys showed up, Marianna was the only person who knew me, really knew me, and knew my secret. It’s always been important that I stay on high alert all the time in case someone suspects, and it’s because of this lifestyle that I’ve never had feelings for anyone. Of course, there were guys I was attracted to, but none ever developed.”

  He frowns a bit at that, somehow confused, but he doesn’t interrupt me.

  I go on. “I couldn’t ever imagine being with someone, only in my daydreams. So I really have no experience to benefit from. This, us,” –I lift our intertwined hands– “it’s very new and strange to me, regardless of the true mate thing. You have an advantage over me, here; you know what comes next, and you expect it. But I’m still trying to adjust to the simple things, like…” –I hesitate, blushing, which really just proves my point about how innocent and clueless I am in these things– “holding hands. If we go too fast, it’s going to overwhelm me.”

  It’s a relief when Logan sees what I’m getting at. “I understand,” he assures me. “Don’t worry. We’ll take it as slow as you want.”

  I give him a skeptical look. “Really? You can do that? Because just a few days ago, you were… incapable… of resisting the pull.”

  He chuckles softly and lifts my hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss to it that sets my heart racing once again.

  Oh God, I’m turning into a softie! I lament.

  Is it always going to be like this? Every time he touches me in so innocent a way, am I always going to have these nervous reactions? I sure hope not, because if it continues this way, I don’t know how long it will take me to go back on my word to take things slow.

  “I’ll settle for the small things, for now,” he promises with a radiant smile.

  My face goes against my will by returning it. “Really?” I pathetically ask. “You’ll do that?”

  That’s it, I’ve turned into a sap. I’m already much too in love with him to be able to control these things. He’s also too hot for his own good, and that smile is not helping the butterflies in my stomach in any way.

  Oh hey! I know what butterflies feel like, now!

  “Yeah,” he answers my question. “Just to be clear on something, though, since we’ve already said it, can I still tell you I love you whenever I want?”

  My already fast beating heart races, as if it wants to beat out of my chest and jump into his to dance with his very soul. I know he hears it. It makes it all the more embarrassing that his heart is not pumping as fast as mine is, although it is pretty fast.

  “If you want to kill me, sure,” I shakily say.

  He leans towards me all of a sudden, stopping just inches from my face. My entire resolve disappears. I’m this close to closing the gap between our lips. All he does, however, is smile, his breath fanning my face. He can’t do this to me at this time, I look terrible, and I’m sure I don’t smell too great, either.

  “What I want, aside from the obvious, is to hear you say it,” he whispers.

  My entire body somehow becomes slack, and I gasp involuntarily. “W–why?” I stutter.

  Out of nowhere, Logan grabs my thighs and tugs until I’m lying on my back. He leans over me, supporting his weight on his elbows and knees, which are on either side of me. Then he holds both my hands above my head. I’m trapped, and there’s nothing I can do to move. Not that I want to. I’m actually excited about where this is going, which is weird because it contradicts what I said about taking things slow. The look in his eyes as he stares down at me is not just love, like it was a second ago. It’s pure want.

  “Say it,” he orders, his smoldering eyes burning into mine and flickering between whatever color they usually are, and black.

  I feel myself giving in. “I love you, Logan,” I finally admit.

  A shudder goes through him, which in turn gives me shivers. I’m enjoying the effect I have on him way too much. But then he has to go and ruin it.

  The bastard smirks. “I knew I could make you say it,” he smugly boasts.

  My bubble of emotions pops, and I press my lips together as I glare at him. To my absolute delight, I take him completely off guard by pushing him off me and throwing him on the ground the same way I fell. He doesn’t shriek like I do, obviously, but he does let out a surprised sound before his back hits the ground. Leaning on my side, I prop myself up on one elbow and smirk at his groaning figure.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” I tease.

  “Nice to know you’re still you,” he protests.

  “Oh, I’m always going to be me, Logy, so you better deal with it.”

  He groans again, though I can tell it’s not from the fall this time. “Please stop calling me that,” he begs. “That name gets on my nerves.”

  “That’s what Reena used to call you,” I point out flatly.

  He glares at me. “You seriously have got to stop bringing up my exes when we’re having a moment.”

  My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “As in plural?”

  Unimpressed, Logan gives me a flat look. “Seriously? Now?”

  I shrug. “I told you, I don’t know how this works,” I remind him. “Am I supposed to ask you about it when we’re having breakfast, or wait till we’re not in the mood for lovey–dovey stuff to bring it up, or what?”

  “I’ll tell you when it’s the right moment,” he answers cryptically.

  It’s almost like there’s something he’s not telling me, although I’m sure no girl he ever dated could have ever been worse than Reena, and I’ve dealt okay with that. Sort of. I decide to take his word for it that he would tell me, because I know how he values honesty.

  When that’s out of the way, Logan sits up on the ground next to the cot, and I remain in the same propped up position I’m in because it’s too comfortable to move. Frowning, he brings his hand up to my cheek, his mind miles away.

  “I’m so sorry I punched you,” he sincerely apologizes. “I feel terrible about that, in retrospect. I mean, it felt wrong at the time, but now, I’m –”

  I don’t like how he’s beating himself up for it, so I bring my free hand up to cover his mouth. Sure, I’ve wanted to hear him apologize for that since the moment he did it, but I don’t want him to feel so guilty. It’s done, and no amount of self-reproach on his part could ever change that.

  “Don’t,” I stop him. “It was a shock, but I’m over it.” I smirk and try to make a joke out of it. “At least now I know you’d punch whatever punk tried to come onto me. Every girl’s dream.”

  Thankfully, he catches on to my good humor and smiles against my palm. He catches my hand in his and kisses it before pulling it away so he could speak.

  He seems to like hand kissing a lot, I remark, and then retort to myself a second later. That’s because you basically told him to treat you like you’re his fourth-grade girlfriend.

  I’m really starting to regret that decision, by the way.

  “Unless you punch him first,” he teases.

  I pretend to be offended. “I may be a tomboy and like to wrestle, but I am not a violent person,” I retort.

  For some reason, Logan smirks. “You like to wrestle, huh?”

  I roll my eyes. Of course. He could be the sweetest guy in the world, and we could be having the biggest moment we’ve ever had, yet his mind would still be set to register only certain parts of everything a girl says.
/>   “And here I thought you were sensitive,” I mock.

  He chuckles. “Doesn’t mean I’m not a guy,” he throws back, before pulling a one eighty and becoming serious again. “Hey, so when can –?”

  Suddenly, the Milkshake song starts ringing from his cell phone.

  While I burst out laughing at his ringtone, Logan doesn’t find it amusing, and I see him blush for the first time since I met him.

  “Damn Sadie,” he mutters before reaching for the device under the cot. “What?” he barks as I continue to laugh.

  “Sorry to bother you on your honeymoon, but something’s happened that you need to know about,” Cade’s voice says in complete seriousness, which causes my laughing and joyous mood to slowly die down as I listen.

  “What is it?” Logan asks, immediately falling into alpha mode.

  “It may be nothing, but you still should know this.”

  Logan throws a glance at me and pauses for a couple of seconds before answering. “Okay, I’m on my way.”

  Standing up, he slips his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, puts his shoes one in two swift movements, and holds his hand out to me. I hesitantly take it, not knowing how I should be acting right now. He pulls me to my feet.

  Thankfully, he saves me from having to ask. “Want me to carry you all the way back so you can admire my handsome face and smell my neck again?”

  I roll my eyes. Typical.

  “Honestly, can’t a drunk girl catch a break?” I retort. “And for the record, I called you pretty, not handsome, which is not very masculine, so don’t be too proud of that. And didn’t the neck thing bother you and make you uncomfortable?”

  Logan throws his head back and laughs the loudest laugh I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. I watch him with a mixture of confusion and frustration over the fact that I don’t get what’s so funny.

  “Trust me,” he says, still laughing, “I was enjoying it more than you think.”

  That’s when it finally clicks what that was about. I feel myself blushing again. Well, sh*t, now I know how to turn him on in the future.