Chapter 15: Thanks for caring

(Jaime)

I wake up in sheer panic, my heart racing and the feeling of hands on me has me thrashing wildly. The hands are gentle though, and one at the back of my head guides me to rest my cheek against warm, solid flesh.

“Shhh… shhh… It’s okay, I’ve got you. It was just a nightmare. You’re safe,” the low, baritone voice soothes with a hand rubbing me gently on my back.

I inhale that scent and feel myself slowly relax. My breathing evens out. My mind calms down and my heartbeat returns to normal. Logan. Logan’s here. I’m safe.

He keeps holding me gently against his chest, rocking slightly like one would when comforting a child. Then he picks me up and places me in his lap, continuing with the soothing rumbling in his chest and the rocking and the stroking of my back.

“See? That’s better. You’re safe, nothing to worry about. I’ve got you.”

I become acutely aware of the fact that he’s practically naked and that my whole body is plastered against his. And while there’s nothing untoward in his touch or his words, the echo of my dream is just too raw still.

I push at him, scrambling to get off his lap, for him to let me go. And he does, immediately. I feel his twinge of concern and then pain as I scoot back from him, trying to add as much distance a possible and he gets up immediately, his hands up in a gesture of ‘no harm’.

It’s pitch dark in the room, or supposed to be, but somehow, I know that I can see clearly even if it’s dark.

“I’m sorry. I came in because you were distressed. I only meant to help,” he says, looking at me with those kind eyes. I relax again.

“Uhm… I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have reacted that way.” I say, feeling slightly guilty now for having done so.

“You’d probably know this better than me, being a doctor, but don’t be too hard on yourself, okay. You’ve endured significant trauma. I think it’s pretty natural for you to have nightmares, and distressed reactions to half naked men touching you. Sorry about that.” He sounded a bit sheepish now, looking down at himself in nothing but a pair of silky boxers. “I’ll go put something on and bring you a cup of cocoa. Is that okay?”

I just nodded, my emotions still all over the place. There was something there…. in my dream… just out of reach. I try to sort through the memory, but just like a typical dream it’s slunk away, and I’m only left with this echo… a feeling more than a memory.

I shudder as that feeling of horror and pain and panic lingers.

Logan comes back into the room carrying two mugs of steaming cocoa. I inhale the delicious scent that mingles with his, calm now that he’s here again.

“Thank you,” I say as I reach for a mug and he hands it to me, handle first. He smiles. “You’re welcome. Is it okay if I sit here?” He nods towards the side of the bed.

“Yes.”

He takes a seat, the mattress dipping under his weight, and takes a careful sip of the cocoa. I take one too and almost groan with delight at the rich, sweet chocolaty taste.

His pupils dilate at the sound of my moan and there’s a tug of desire that unfurls in my gut. I think it comes from him, but it ignites a warmth in me that’s all mine.

He gives a low, guttural laugh and shakes his head as if to dislodge something stuck in his mind. “That good, huh?” he teases, and I giggle.

“I don’t think I’ve had hot cocoa in what… ten years? It’s… more than just good.” I mull over my own word choice. I wanted to say it’s orgasmic, but it would have been very inappropriate given the feelings stirring between us right now. Besides, I don’t know what an orgasm actually feels like – it’s just a turn of phrase.

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“Well, I hope it makes you feel better, and helps you to sleep better too,” he says and tries his best to focus on the mug he’s cradling in his hands rather than me.

“I’m sure it will. Thanks for caring.”

That makes him look up again in surprise.

“Hey, of course I care. We’re bonded, remember? From the moment I first saw you, you’ve lived here.” He places his hand over his heart, right there where his bulging pecs strains against a tight black t-shirt. His words and his gesture melts something in me.

“We really are, aren’t we? Bonded, I mean.” I whisper and he smiles.

“Yes, yes we are.”

He leaves my room not long after, after having tucked me back in under the covers and placed a kiss on my forehead. The spot where his lips touched still tingles when I feel sleep dragging me into oblivion again.

----------------------------------------

The room is still dark when I wake up again, safe in my cocoon of warm, fresh bedding. But I can hear birds chirping outside, and the feint noises of someone busy in a kitchen downstairs. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hear those yesterday, so I concentrate on the chirp of a specific bird, trying to pinpoint its location.

Then I realize that my hearing is definitely enhanced. And I wasn’t mistaken about my eyesight either. I can see everything in this room clearly, even though my brain registers that the room is dark.

I sit up, leaning against the bed’s headrest.

All of this werewolf stuff should have me reeling. I should be feeling something other than this…. acceptance. But I’m not reeling. Instead, I have this conviction that there’s no turning back. I am what Logan and the doctor claimed I am: a werewolf.

This acceptance that I now realize I have suddenly brings out a strange, primal sensation to course through my veins. It’s a raw, animalistic energy that I’ve never experienced before. Deep down I know the difference: it’s as if my very biology had been altered, transformed not by the knowledge that I’m a werewolf. Or even that I’ve always been one. But by Logan’s marking of me. And of my acceptance of the fact that I am his mate. It’s knowing without a shadow of a doubt that my fate is now inexplicably intertwined with Logan’s, and I’m perfectly okay with that. I feel it pulsing within me, a powerful, untamed force that both terrifies and intrigues me. Maybe this is my wolf waking up?

I throw off the covers with a renewed energy and stretch my muscles, reveling in this feeling. As I rush through my morning routine, I feel driven to find Logan, to tell him that I want to mark him too.

I track him down in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in hand and chatting to Maggie while she bustles around the stove. They both turn my way when I enter, and Logan’s brows lift as he senses my change of mood.

“Good morning. You’ve clearly slept better after that cacao. How are you feeling?” he asks with a smile.

I return his smile with one of my own as I take in his appearance, for the first time really looking at him. What a beautifully crafted male specimen he is. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, and the shirt can’t hide his muscled torso and bulging biceps. Everything about him screams strength and dependability.

In my limited experience of beautiful men, of which I was surrounded by often when I worked as a model, those that didn’t even have half his looks were mostly vain, mostly into other men and mostly somewhat lacking in intelligence. It’s a gross generalization, I know, just like people always assume much the same about female models. But I digress… Logan was very clearly not vain, highly intelligent, and definitely into women. Or at least… me.

My smile grows wider when I realize that. Yes, he is into me. And guess what? I’m into him too. Whether it’s the mate bond or not, I don’t care. He told me I’m his, and I want him to be mine too.

“Hey. I did sleep better, thank you. And I’m feeling fine. And I have something I want to tell you!” I say, swinging between excitement and the need to hug this newfound realization to my heart for a few more moments.

“Okay. How about I give you a tour of the house after breakfast, then we can chat in my office?”

My excitement dips slightly. I kind of expected him to want to hear it immediately. But then Maggie moves behind him with a spatula in her hand I get it. He wants to talk in private.

“Good morning, Luna. Would you like some bacon and eggs for breakfast? They’re fresh from the pan!” she greets me brightly and I smile a greeting back.

“Morning Maggie. Thanks for the offer, but I’d like to aim for something lighter if that’s okay? I’m happy to grab some muesli with fruit and yogurt if you have some. If you point me in the right direction, I can help myself,” I explain, and Logan moves towards the fridge.

“Fruit and yogurt in here,” he says as he removes a container with cut fruit, followed by another container of yogurt. “And muesli in the pantry just through that door.” He points to a door to my right.

“Great, thanks,” I say and go fetch what I need from the fully stocked walk-in pantry.

I refuse Logan’s offer for coffee and help myself to a glass of water instead. We eat in comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other as we go. This was going to be a good day.