The response catches me off guard. I move closer, studying his profile in the dim light. Shadows carve deep hollows beneath his cheekbones, and the skin around his eyes looks bruised with exhaustion.
“You’ve already been up all night,” I observe, stating the obvious because I don’t know what else to say.
“Ares is busy sleeping through his vigil outside whatever room you’re in,” Logan replies, a hint of bitterness coloring his tone. “Poe went to bed. Cillian is still lounging in a sick bed. Someone has to keep watch on the door.”
I inexplicably want to to bring up the discussion I had with Cillian, but the words die in my throat. Logan is too imposing like this, his golden eyes reflecting the dim lamplight, his body coiled with tension like a dragon that could breathe fire at any moment.
“Cillian isn’t doing well,” I say instead, the concern in my voice genuine despite my attempt at a casual tone.
Logan raises an eyebrow, his expression expectant but otherwise unreadable.
Irritation flares in me at his lack of response. “You should consider visiting him.”
“You seem to have that covered.”
I resist the urge to slap him. “I’m not his Alpha.”
“Well, I’m apparently not allowed to be any room that has you in it.” Logan replies, his voice dry. “We don’t need any more medical emergencies, which is what will happen if I try to get past Ares.”
“We can work something out,” I snap.
Logan’s gaze finally shifts to me, those golden eyes studying my face with an intensity that makes my skin prickle with awareness. “Can we?”
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Cillian thinks we can.”
Interest flickers in Logan’s eyes, the first real emotion I’ve seen from him tonight. He sets his glass aside, giving me his full attention. “Does he now? And what exactly did Cillian propose?”
“He thinks he could be a buffer,” I say carefully, choosing my words with precision. “Between us. To create balance.”
Logan’s expression shifts, something like understanding dawning in his eyes. “Ah,” he says, the single syllable somehow conveying volumes. “And you’re amenable to this arrangement?”
The clinical phrasing makes me bristle. “He needs you, so I’m considering it.”
His gaze passes up and down my body, slightly mocking. “How flattering.”
“I’m not saying I forgive you,” I say, needing to make this clear. “I’m not saying I trust you.”
“I don’t recall asking for either one,” Logan replies, watching me closely as he rises slowly to his feet. “You’ve made it clear you aren’t doing this for me.”
I hold my ground as he approaches, fighting the instinct to retreat. He stops just out of arm’s reach, respecting the invisible boundary between us in a way that feels significant.
“How would this work exactly?” he asks, his gaze steady on mine. “This buffer arrangement with Cillian.”
The directness of the question makes my mouth go dry. Images from last night flash through my mind—Cillian’s hands on me, his voice in my ear describing how the three of us could be together. The way my body responded to the idea of both of them, of the balance they might create.
“I don’t know exactly,” I lie, my voice barely above a whisper. “We didn’t get that far in the discussion.”
Logan’s eyes darken, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I see. Then I suppose I’ll just have to follow your lead.”
A flutter of anticipation through me, quickly suppressed. “One step at a time.”
“One step at a time,” he agrees, his gaze still intent on my face. “Starting with you allowing me to check on Cillian without Ares tackling me to the ground.”
This close, his scent is overwhelming. I force myself to take a step back. “I’ll talk to Ares.”
“And I’ll talk to Cillian,” Logan says, gaze lingering on me like he’s considering closing the distance I just created. “I’d love to hear his perspective on this...arrangement.”
The thought of the two of them discussing me, discussing what happened between Cillian and me last night, sends heat rushing to my face.
