That’s what he’d thought. “Niall said he’s your mate.”
She nodded. “You knew that. I told you.”
“What do you intend to do?” His chest heated.
She sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve put him off, but I’m twenty-five, and that’s the prescribed age. Maybe our scientists are right, and this matchmaking is necessary.” Her words were stark, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. “I want to do the right thing, and my people mean everything to me. But something has held me back from committing.”
He looked over at her, giving her his full attention. He could ensure that the Fae bloodline would continue with some demon-vampire mix in there. The idea of her mating somebody else felt like a blade through his chest. “If I mate you, your obligation to Niall won’t be a problem.”
Chapter 27
Mercy awoke with a start and a pain in her neck from leaning her head against the truck window for hours. It was still dark—maybe around two or three in the morning? She straightened. “Where are we?”
“Safe house.” Logan released her seat belt and pulled her across the seat to step out of the truck with her held safely against his broad chest.
Cool air brushed her, and she blinked, looking up. A small cabin sat in front of a winding river surrounded by what smelled like pine trees. The single-floor dwelling had a low, pitched roof with broad overhanging eaves. The ribbons of windows, central chimney and strong horizontal lines reminded her of somebody. “It looks like a house by that famous guy.”
“Frank Lloyd Wright,” Logan said. “I kept his style in mind when designing this.”
She liked the layers in Logan Kyllwood. It wasn’t so bad being carried against his hard torso, either.
An owl hooted in the far distance, and a coyote answered. Stars blinked high and bright in the sky, finally clear of clouds.
He walked over rough terrain to deposit her on a wide deck that appeared to wrap around the entire cabin. “Go inside while I retrieve the guns and money from the glove box.” Without waiting for her reply, he turned and strode back to the truck.
She hugged herself, trying to wake up. Dreams of Logan and mating had plagued her the entire journey. Why had he made that comment about mating? Turning, she nudged the door open and moved into the dark interior. Her body felt as if she’d been touched with a live wire from being shut up in the truck with him for so long.
He moved past her, grabbing a lantern from a table near the door and igniting it, his movements economical and sure. The mellow light revealed a comfortable space with oversize furniture and a rocky fireplace next to a kitchen complete with sparkling appliances and granite counters. Wide windows bracketed a sliding glass door that led out to a river bathed in moonlight. She drank in the beauty.
Logan moved to the fireplace and quickly had a crackling fire warming the room. “Are you hungry?”
She shook her head and moved toward the fire. “No.” They’d stopped for burgers hours ago, and the chocolate shake had done her in.
“Okay.” He pointed toward the two doorways, his impressive body looking big and broad in the dim light. “Bedroom and bathroom. I’ll go start the generator and scout the area. Get ready for bed.”
Bed. With Logan. Her stomach did that funny flip-flop thing it only did for him. But the constant ordering around had to stop. Or perhaps he was just as tired as she was, and he was conserving words. Demons didn’t seem to need as much sleep as most people—or maybe there just hadn’t been enough time for him to sleep. “Okay.” She stumbled toward the bathroom.
She freshened up and then found a worn black T-shirt in a drawer. The thin material hung past her thighs and smelled slightly of Logan. Then she sat on the overlarge bed, looking toward the window facing the river, shivering slightly.
The stubborn part of her considered making a break for it with the truck and trying to find her people, but she was just so damn tired. And she had no clue where she was or in which direction to run. And…she wasn’t sure she wanted to escape. While mating Logan was a crazy idea, at the very least, she wanted to end things amicably with him. Except for the over-the-top bossiness he exhibited once in a while, he was pretty likable.
Mating Niall would lead to a life of certainty, duty, safety, and probably some fun.
Mating Logan would lead to a life of excitement, uncertainty, danger, and probably some battles.
Neither idea made her particularly comfortable, but only one of them truly intrigued her. Yet Logan seemed determined to complete the ritual of the Seven, and only disaster could result. Either he wouldn’t live through the ritual, like ninety percent of the immortals who tried it, or he would survive and destroy the entire universe.
And he would not listen to her about it.
How could she even consider mating a male who wouldn’t listen to her? The more she thought about it, the more irritated she became. Dumb immortal males. All of the Seven were hybrids, she realized. Maybe combining demon and vampire DNA led to decreased intelligence. She snorted.
“What’s funny?” He moved into the room and kicked off his boots, placing his weapons on the lone pine dresser.
There was no doubt he wouldn’t appreciate her humor. “Nothing. We really should talk.”
He scrubbed a hand through his thick hair, his eyes so dark they were nearly black. His hands went to his belt and he unbuckled it, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet night. “Fine, but not about the Seven, war, or mating. I need sleep before tackling any of those.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it. The last thing she had the energy for right now was an argument. “Fine.” Moving past him, she pulled the heavy covers away from pristine white sheets and slid inside. She sighed. The thread count had to be only six hundred.
