Page 83 of Chaos At Second Sight

“The bedrooms are up here,” he said as we climbed a spiral staircase. “It’s quieter.”

He pushed open a door, flicking on the light.

“So…” I looked around. “This is your room.”

“Yeah. I cleaned up.” His ears reddened. “Just don’t open the closet.”

I chuckled, circling the room.

A humongous bed dominated the space, custom-sized by its look—Aunt Elena had ordered one like that for Archie. I imagined Logan lying there, texting or chatting with me for weeks, and I smiled. A desk sat under the south-facing window, a nightstand bore deep scratches, and the forbidden closet was next to that.

“The bathroom’s there.”

I followed his gesture and my breath caught. An almost naked cowgirl smiled down at me from a calendar on the wall.

“I know it’s not, um, decorated. I don’t spend much time—” He followed my gaze. “I’m going to dismember them.” Logan crossed the room and cupped my face. “I swear that’s not mine. One of the mutts put it there.”

Relief washed over me and I giggled, his worried face priceless. “I believe you.”

When Logan went to the bathroom, I itched to peek through the papers and notebooks piled on his desk when a photo drew me in. It was of Logan carrying Trix piggyback, younger and more innocent, with L+T against the packs scrawled underneath it.

Another on his nightstand had the siblings flanking their father, their colors a contrast. The man was not blond and didn’t have silver eyes. A third showed Logan, Killian, and Callum on a beach, sunburnt, tattoo-free, and laughing so hard as they leaned on each other.

No sign of another female presence in his life…until I spotted a poster on the bedroom door.

Big. That was my first thought. I couldn’t hug it with both of my arms.

It was a screenshot of me from one of our video calls, complete with the date, time, and Wi-Fi icon.

I wanted to strangle myself there. My tongue was sticking out and green from matcha, my hair looking like a horrible bush on top of my head, and—I gasped. There was a pimple on my chin. Crap.

Two arms snuck around my waist, and a chin settled on my shoulder. I was too busy glaring at my poster, hoping my gaze would burn it, that I hadn’t heard him approach.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” His whisper was laced in laughter.

“If by gorgeous you mean filthy, she is.” I was irritated and happy at the same time, a common state of feeling with my mate. “Did you have to print this one?” I turned in his arms, tilting my neck back several degrees.

“Like you don’t have a secret poster of me in your room.”

I squinted at him. “How do you know that?”

Logan lifted a brow, a mind-numbing grin cracking his lips. “Ah-ha! You really have one?” He leaned in, our noses touching. “Can’t wait to see it.”

I whined.

“Am I bare-chested?”

I shielded my eyes.

“Knew it.”

“Stop it!”

He took my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles, silver eyes holding mine. “We’re mates. Soulmates.” As if that made things right. But somehow, it did, my embarrassment melting away.

“I adore that picture. You weren’t posing or anything; you were just talking to me.” His lips left a trail along my neck, mapping familiar paths. A faint scrape of canines brushed the mark spot.

“Please mark us,” Zelda purred.