Page 58 of Logan’s Acadian Wolves

In the meantime, he resolved to focus on the pack. Convulsing in rage over Wynter’s departure had hurt them. Every wolf would have felt his anger, wondering what had caused his virulent excitation. They’d stress, which was the very last thing the pack needed. After the long months of mourning Marcel and enduring the uncertainty of who’d lead them, he’d finally established peace. Today, though, his temper threatened the sanctity he’d worked so hard to create.

The hot spray of the shower had allowed him time to meditate, bringing a sense of balance and stoicism to his thoughts. The solace of his newfound impassivity clarified his strategy. He and Wynter simply could not continue down a path of misunderstandings. There was no other choice. When they got to the bayou, Wynter would learn to submit, learn the way of the wolves. He’d teach her lessons, not just in acquiescence but the importance of her role within the pack. Whether she liked it or not, he fully anticipated her wolf would emerge at the full moon. He’d prepare her for their new life together. As the Alpha’s mate, the pack would look to her for guidance, direction. But in order for her to fulfill her role, she must accept him as Alpha and her own transformation.

Her footsteps at the door excited his wolf, but he refused him access. Now was not the time. Dana’s funeral started within the hour, and his calming presence was required. Logan planned to do nothing less for his pack, even if that meant isolating Wynter. The rumination over the quandary would wait. For at least a few hours, he planned to ignore her, focus all of his attention on Fiona and the pack. It was the least he could do.

Wynter’s heart caught in her throat, seeing her magnificent Alpha at the mirror. Incredibly handsome didn’t begin to describe how she saw him. Black pinstripes ran the length of his long legs. His trousers hung easily on his tapered waist, hugging over his bottom, a crisp white dress shirt tucked into them. She watched as he knotted his tie, never losing focus from his task.

“Logan,” Wynter called tenderly.

“The funeral’s at six. Dimitri and Jake will take you. Once you get there, stay with Jake,” he explained coldly. He turned, took his suit jacket off a hanger and dressed.

“We need to talk,” she pleaded, walking toward him. The need to touch him overwhelmed her.

Logan adjusted his collar, giving himself one last look in the mirror, never seeking eye contact. He ignored her request and sought to leave the room.

“You’ll need to pack your things. You can use the bag I left you in the closet. We’re leaving immediately after the burial.”

As Logan passed by, Wynter grabbed onto his sleeve, pressing her forehead into his chest. God, he smelled so good. She wanted to apologize, ask for forgiveness, but also talk to him about being his mate. There were too many questions. She needed him to quell her fears, confirm he still cared.

“Please, Logan. Don’t do this,” she whispered.

Logan tugged his arm from her grasp, calmly backing away. Indifference washed over his face. No longer was the lover present, but the leader; the Alpha commanded the room.

“Get dressed. You have forty-five minutes,” he said, looking at his watch.

“Jesus, Logan. Come on,” she felt her voice escalate. “I need to talk to you.”

“Right now, Wynter, this is not about you. Or me. There is a woman, a wolf. My wolf,” he stressed in his dominant tone that told her he was all business. “She’s dead. My pack needs me. They need me strong, whole and calm. I can’t do that when I’m with you. Not now.”

Wynter hung her head and closed her eyes. She wished she could hide her face from him entirely. His withdrawal was too much to bear. She bit her lip; the pain was a welcome distraction from the suffocation blanketing her crushed heart.

Logan could sense her pain as clear as if it were his own. He wanted to take her into his arms, tell her they’d work it out, and then make love to her all night long. Gathering every ounce of willpower he had, Logan turned and walked out the door. After the funeral, she’d be his, he promised himself. Until then, the pack held his full attention.

As Logan walked out the door, Wynter allowed the tears to flow. As if swept into a storm, she no longer knew which direction she was traveling. Having lost her only life preserver, she struggled to keep her head above the swelling waves, yet it wasn’t enough. She stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower, allowing the cold water to pelt her skin. She slid down the wall, until her bottom hit the floor and she crawled into a ball, sobbing, wishing she had never heard of wolves.

“What’s up?” Dimitri nodded to Logan, handing him an umbrella.

“Good, here comes Jake,” Logan responded, not answering Dimitri directly.

Jake slid open the door and shook the rain off his head.

“Hey,” he greeted. “Nothing like a rainy funeral in the dark. Good stuff.”

“Yeah, I don’t expect many of us to shift if this rain keeps up,” Dimitri added.

“Alpha, you okay?” Jake asked with genuine concern. The anger rolling through the pack earlier had rocked them hard.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Logan lied. “I should be asking how you’re doing. You took a hard one out there last night.”

“Good to go. Thanks to you,” he nodded. “Hurt like a motherfucker. Stayed wolf all last night, though, just to be sure I was okay.”

“I’m gonna walk over to Fiona’s and meet the girls there,” Logan told them.

Dimitri cocked an eyebrow at Logan. “Hey man, let me preface this by ‘I’m not tellin’ you what to do’.”

“But you’re going to anyway? Let’s hear it.”

“That’s what your beta is for.” Dimitri clapped his hand on his shoulder. “First, it’s raining cats and dogs. You could just take the car with us. Second, you think it’s a good idea to be around the girls without Wynter? I mean, this mating thing doesn’t seem to be going so smoothly for either one of you and I’d hate to…”