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Logan shoots to his feet and begins pacing the carpet. “My father was right when he said I’m just like him. I want this, Vera. I crave to take you while you’re just there, lying in bed oblivious to what’s going on. I want to feel your warm, limp body tremble as I slide into you. I can’t think of anything else.”
His admission should scare me, but it doesn’t. All I want is for him to finally find himself with me. I want him to try this, to give it a chance, because if he doesn’t, I know he’ll do the one thing he’s been thinking about—push me away.
My chest tightens when I think about it. When I consider walking away from him, my lungs struggle to pull in air, and my heart clenches so painfully I can’t fathom my life. Perhaps it’s stupid to think I can fix him, and maybe, in all honesty, I don’t want to.
“I want that,” I tell him honestly. I pray he can see the admission in my eyes. I wait for him to look at me, and when he does, I keep my gaze locked on his. The need for him to see my truth is running rampant through me. “Don’t let him win, Logan. Your father was trying to get in your head. You’re nothing like him.”
“I need time.” He turns, heading for the door, but before he leaves, he glances at me from over his shoulder. “Don’t leave the apartment. You’re staying inside safely until I get back. I need to clear my head.” And then he’s gone, leaving me with the bottle of melatonin. I’ve had these before. A sleep aid, and when my doctor advised these were better than getting something that would be addictive, I always kept a bottle in my medicine cabinet. One or two when I couldn’t sleep always helped, but this time, it’s different. This isn’t insomnia I’m fighting—it’s the man I’ve fallen for.
Pushing off the bed, I head into the rest of the apartment to explore. The furnishings are beautiful, classic, yet modern and tasteful at the same time. It’s nothing like my small apartment, but it feels like home, nonetheless.
Three closed doors are waiting for me down the hall. The first one is the bathroom. The second one, which opens when I twist the handle, is an office. The desk is dark wood, with a large black leather chair behind it.
I notice a laptop sitting on the desk, which I quickly make my way to. If I can log into my email, perhaps I can find out how my father is doing. It’s been months since I was allowed to call him, since he told the guards he didn’t want any communication. Sadly, I let it be when I should’ve fought his choice.
When I lift the lid of the computer, I find it opens to a password screen, which has me cursing out loud. What could his password be?
I sit for a moment, thinking back on the time I’ve known Logan. The only thing I can think it could possibly be is his screen name—Broken Prince—which I try, and it easily logs me into his computer.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I open the browser and get to work logging into my mail account and getting a message to my father. If he knows I’m back in the city, perhaps he can call off Herbert and that stupid contract he signed.
I want to be with Logan, and I know he wants me too. He just needs time to come to terms with his wants and needs. I can’t help but smile because I’m the younger of us two, and it seems I’ve accepted my desires before Logan could ever fathom what his were.
Society forces us to hide who we are. If you’re not a sheep following the herd, you’re shunned, and that causes people to tamp down the feelings that come naturally to them. Shaming someone for a kink, as long as it’s legal, is something that’s always bothered me.
And now I have to wait until Logan accepts who he really is.
And he also needs to come to terms with the fact that even though he may not be normal in the eyes of society, I love him.
And I’m not leaving him.
30
Logan
The room is icy cold, the fire no longer dancing in the darkness. I watch him for a long while before I move closer. My father, the man I grew up equally fearing and looking up to, is no longer the same person. He’s become a monster, demented and dangerous.
“So, you really think happiness is in the cards for you and the little beauty?” he questions as I train the gun on him. The barrel aimed at his forehead. One shot would kill him. The bullet would hit him right between the eyes.
