Page 93 of Betrothed in Fury
“Come on,” he says. “We have a lot to do, and you’ll have plenty of time to regret this wedding later, just like most married couples.”
His playfulness cuts through this unbearable tension. Not quieting it entirely, but giving me enough release to make the pressure tolerable. I push all this noise aside in my head, and weget to work on the many other obligations that must be settled before the ceremony tonight.
I’m heading through the yard with Cheryl, the event coordinator, when I notice someone moving inside the greenhouse. It gives me a shock until I see it’s Logan, pacing. I imagine he went there for the same reason I usually do—privacy.
“Rage, would you mind walking Cheryl through the rest of the property? I want to grab Logan.”
“Sure thing.”
I enter the greenhouse. Logan stands on the opposite side, at the fountain, watching my birds bathing. He’s dressed in his tux, looking as dapper as ever. As if he’s in a daze, he doesn’t seem to hear me enter. It’s only when I’m a few feet away that he whispers, “I knew it was you.”
That probably shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but I can’t help appreciating that he anticipated me coming for him.
“I could smell your cologne and that sexy-as-hell musk, like wood and a hint of whiskey.”
“You know it’s bad luck to see the bride in her dress before the big day.”
He pulls his gaze from the fountain. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m not wearing a dress,” he says playfully. As he turns to me, he smirks, but I see the sadness too.
It pains me, physically injures me like a knife carving into my chest. Because just like he knew it was me approaching, I’m certain I know what he’s thinking about, what I can’t push from my mind—this awareness of what he grieves. A life…a love he’ll never know. Because of me.
“You know we have about an hour until the event?” I say, and he nods.
“Yeah. I wanted to visit the other birds you’ve captured.”
Again, it’s a joke, but I hear the weight of what he’s saying. And like when we fucked at the Recourse, I want to bring himrelief. “Would you like to meet Willie?” I ask, which makes him wince. I approach the fountain and reach out, making a clicking sound the way I would when I first took him in. The little finch eagerly gets in my hand, poking around. “The greedy bastard’s looking for seeds,” I say, but I don’t want to leave him without any, so I head over to a feeder and grab a few, sprinkling them into my palm.
Logan stays close by my side, and I offer him some seeds, setting them in his palm.
“Found him on the property, two years ago, after he was attacked by a fox. He barely escaped, and that gave me time to scare the fox off before taking him in.”
“You rescued him?”
“I’ve rescued all my birds. Something I started to do in my early twenties, can’t really say why.”
“How did you manage to keep this from me for so long?”
“We’re just getting to know each other, aren’t we? Here, hold your hand up, and let’s see if he will meet you.” We put our hands together. “Come on, Willie. Say hey to your new daddy.”
As though I’d planned it out with him to impress Logan, he flaps his wings and jumps over to Logan’s hand.
Logan’s smile expands as Willie nibbles away at the seeds. “Can I pet him?”
“Be very gentle, not that I think you wouldn’t be.”
He places his finger against Willie’s neck, moving gently down. I’m surprised by how Willie stays perfectly still, allowing Logan to stroke him. The light in Logan’s eyes has returned, and I can’t help but think that I’m not worthy of this incredible man. Beautiful, passionate, caring, thoughtful… All those things that first nudged at me, all those things that made me want to make him mine. All the things I’m going to adore now that he’s my husband.
“So Killian Lorde, bird rescuer?” he asks, his gaze locking with mine. “Maybe this dark image you have as a psychopath without feeling is overstated.”
As he says it, a darkness moves within me. One that knows better. “I wish I could say it was a noble impulse, but I must admit, I like when they get injured and I’m able to rescue them.”
Logan’s smile shifts to concern, and once again, I find myself in the position where I think I might have been better off if I’d kept that sort of thought to myself.
“Then they can be your victims?”
“I just… Once I meet them, I get very attached, and I want to possess them.”
“Why?” he presses.
