Page 13 of Shadow of Fury

His wolf bristled at the accusation and his head snapped back around instinctively, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Her face was twisted with fury but gods, she was beautiful.

“I’m leaving for your own good, Wren.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“You ran away after Lark’s funeral too.” She raised a sharp eyebrow, “Was that for my own good, too?”

“No. That was…” He frowned, scrubbed a hand over his face, “I had to go. I couldn’t stay. Not after what happened.”

“Maybe if you’d thought about what was good for Lark, she’d still be alive.”

He swallowed past the lump in his throat her words caused. She stared at him when he remained silent. He couldn’t answer her but she didn’t know that.

She clearly blamed him for Lark’s death, and he didn’t mind. He blamed himself too. She looked at him like he was the lowest lifeform she’d ever encountered. Despite the tug of the bond that had sparked between them, she wasn’t running even though that should have been her first instinct if she hated him as much as he thought she did. Instead, she was holding her ground and he knew why.

She had questions.

Logan grit his teeth to force the words out, “I can’t give you what you want.”

“What the hell makes you think you know what I want?” Wren snarled, moving fast, closing the distance between them to shove him again.

He stepped aside, avoiding letting her touch him again, not trusting his animal instinct. Despite everything he knew, he wanted her touch. He welcomed it. But he couldn’t have it.

She wasn’t his mate. No matter what fate was up to, Wren couldn’t be his mate. Lark had been his other half and fate didn’t give second chances. He’d lost his chance at a fated mate and even if he’d hoped that someday, maybe, he’d find someone to ease some of his pain and be a companion in his life, he never, ever, could have imagined a pairing as cruel as being bound to Lark’s little sister.

“You want answers about what happened to Lark but I don’t have any for you and I’m more sorry for that than you’ll ever know.”

Wren whirled on him, “I don’t want your excuses and we both know that’s all you have. Besides, I wouldn’t believe anything you said anyway. You’re a liar.”

He couldn’t argue with her so he shrugged, “So what do you want? Because I know it’s not being bound to me as a mate.”

“I am not your mate.” Her eyes flashed gold, her wolf belying the words. “I don’t know what’s going on here but I am not your mate. I’ll never be your mate. I’d rather die than be mated to you.”

“Don’t say that.” He winced, her words striking too close to past wounds.

Her dark eyes went wide, nearly manic, and she huffed out an unamused laugh, “Is that what Lark chose? Death over being mated to you? Is that why you killed her?”

The accusation felt like a punch in the teeth and he barely contained his wolf’s angry response, “What? No. I loved Lark.”

“Yet here we are…” She motioned between them, and Logan growled, losing his tenuous grip on his temper.

“You think I want this any more than you do? I don’t. I loved Lark. She was supposed to be my mate. Not you. It was never supposed to be you. This spark, the bond, whatever the hell it is? This is just fate’s cruel joke, as if giving me you would somehow replace what I lost.”

“Being mated to you wouldn’t be a joke. It would be a punishment.” Wren snarled back at him, moving closer. “I hate you.”

“Good.” he snapped close to her face, “You can join the club because I hate me too.”

“Well at least we have that in common.” Wren’s eyes flared gold as she spit her anger at him but Logan’s wolf was too close to the surface, too raw and irrational, and he lunged for her.

In the blink of an eye Logan’s hand was at her throat. He pressed her against the brick wall and his mouth was suddenly on hers. The kiss was wild and out of control. The fury between them was a living, breathing fire and their lips stoked it higher and higher as they crashed together. It wasn’t sweet or even nice. It was full of hate and anger and a longing as vast and deep as the galaxy itself.

He didn’t understand it. He didn’t think he would ever understand it. But he felt the bond between them, throbbing as surely as his heart thumped in his chest.

His wolf all but purred when the taste of her spread through him. She was warm cinnamon, his favorite, as if she’d been made with him in mind. It had been so long since he’d felt this close to someone, anyone, and even though it was all wrong, it felt strangely right.