I wandered aimlessly, not seeing the street signs I passed, but eventually buildings looked familiar. People filled the streets, looking at me askance as I staggered along. My brain clicked slowly, the world moving past in flickers and flashes instead of a rolling film. I couldn't stop the trembling that wracked me from head to toe. Nothing worked right.
The sign for O'Shea's drew me in, dragged me across a street and through traffic. I didn't hear the honking. I hit the door and almost crashed into Rafe, lurking near the door. He caught me by the shoulders, expression strange. "Nat. What's —" His head tilted and he inhaled deeply near me, then held me at arm's length to study me. He pulled at the collar of my shirt, exposing my neck and shoulder, and I tried to push him away. Rafe made a strange sound in his throat, then turned and walked me into the bar. He steered me to a stool at the very end, nearest the office he shared with Ruby. He poured whiskey into a glass, three or four shots worth, and put it in front of me. "Down the hatch."
"I don't think that's —" My voice came out all wobbly and uncertain, and his frown deepened.
"You look like someone just walked over your grave. Put it down, Nat."
So I did, and the whiskey landed like a rock in my stomach. A warm, sloshy rock. It took the edge off... whatever it was I felt. For a moment, a hysterical giggle fought to escape my throat and I gripped the edge of the bar, holding on to it and my sanity by the tips of my fingers alone. Rafe splashed more amber liquid into the glass. "Again."
"I haven't eaten all day, Rafe."
"Good." His gaze moved past me, to the door, and I froze. Terrified. Thinking a demon lion would burst through the door and murder me. He looked back at me, and his head tilted in a decidedly nonhuman fashion. "You're safe here, Nat. Believe me."
"I d-don't know what you're talking about."
The next shot of whiskey seemed less like a bad idea, more like stress management. Seeing a lion turn into a man — and a man I'd been kissing only minutes before — deserved a bit of liquid courage.
Rafe waved away a friend who tried to get his attention, and leaned forward with his elbows on the bar. His voice lowered, a shared secret. "You smell a lot like Logan Chase. Did he do something to you, Nat?"
"He saved me," I said to the glass of whiskey, trying to hide the words in the fragrant liquor that stung my nostrils. "And then he — he — turned into something terrible. Something horrible."
"What did he turn into?"
"You won't believe me." I laughed, surprised at how much it hurt to admit. "Because it isn't possible."
"I will. And it is."
I lifted my gaze to his, surprised that his normally gray eyes were suddenly almost gold. For one crazy moment, I decided to believe him. To trust him. The words slipped out before I could change my mind. "He turned into a lion. Killed the man who attacked me. And turned back into a man."
I waited for the laughter or the call to the loony bin. A 72-hour hold at City General. Instead, Rafe nodded, gave me a bigger drink, and said, "I'll call Ruby. Just stay here."
So I sat and nursed the drink, though I wanted to pound the entire bottle until it dulled the pain and fear. All the promise of that relationship with Logan disappeared in a flash. In less than a heartbeat. Imagine — turning into a lion.
My forehead connected to the bar with a thud. The shivers didn't shop jostling me on the stool. I couldn't control as my fingers trembled around the glass. I didn't even have my purse. It still sat in the soup kitchen. Ruby didn't ask me any questions when she appeared in front of me, instead only holding my hands between hers to try to warm the chill from them. It didn't work, but it helped me feel less alone in the world.
Yet Rafe hadn't been particularly surprised by what I said. And he thought I smelled like Logan. We'd been spending a lot of time together, sure, but it wasn't like I used his detergent or wore his cologne or anything. I looked at my friend, desperate for other reassurances. "Am I crazy?"
"No, babe." The silver ring spun in her lip as she worried it with her tongue, a nervous habit when she was very angry or very upset. She rubbed my shoulder, leaning on the bar very much like her brother. "It's just a bit of a shock."
"He turned into a lion," I whispered, to make sure she knew the kind of crazy she dealt with. This wasn't the garden variety hallucination. This was semi-pro. Maybe Olympic quality.
She took a deep breath, then nodded. "I know. Rafe told me." She picked up my hands again, studied my fingers and then my wrists. "I haven't seen you in a couple of days. Can you go back and tell me what happened?"
It took forever to unravel the past few days in my mind, trying to rewind to the last time I'd seen her through the blur of so many hours of what I'd thought was happiness. I fumbled the glass, feeling uncoordinated and disjointed. "Joey attacked me at the restaurant... ten, twelve days ago? Logan's brothers saved me. Logan saved me. He protected me, took me home, took care of me. Asked me to live with him."
She concentrated on wiping another glass clean, the spotless white towel working the same part of the glass over and over and over again. Her voice remained carefully neutral. "Seems awful fast, Nat."
"I know." I stared at the lines of liquor bottles behind her. "Really fast. But it felt right. It felt good. I felt safe with him, protected. We were looking for an apartment, and I took a few days off work to recover from what Joey — did. Logan came with me to help tonight at the soup kitchen. I took out the trash, and Joey was there. He attacked me again and then —" I cut off, struggled to breathe. She pressed the full glass of whiskey into my hand, and I gulped it down mechanically. It eased the words from around the lump in my throat. "The door was locked but Logan went through it. He flew through it, but he was a lion. An enormous fucking lion. He — I think he killed Joey, I don't know. He just lay there. And then Logan stood up where the lion used to be, and he was naked, and he said he wanted to explain."
"Did he? Explain?" Still quiet and reserved, as if I hadn't just told her my sort-of boyfriend turned into a lion.
I looked at her blankly. "I ran. Are you kidding? I fucking ran. What is there to explain? He's a monster. Or a total prick, if this is some kind of joke."
"I don't think it's a joke, Nat." Ruby returned to cleaning her glass, watching it instead of me. "You should let him explain. Make a decision after you've had a chance to calm down, hear what he has to say."
"What could he possibly say?" The words exploded out of me as I stared at her in disbelief. "What is there to possibly say?"
She shrugged, tipped a little more liquor into my glass, and then canted her head at the swinging door to the kitchen. "I'll grab you some snacks, Nat. Rafe said you hadn't eaten."
She fiddled with her phone as she walked away, and I rested my forehead against my arms on the bar. Un-fucking-believable.
The whiskey softened the world, eased the panic, stole away the fear until I leaned against the bar and tried desperately just to stay upright. I wanted to go home and sleep, to wake up from all of this and realize that everything had been a dream — every bit of it, from the night I met Logan to the moment he killed Joey. I just prayed he would leave me alone. Nothing else about him said half-measures were possible, but he'd been respectful enough to that point that I hoped a simple "get the fuck out of my life" would suffice. If not — well. I could hide somewhere. Run away. Until I had to go to work and he was there.
I closed my eyes and put my face in my hands. God help me.
A warm hand landed on my shoulder, and I knew it a flash it was Logan. I didn't even have to look to know it was him by the way he displaced air, how power and strength filled the room when he entered it. I cleared my throat and managed to say, "Are you going to kill me now?"
A long pause. Then something like a sigh. "I could. But then who would make me soufflé when I want it?"
He was teasing me, and this wasn't a joking matter. I lifted myself up enough to push the glass of whiskey, magically full again, away, and glared at him. "I wish I'd never met you."
The world swirled and wobbled around me, and time skipped. It might have been an hour or only a deep breath before he said, voice low and pained, "Don't say that. Don't ever say that. Please."
Tears burned my eyes and I didn't know why. Because I was afraid or sad or tired or just disappointed, because he'd been so perfect, so wonderful, and it was all a facade. He was just another lying douchebag. His secrets were even worse than the normal douchebags, who were only married or had kids or used drugs.
"Please don't cry." Logan's voice broke and then he moved, crushed me against his chest. "Don't ever cry because of me."
"I want you to leave," I said, choking on the words. "I want you to go away."
"Let me explain," he said. His cheek rubbed the top of my head, and he pulled me closer. "Give me a chance to explain."
"Let her go."
The deep voice hit me like a bucket of cold water. Rafe. I looked up and tried to focus as he doubled and then tripled in my vision. But Ruby and her brother both stood there, facing off with Logan. And Logan somehow expanded, that rumble in his chest again but not cute and warm like when he did it around me. This was threatening. Rafe didn't blink, pointing at the stool I'd occupied. "Put her down, feline."
"You don't get to order me around, Rafe." Logan still held me securely, didn't seem inclined to release me, and from the corner of my eye I saw a blurry figure that could have been Edgar. "She's mine."
"She was ours first," Ruby said. Folded her arms over her chest. "And this is our den, and it's full of pack tonight, so you and your friend probably won't make it out without a few scars. Put her back on that stool and take your own. If you want to explain something, do it here — but touch her again and I'll put you in the hospital."
Logan growled; there was no other word for it, though snarl would have worked. He put me back on the stool and occupied the one next to me, but he wasn't happy about it. Ruby scowled at him, still cleaning her glass, and pointed at me. "Start explaining."
Another snarl. He took my hand, laced our fingers together. When I looked at him, his eyes shone gold, lit from within. My heart stopped, because they were the lion's eyes, staring at me. Consuming me.