Chapter 90
I shut the drawer with more force than necessary and forced myself back into motion.
There was a supply report to review, a proposal to revise, an office that wouldn’t manage itself. I threw myself into it like drowning in work might delay having to deal with my feelings.
But later that night, the stillness returned.
I sat at the edge of the sofa, bare feet resting against the cold floor The lamps were dimmed. My tablet was open beside me, bet t wasn’t reading. I was watching him.
Logan sat on the far end of the sitting room, hunched over his own tablet, the glow from the lamp tracing the edge of his profile. His shirt sleeves were rolled up. His brow furrowed.
And every so often, he’d glance toward the empty hallway, like he was checking to see if I’d disappeared again.
He didn’t know I was watching.
And that made it feel more intimate than the kiss, more raw than any argument we’d ever had.
I used to think Logan was the just harsh Alpha keen on getting revenge. But lately, I saw something else too. Catalogued his small habits.
It was the way he always poured his coffee second, even when he reached the pot first. How he waited at the end of the hall every time we arrived at an event, letting me step into the room ahead of him.
None of that was in the contract.
But the contract still existed. The boundaries hadn’t vanished just because our lips had met a couple of times.
No children.
That clause seemed like mercy when we signed. A shield. Neither of us wanted to be trapped, bound by obligation or biology.
I’d agreed without hesitation. Why would I want to bring a child into a life built on politics and lies? And why would be want an heir born from a dormant wolf?
But something shifted between us.
1
Watching him now, this man who knew how to hold still and let me lead, who had kissed me like that…I felt that childless clause settle like lead in my belly.
It wasn’t that I wanted children. Not exactly. I just hated knowing the choice had been made already.
That even if something changed between us, even if something real took root, I would never be allowed to want more.
And Logan hadn’t just said he didn’t want kids. He’d said “We won’t be having them.” Like it was already decided. Like it wasn’t something I might feel differently about, one day.
But I suppose the contract had and expiration date and we’d be free to conceive with whoever we each truly mated after that.
I ran a hand through my hair, unsettled by the ache creeping in. It was soft, but it was there, a kind of longing that starts small and grows slowly.
Logan shifted in the chair, sensing something. His eyes met mine across the room, but I didn’t look away fast enough.
He rose, crossing the space between us, and sat beside me on the couch.
I thought he would say something, but he just waited, like he was giving me the chance to lie or tell the truth. The intensity of his gaze made me a little nervous.
I turned toward him, choosing something in between.
“That kiss,” I said softly. “Do you regret it?”
His expression didn’t change, but his body went still.
“No,” he said. “Do you?”
I didn’t answer. Oh, I knew the answer, but I wasn’t sure I could survive the truth out loud. Because goddess help me, I didn’t regret it one bit.
And I knew that I should.
I settled slightly, letting our shoulders touch. And he didn’t move away. We sat like that, side by side, letting my silence fill the
space.
And all I could think was what happens if this becomes more than we planned? And what would it cost, if it already had?
