Logan had a terrible tenseness in his body, his stomach turning with anxiety and frustration, sharp features clouded with uneasiness in the breaking daylight. He worked off his excess energy by pacing barefoot holes in the floor with strong purposeful strides, fists and jaw clenched. He was suddenly anxious to escape from the confines of the garish mansion. The walls nothing but a fancy cage.
Sleep had rightfully eluded him. Flashes of Marie writhing, her willing body tangled in his sheets, the sound of his name on her parted, breathless lips in the moonlight as she arched to meet him in the dark staggering his senses. And how she had turned… Just turned. Like a tiger that one day goes from playfully romping around with it’s trainer to mauling him. And just as beautiful. And just as fucking deadly.
Logan braced himself against his mangled dresser, bristly hair sticking out in every direction, ignoring the hazards of the glass as he took in his shattered reflection. Once again, Marie’d left him in pieces.
He bared his teeth, the broad muscles of his golden shoulders straining against his rage as his fingers bit deep into the wood, cracking and splintering beneath his immortal hands. If there was any kind of an animal inside of her it was his doing. His knuckles ached against the urge to grow claws, the scent of her arousal still hanging in the air around him like a nice kick in the nuts souvenir.
The Wolverine’s eyes fell on his Zippo, scattered amongst the wreckage, narrowing as the sun spilled in through breezy curtains and shed light on a dark truth. You play with fire…
But that was just like him. To barrel past all the warning signs with a smile and a fuck you, not caring what it meant for everybody else.
But not this time…
Logan reached for his duffel.