Logan's Choice (Dark Hollow Wolf Pack 3)

With the throb in his head at an unbearable level, he stretched out, his head on his arm on the cold, concrete floor. He tried to relax and get some rest. He didn’t know what lay ahead of him, but he knew it was bound to be unpleasant.

Ian awoke to the sound of the door opening. He sat up quickly, tense and ready for whatever was coming. His head still throbbed, and he felt empty and drained. A light snapped on, blinding Ian for the few seconds needed for his eyes to adjust to the glaring brightness. Two men stood in the doorway with guns trained on him.

One of them spoke. “Get on your feet, wolf. You’re coming with us. ”

Ian did as he was told, anxious to be out of the small squalid space. He was ready for whatever was going to be his fate to go ahead and happen. He hated the waiting. As he passed the guards, one of them shoved him out into the corridor. A low growl escaped his lips, but he controlled his wolf. If much more stress was put on him, he might not be able to control it much longer.

They directed him down the corridor to a room at the end. As he stepped inside, he saw a doctor’s examination table, covered with a white sheet. The guards pushed him toward it. “Get up on the table. We’re going to strap you down. Don’t give us any trouble or we’ll shoot. ”

Ian turned and gave them a narrow look. No one was going to strap him down. He tensed, as his wolf come close to the surface. From behind the guards, a new voice spoke up, one that was very familiar.

“Cooperate with them. They will shoot. No one is going to hurt you. I promise. ” Logan stepped from behind the guards, looking calm and collected. He wore clean clothes of his own, army camo again, and his hair was neatly combed. He nodded at Ian, and spoke to the guards. “Lower your weapons. He’s not going to hurt anyone. Are you, Ian?”

He said the name with what sounded to Ian like a stabbing twist, and was that a slight sneering lift of his lip? Ian said nothing, staring at Logan, so happy to see him

looking well, yet devastated this might mean he had been in on this thing all along.

“That depends, Logan,” he said, his voice sounding harsh even to his own ears. “What are you planning to do?”

“See to your wounds, for one thing, and then the doctor wants to take a sample of your blood. My father’s idea. He wants to lessen my dependence on you by coming up with a synthetic substitute for wolf’s blood. I probably need to feed again. It’s been several days now,if you’ll allow it. Even if you won’t. The doctor can take the blood from you, but it would be easier if you cooperated. ”

His voice was so cool, so indifferent and calm. Logan looked at Ian as if there had never been anything between them. As if he barely knew him. A sudden weakness swept over Ian, and he found he really didn’t care much what happened anymore. He’d been betrayed and made a fool of by this man, this human—his Hunter, his lover. Ian had never been anything more to Logan than a monster. Everything he’d ever said had been a lie. All the questions he’d asked weren’t with the innocent curiosity Ian had taken them for. Even the mating bond hadn’t been strong enough to wipe out his hate.

Ian turned without a word and stretched on the table. The guards stepped up beside him and strapped him down. Logan stood watching with an unreadable look on his face. Was he happy to see him tied and helpless as he had been when they captured him? Would he make him suffer for what had passed between them?

A man in a lab coat came into the room and over to the table. He examined the wounds on Ian’s head and neck, murmured about infection and began to clean them. The pain was bad, but Ian remained stoic and showed nothing.

“I’ll have to put stitches in this one. ” He looked up at Logan with a questioning look on his face. “I’m not sure why I’m wasting my time doing this. ”

“Because I told you to. ”

He shrugged slightly, turned back to his cabinets, and took out a hypodermic needle. After swabbing an area with alcohol, he quickly shot something into the wound on Ian’s head, causing him to clamp his jaw and clench his hands. When the doctor rolled his head for a better angle, Ian saw Logan staring at him, looking directly into his eyes. He still couldn’t read any expression, but he figured Logan was happy to see him in pain. He closed his eyes, refusing to look at him.

Throughout the next fifteen or twenty minutes, they stitched his wound, cleaned the others and took a sample of his blood, a full pint. He kept his eyes closed. He couldn’t stand to look at Logan again.

Only when Logan spoke to him did he reluctantly open them again. “I’m going to feed. The doctor will make a small incision on your arm. Just relax. ”

A moment of bright pain was followed by the sweet feel of Logan’s lips on his skin. Logan looked down at his dark hair, streaked with lighter shades of brown. He wanted to caress his cheek, to hold him in his arms once more, but he knew that was over. Logan’s eyes fluttered open, and his beautiful eyes sparkled at him. Pain clutched at Ian, and he had to close his eyes again.

Logan finished and told the guards to release Ian so he could stop the bleeding on his wrist. Ian sat up on the table and brought his wrist to his mouth, thinking how Logan’s lips had been there seconds before. He licked at it a few times to stop the bleeding, and stood, swaying a bit.

“When did he eat last?” Logan asked the guards. Ian gave a short bark of bitter laughter, and Logan turned his gaze back to the guards. “Feed him at once, idiots. He won’t be of any use to me if he dies of hunger. ” He gave Ian a strange look as he swept out the door, the doctor trailing behind him.

The guards took him back to the same cell, but they left the lights on. In a few minutes they brought back a big plate of some kind of stew and a huge chunk of bread. They threw in a blanket, too, and brought fresh water. Ian was so weak after he ate, he had to lie down. He closed his eyes and thought about Logan for the few minutes he had until the weakness took him under.

The next day, spent in the locked room, only seeing the guards when they brought his food, Ian tried not to think about Logan. The anguish of his betrayal was too great. He wondered again about Marco and Casey and cursed himself for not asking Logan about them. The guards opened the door, but didn’t speak to him, just slid his food inside and quickly locked the door behind them.

The next day they put something in his food. He could tell by the smell and didn’t care. He spent most of the following days sleeping. Two days later the guards came to take him out of the room again. He was taken into a small interrogation room a few doors down. Inside, sitting at a table, was an older man with very short white hair and Logan.

Both men were expressionless, though Logan’s eyebrows raised slightly when he caught his first sight of Ian. His gaze moved up and down his body as if taking stock of his condition. Ian knew he was filthy, bruised, and his clothes were in rags. He could only imagine how he must look. No doubt as bad as Logan had looked the first time he saw him.

The guards pushed him into a chair at the opposite end of the table and securely tethered his arms and wrists behind him, tying them tightly to the metal rails of the chair. Elias Winters got to his feet and walked around to him. The blow, when it came, was sudden. Ian didn’t have time to brace for it. Elias struck him with his fist, in the middle of the stitches on the side of his head. The pain was stunning. Logan was on his feet in seconds, pulling his father away.

“What are you doing?” Logan pulled his father’s arm around and pushed him away from Ian.

“What I’ve wanted to do since I first heard what this filthy bastarddid to you!” Elias’ chest heaved with emotion, and he pushed back against Logan, to strike Ian again. Logan put both hands on his father’s chest and pushed him hard enough that he hit the wall behind him.

“Enough, damn it! Leave him alone!”