“Oh god,” Vera whimpers suddenly as her eyes flick open, and they lock on mine. Her body shaking with the orgasm, I’ve just coaxed from her. “Logan?”
“My Sleeping Beauty,” I mumble down at her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”
“I . . . That was amazing,” she whispers, her hands coming up to cup my face. The gentle touch sending me spiraling into darkness. “Where are we?” she questions, realizing the walls are no longer wooden logs, and the light shimmering through the window is slightly different from being out in the middle of the forest.
“My father found us, found you,” I tell her, not moving. Needing her closeness to focus on my confession. “He drugged you. You’ve been in an induced coma for three days.”
“What?” Her mouth falls open in shock. “Where are we?”
“In Chicago,” I inform her. “I’m here to take the asshole down. What he did to you was taking my feud with him too far.” I reach for her face, trailing my knuckles along her cheek. The softness forcing the monster back into hiding. “I’ll never let him near you again.”
“I trust you,” Vera whispers.
“You shouldn’t.”
“You could’ve hurt me, but you didn’t. You could’ve done so much worse,” she murmurs, looking directly into my eyes as the guilt slowly seeps its way through my veins.
“He was right.”
“Who?”
“My father,” I tell her. “He told me I’m broken. That I’m a monster, and he was right. I couldn’t resist the pull of your beautiful sleeping body. I craved to touch it, to use it for my pleasure.” My voice cracks on the last words. Pain is evident in them, and I know Vera heard it because she’s shaking her head.
She may try to disagree, but I know it’s true.
I am a monster.
I’m certainly not the prince she needs.
I’m the dragon she needs to slay.
29
Vera
He won’t believe me. I know he won’t. I can see the resolution in his eyes. Being so torn and broken is something I can understand. But he can’t push me away because we are made for each other. I’m convinced of it.
“I want you to do something for me,” I tell him, keeping my voice steady. I push off the bed and make my way through the apartment. Finding my way into the bathroom, I don’t bother stopping to take in the beauty of my surroundings. I’m on a mission, and it’s something I need to do before I know Logan will believe me.
I read something online about Logan’s affliction. A while ago, while searching for ways to find pleasure in my desires, I stumbled upon a website that spoke of kinks that most people balk at. It’s where I found my solace, knowing I wasn’t alone.
I open cabinets, shutting them again when I don’t find what I want or need. Logan’s fierce demeanor shrouds the space when he stops at the door, his face a picture of confusion and worry.
“What are you doing, Vera?”
“Looking for something,” I tell him without glancing at the man I know will have a fit if he knows what my plan is. On the website I’d found so long ago, I read about a man and his wife who were in our predicament.
The wife wanted to role-play a scene of force. The man, on the other hand, enjoyed her asleep, and they found a way to get both. Logan isn’t cursed or broken, he’s merely a man who enjoys somnophilia, and I don’t balk at something like that. I never judge others for their wants and needs, the same way I hope he doesn’t when he hears my proposal.
I don’t know how I knew he’d have them, but when I hit the final drawer, tugging it open, I find the bottle I need. I pull it out, lifting it so he can see what I have, but before I have time to make my case, he’s shaking his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
He turns and heads down the hallway into the bedroom with me hot on his heels. He’s on the bed, his head in his hands as he tugs at his dark hair. I can feel the frustration flowing from him.
“Please, just hear me out,” I beg as I drop to my knees in front of him. “Logan,” I call to him, my voice dripping with a plea. When he finally lifts his gaze to mine, I settle on the bed beside him. “Let’s try this. I want to try this.”
“Why? I’m a fuck up, Vera. This is a fucking joke,” he grits through clenched teeth. I watch his angular jaw tick with frustration. I want so badly to help him, to hold him and tell him it’s all going to be okay, but I know he won’t believe me. He needs to allow this to happen before he believes it.
“You’re not a fuck up, and I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him.