BOUND TO HIM (Book II: Captured series)

18. Logan

Wildfire.

Her eyes reminded me of the time when Constance was messing around and almost burned down the entire house.

Him and his friends had bought borax and methanol from somewhere I still have no clue about. And the idiots had decided to ignite the damn thing. The result, some property damage that my father had no issues in getting repaired and my mother almost having a stroke.

I was the first one to smell the smoke and when I reached his room, my eyes were fixed on the green flames that burned in front of me. I should have tried to put out the fire or run away from it. Instead I just stared because of how magnificent it looked.

The way the flame had its outer edges painted in bright green with a bluish tone at the centre. I was entranced. As if it was the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed. Constance's arm tugging me back was the only thing that broke the spell and it's been the only time when he saved my life. Did I feel like I owed him anything after that? Fuck no!

The following day I moved out.

I was old enough and didn't want to deal with my family so I came here. Our family home that no one ever used. Of course, my siblings wanted to follow behind me but I wasn't having any of that. I had given my share of threats to keep them away and it worked on most of the days.

"Logan?" Elle is standing at an arms length from me and it's taking all the control in my already exhausted body, to not pull her close.

My gaze travels to her hands.

I had never thought of her to be one who'd even consider the thought of hurting herself. Especially, since she constantly worried about her brother.

I should've known though, I had noted the signs. They were right there in front of me since the night I met her. Cutting her palm with a shard of glass while she made the futile attempt to escape, by baiting a maid.

Fuck!

She hadn't even flinched when I tried to cut out the tracker from her hip.

I've seen grown men come to their knees at the sight of a knife. But she looked like she's been doing that all her life. I really should've paid attention.

The thought that she could have lost her life if she hadn't been careful all those times occurs in my brain. A picture of her body lying cold on the floor, surrounded by blood. One wrong move can do that.

Just assuming of that probability is like lashes on my back. The burn makes me uncomfortable. I shift to the edge of my seat, raking a hand through my hair as I try to erase the mess in my head.

"Logan, are you alright?" Her voice is dripping with concern as she cups my face.

Her knees hit the floor, eyes searching for mine, hands that could barely hold my face.

How can you be so infuriated at someone you care so deeply about?

Because she does things that could lead to me loosing her forever.

The girl who I had met when I was a little boy. Even with the sorrow in her eyes, I can't imagine her trying to harm herself.

When I found her unconscious in my room, I didn't know whom to be mad at. Her, for doing such a thing? Or myself, for putting her in that spot in the first place.

Malcom Lively's death had a huge impact on her life. I was very much aware of it. Within that tough exterior she put out for her brother, there was still that little girl, mourning her mother and now her father.