Wolverine Gets a Little Upset

[This follows up Wolverine's Desire, which followed Wolverine Confidential. I will do my best to finish the story in one or two more parts at most, after the characters tell me what is going to happen. Of course the character of Logan belongs to Marvel.]

*

The room blazed white as the beast-men simultaneously fired their weapons. Katherine watched as if in slow motion, as the two blasts hit Logan square in the chest, his head snapping forward as the force sent him catapulting backward in a ball of fire, arms and legs sprawled as he slammed into the far wall of the library.

"NOooooooooooooo," she screamed as she saw him lifelessly slide down into a heap on the floor, and launched herself into a run toward his unmoving, smoldering form.

"No, princess," a beast-man said in a low, hollow voice, and then backhanded her across the face, dropping her to the floor, the force knocking the breath from her lungs. Stunned, with pain shooting through her jaw, she gasped for air as he reached down, grabbed her around the throat and dragged her up against the wall. He pinned her with his arm, and looking over his shoulder he said to the other beast, "Make sure its dead."

The command brought Katherine back to life, careening her arms and kicking at the beast. She grunted as she scratched the stinking, yellowed arm that pinned her, kicking as hard as she could, consumed by panic and desperation.

"Be still," he said as he turned back to her, as if remembering she was there. Then he struck her hard across the face with his other hand, then again with his fist, a concentrated blow against her temple.

Katherine's vision went black around the edges and her knees buckled. She was flooded with waves of dizziness and pain, the stench of the beast souring the air and adding to her rising nausea. For an instant she couldn't remember what was happening or why. Then, she was vaguely aware of more flashes of white lightening filling the room and understanding returned. Oh God, no. Please no, she thought, a miserable sound escaping from her. A sob caught in her throat and anguish filled her, burning through her eyes. The light stopped and with it, the last glimmer of hope faded from her. Logan was dead.

Oh God, her mind screamed. She felt as though her insides were collapsing, the tears being squeezed out by the pain, along with any desire to fight, or even to live. She slumped down, drained of all strength, held up only by the killer's fingers around her neck. Her inner voice screamed and cursed in rage at the brutal, heartless God she now hated. As she hung pinned against the wall by the murderer of her family, and now of her only love, she was consumed by the cruelty of it all, and she let go of every last spark of life within her.

"Go get the vehicle," the beast-man commanded.

"But, I want to be first this time," the other responded, as he looked over the shoulder of the leader, to stare at Katherine, his grotesque face a mask of ugliness. "They're no fun after you have them. It's my turn to be first."

"Go get the vehicle or you'll be first." His voice was low, menacing and clear in its authority, stating the threat with no misinterpretation. Then he turned to Katherine, "Talon wants you. For treason, princess."

"Treason?" she rasped out, numb and uncaring, her voice a thin rail of sound.

"Aura transmissions indicate you've taken a mate. There can be no heirs." Katherine's mind could not wrap around this, and she frowned at him, her thoughts too fuzzy to grasp his meaning.

He leaned in closer to her and blew his foul breath in her face. As she turned her head away, he said, "Someone's here with you. Talon wants to know who in the court is betraying him." He put a filthy finger to her face, "You'll tell him what he wants to know," he smiled, dragging his finger down her cheek. And then he pushed his large body, stinking and grotesque, against her. She felt the bile rise to her throat, her lip curling in disgust. "But first, I'll have some pleasure from you." He pushed harder against her, his putrid breath blowing over her.

She looked up at him as his meaning dawned. A bolt of rage, fueled by fear, shot through her, bringing her back to life. She raised her head and strained back, trying to push away to get some room to fight.

Snitk. Snitk.

"You picked the wrong girl, bub."

Still holding her by the throat, the beast turned his head as Logan lunged onto his back and wrapped one clawed hand around his chest, gouging into the flesh. Katherine watched in stunned silence as a snarling Logan brought his other razor sharp claws slashing down on the beast's forearm, driving through bone and muscle and severing the arm, releasing Katherine from her trap. Her hands came up to shield her face as blood from the amputated arm sprayed her, the beast yelling and pitching around, trying to reach Logan.

"Oh my God," Katherine whispered, reality shifting, as she watched Logan, his face pulled back in a picture of rage and fury, a roar coming from him as he drove into the beast's back again. Then he slashed a second time through the arm, severing it further up and causing the beast to scream and spin and spray an arch of blood out into the library.

"Pick on somebody your own size, cocksucker." Logan growled the words out as he continued to slash into the man who was spinning under him like a bull trying to throw off a rider. Logan rammed his claws again into the man's back, holding there for leverage, and then racked across the beast-man's chest and up into the neck with a yell of fury. Then, he pulled off and vaulted to the floor. Crouching, with his face drawn back in a snarl, his arms spread and ready, he watched while the mortally wounded beast turned one more time in a circle, his knees giving out, and fell dead to the floor.

Katherine stood transfixed, afraid to move or call to him, as if this new scene might evaporate and she'd be returned to the nightmare of seconds before. She drank him in with her eyes, as if she could stabilize the picture, making him real and alive, simply by her will. She tried to take a breath and Logan turned partly toward her, teeth barred and the fierceness and rage painted across his face. He looked back at the dead man, jaw still clenched and his mouth set in a grim line. Then, he looked over to her again, as if remembering something, a flicker of awareness passing over his face.

But then, Logan's head snapped around, and he launched himself at the open door, just as the second mercenary strolled through. Arms stretched out and claws extended, the muscles across his back rippled with effort. Logan stabbed violently into the beast's chest, withdrew, spun around and struck two lethal blows, one after the other, slashing down fully through the man's chest. A look of surprise was fixed on the hideous face as he dropped lifelessly to the floor.

Logan stood over him growling, his chest heaving, turning his face away from Katherine. He rolled his neck, metal popping, and shook out his arms with a grunt. Then he gave the bloody mass a vicious kick. She watched as his breathing slowed and she waited, memorizing him. His arms hung at his sides, his muscular back still braced. His shirt was almost completely gone, burned away, except for some blackened remnants tucked and hanging from the waist of his jeans. He turned his head slightly, as if to listen for her to move or to say something, but did not face her. Then she saw his shoulders lift to take a deep breath, and he retracted his claws, the metallic tones echoing in the deadly quiet of the library. He turned to face her and she watched as he transformed from assassin, back to Logan, his expression softening with concern as he took her in.

"Katherine," he said as he strode over to her, searching her face and frowning. "Are you hurt?"

"My head hurts. He hit me. Really hard." She winched as he brushed his fingers over the darkening bruise on her face and explored the bump growing on her temple. He scowled and muttered a curse under his breath.

"You SEE!" She jerked away and screeched. "I told you to get out!" Her voice was shrill as she pulled from his grasp and faced him with a scowl. Impotently slapping at his arms she continued, "This wouldn't have happened if you had left when I told you to go!"

"Katherine, you're upset," he said tentatively. "I'm sorry you had to see..." he said trying to find a way to apologize for what she had seen.

"I'm leaving."

Logan stilled at her words, caution and anxiety moving into him. "What? Katherine, look," he began, holding his hands out in supplication, but then he noticed they were still covered with blood. "Chrissakes," he rasped and folded his hands back around his body. Wiping them on his jeans, he said, "Katherine, this isn't..."

"Are you coming?" she snapped as she whirled around, still in a shrill, anxious voice, as if he couldn't hear her. "I'm getting out of here." She glared at him. "Are you coming or staying this time?" She mocked as if challenging him.

"I'm coming," he said cautiously and waited.

"Okay then," she said after a pause and seemed to relax slightly at that. Then taking a breath, she nodded at him, "Can we go now, please?" Then she paced quickly back to the desk and pulled out a small case. Logan picked up his jacket and was pulling on his shoes, when a red light filled the room and encircled the two corpses.

"Oh no," Katherine breathed out and she stood staring with her mouth open. Then the light and bodies vanished. "Oh God," she whispered.

"Looks like we'd better go," Logan said calmly, taking hold of Katherine's trembling form and herding her quickly out past the demolished doors of the library. "Katherine, I'm on foot, remember?"

"We'll take my truck. But I don't think I can drive," she said apologetically, as they reached her weathered Chevy, holding out the keys to him with an unsteady hand.

"At your service, darlin'," he said and handed her up into the passenger's side, circled around and leaped into the driver's seat. He cranked the engine, shoved it into gear and peeled out; the screeching tires echoing in the garage. Then, he pulled into the thoroughfare without stopping, dodged oncoming cars, horns blasting, turned a sharp left, skipped over the median, and headed against traffic again for a moment before he turned sharply up onto the Interstate ramp.

"Shit, Logan," she said, holding on to the dash, feeling her stomach go queasy again. "Do you always drive like this?"

"Pretty much. But aren't we running for our lives?" He turned to her, a cocky smile etching the corners of his mouth.

"You think this is funny!" She hissed out, as he shrugged his shoulders at her, smiled and powered up the ramp.

Katherine stared grimly out the window of the old truck. Did the man have no fear at all? She tried to settle her insides and focus her thoughts, tapping down the creeping terror in the back of her mind. She looked over at him as he drove recklessly out of town, and searched his profile for some clue or direction out of this. As she studied him, her insides melted with longing. She had always thought him handsome, although not in the conventional sense. But now, after everything, the sight of him was simply electrifying. Sinfully attractive, he was masculine in way that was almost magical. His fierce intensity and his overriding power was staggering in its affect on her.

She watched his hands on the wheel and remembered his lovemaking, his mastery of her body with his. But the quickness of his eyes and hands as he registered the traffic, reminded her of the lightening speed and brutal force with which he had dispatched the mercenaries. His flight jacket hung back now, his shirt burned away, disclosing the rippling muscles of his chest and his tight, chiseled waist. She took a breath. His strength, speed and skill with his claws could only be described as dazzling. It had been no match at all.

But he had had the element of surprise. Those who had sent the mercenaries could have never imagined someone like Logan at her side, pulled into this by accident, a cruel serendipity. The next time they found her, they'd be prepared. If he stayed with her, Logan would eventually die. She looked out sightlessly to the passing landscape, as the despair began to grow in her chest. She could not let that happen.

"Are you sure your okay, darlin'?" He asked with a frown, and offered, "I'll slow down again. It's not far."

"No, that's alright, I'm fine now." She lied, and forced a smile, which drew another frown from him. She held his eyes and he gave her a questioning look. Casting around for a distraction, she remarked softly, "You're really good." He lifted an eyebrow at that. "Good at what you did," she explained, "What you do."

"Yeah," he looked forward, took a breath and sighed, his mouth in a grim line. "I'm the best," he said without emotion. Then he turned his head and concentrated his gaze back on her. "But it's not pretty."

"No," she said, thinking how utterly amazing he was, and how, in the lost childhood of her heart, and without even a glimmer of guilt, she relished the carnage he'd delivered. Then she replied simply, "No. It's not."

Logan, sensing the change in Katherine, slanted a look at her from underneath his brows as she gazed out the window. Jesus, what did she expect? A flicker of shame and uncertainty passed through him and he tapped it down. It wasn't like he'd had a choice. She should realize that, Goddamn it. He took a breath. Fuck it. He would just give her time, nodding to himself as he pulled the truck into the gravel drive. She'd get over the worst of it. Women needed time to deal with these things.

"Where are we?" Katherine asked, suddenly becoming aware of the surroundings.

"My cabin."

"Your cabin? You have a cabin?"

"Uh huh."

Katherine followed Logan in to the small, rustic cottage, hidden in the wooded glen of a foothill, invisible from the road. He walked up steps, through a screen porch, and pulled open the door for her. She walked in and he stepped past her to toss her bag through the door of a simple bedroom off from the entry. Then he stepped back into the larger room and began to open windows. Katherine looked around the plain, basic space and a smile touched the corners of her mouth. It was just like him, she thought. Plain, honest, strong. Oh, how she would love to live here with him in his little castle in the woods. She signed as she reached over and touched the window casing, looking out to the forest.

"You okay?" Logan stood back from her and cocked his head.

"Yeah," she lied again, and gazed back at him, wondering how she was going to have the strength to leave. "This is nice."

"Well, it works." He surveyed the room. "At least we have plenty of hot water." He reached over and touched her face, "You're tired. Rest." He pointed to the couch. "I'm going to scrub those bastards' stench off me with pine soap and really, really hot water." At that he pulled off his jacket and pitched it over the back of a cane chair, strode to the bedroom, and began shedding what was left of his shirt and unhooking his jeans.

Katherine turned and sat on an old, worn leather couch, took off her shoes and listened to the shower start. She stared out at the trees, thoughts ping-ponging in her mind. The mercenary had somehow known she'd mated, but didn't know it was Logan. Maybe it was the aura. He would be safe if he were away from her. She breathed out a long sigh and leaned her head back on the couch, the inevitability of the decision piercing her through the heart. She would have to drive him away. And, he would never go willingly. Not as long as he thought she needed him. An ache of tears swelled behind her eyes, as her train of reasoning led her to a torturous thought: she'd have to convince him that she no longer wanted him. "God," she whispered to herself, as the pain of her decision and method pressed in on her.

"Well, princess," she hissed her label out like poison, "You can at least thank the gentleman for almost getting killed saving your worthless life." She picked herself up off the sofa and walked into the bedroom, locating the shower stall off to one side. Logan's form was apparent behind the thin cloth shower curtain, which covered the large opening to a smooth, wooden stall. Steam poured out from the edges of the curtain, puffing against Katherine's cheeks as she leaned forward and asked through the cloth, "Logan?"

Logan immediately drew back the curtain and pinned her with a look. He was covered with soap and his hair was wet and curling in the steam. Katherine caught a breath at the sight of him, and stood dumbfounded, her mouth slightly open. He was simply magnificent.

"Hi," he said meaningfully and continued to soap his chest, holding the bar in one hand. "Need something?"

"Logan," she looked away, and bit her lip, searching for the words and attempting to level her breathing. "Logan...I," she looked back at him, "I didn't thank you for saving my life."

"You're welcome." He said, still staring at her, circling the soap over his chest.

"No, I mean it. What you did was.... It was...I'm so sorry that you got involved." She shook her head, "I don't know how I can thank you..." At that he dropped the soap, reached out, grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the shower and hard up against his warm, soapy body. Then he drew the curtain closed, gathered her up into his arms, and kissed her hard on the mouth. As his lips moved over hers, the hot water flowed on her face, head and shoulders, sending ripples of sensation over her skin, and adding to the riveting feel of his lips, mouth and hands. The water, and his body pressing to hers, plastered her thin dress to her frame as if it had vanished.

"I know how you can thank me." He muttered against her lips, and grabbed the hem of her dress, dragged it up and over her hips, then off her shoulders, tossing it to the side of the stall. Then he pushed her wet hair back from her face, drew her more securely against his large, muscular and soapy frame, and pressed her mouth open for a deeper kiss. She squeaked as he broke the kiss and crouched slightly to strip her underwear down her legs, pitching it to the side. As he pulled her to him again, he groaned as he lifted one of her legs and wrapped it up and around his waist. His naked flesh sliding over hers was like a spark to tender, and her breathing hitched again. Then he glided his soapy, slippery hands down her body and, squatting slightly, grasped her bottom and pulled her against his hardening erection. Excitement flooded into her at the intimate contact, a whirlwind of sensation created by his touch.

"Wait, Logan, wait," she stuttered. "We can't do this."

"Sure we can, I'm not tired at all. I'll do everything. You just relax," he said as he turned her around and slid his hands over her breasts, drawing a gasp from her. She clasped her hands around his wrists to pull him away, but he seemed to take it as though she were steadying herself, and lowered his fingers to her sex, sliding into the folds of her body and edging her feet apart. Logan growled close to her ear, and then moved his mouth to her neck, the warm water gently raining over her head as he pulled her back.

"No, Logan." Katherine jerked out of his grasp and faced him, as she denied the desire flooding into her. "No." She said breathlessly. Logan stared silently at her with a look of confusion, his chest moving up and down. Then he blinked the water out of eyes, and pressed his lips together as his expression clouded. She could see the muscles of his face ticking slightly, the only clue to his agitation. Then his face turned into a mask of indifference and he stepped away.

"Whatever you say, Katherine. It's your party." Then he turned from her, the set of his mouth revealing the hint of distain and hurt as he stooped to retrieve the soap, and he stepped back under the water.