Evangeline stirs awake, her senses gradually coming back to her in disorienting waves. The first thing she registers is the creaking of an old bed spring beneath her, followed by the scratchy texture of a thin blanket against her skin. Her body aches, the lingering effects of the torture still fresh, and she winces as she tries to sit up, her movements slow and deliberate.

Her eyes flutter open, adjusting to the dim light filtering through a small window. The room is unfamiliar, with peeling wallpaper and a musty smell that permeates the air. Panic sets in as she struggles to remember how she ended up here. The last thing she recalls is Logan's fierce expression and the darkness closing in around her.

She scans the room, her gaze landing on Logan, who is asleep on a shabby couch against the far wall. His presence is both a comfort and a mystery, and her brows furrow as she takes in the sight of him. He looks different in this vulnerable state, almost peaceful, but the dried blood on his knuckles and shirt tells a different story.

Quietly, Evangeline swings her legs over the side of the bed, her feet touching the cold, creaky floor. She moves cautiously, trying not to wake him, but each step sends a jolt of pain through her body. She pauses, her eyes fixated on the dried blood, and suddenly, everything comes flooding back—the torture, the fear, Logan's timely arrival.

A particularly loud squeak under her foot breaks the silence, and Logan's eyes snap open. He sits up abruptly, his senses on high alert, and his gaze locks onto her. For a moment, neither of them speaks, the air thick with unspoken tension.

"You didn't need to save me," Evangeline says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan's eyes darken, and he stands, crossing the small distance between them in a few strides.

"You're right," He says, his tone hard, "I didn't need to."

She flinches at the anger in his voice, but she refuses to back down, "I could've handled it."

"Sure, you could've," He snaps, his frustration evident, "Look where that got you."

Evangeline's fists clench at her sides, "I don't need anyone to save me, Logan. I'm not some damsel in distress."

His jaw tightens, and he runs a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to keep his emotions in check, "You think I don't know that? You think I don't get it?"

She steps closer, her eyes blazing with defiance, "Why? Why do you care?"

"Because I can't help it!" He shouts, his voice echoing in the small room, "Because no matter how hard I try, I can't stay away from you."

The raw intensity in his eyes takes her breath away, and for a moment, she sees past the gruff exterior to the turmoil beneath.

"Logan," She begins, but he cuts her off.

"No," He says, his voice rough, "You need to understand something. I've been through hell, seen things you can't imagine. I've tried to keep my distance, tried to stay away, but it's like you're a magnet, pulling me back every damn time."

Evangeline's heart pounds in her chest, and she steps even closer, her eyes searching his, "Then don't stay away."

His expression hardens, and he looks away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"You don't know what you're asking for," He says, his voice low and dangerous.

"Maybe I do," She says softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

At her touch, something snaps in Logan. His claws extend with a metallic snikt, and he turns to her, his eyes wild.

"This is what I am," He growls, holding up his claws, "You want this in your life? You want this kind of danger?"

Evangeline's eyes widen, but she doesn't back away. Instead, she reaches out and gently touches one of his claws, the cold metal sending a shiver down her spine, "I'm not afraid of you."

His breath catches, and for a moment, he looks at her as if seeing her for the first time.

"You should be," He says, his voice a whisper.

"Why?" She asks, her gaze unwavering, "Because you have claws? Because you're a mutant?"

"Because I've hurt people," He says, his voice raw with emotion.

"So have I," She says, stepping closer until they're almost touching.

The tension between them is electric, the air thick with unspoken words and repressed emotions. Logan's breath is hot on her skin, and she can feel the heat radiating off his body. Her heart races, and she knows that this moment is a turning point, a line that once crossed, there's no going back.

Logan's eyes bore into hers, his claws still extended, and she can see the internal battle he's fighting.

"Damn it," He whispers, his voice filled with anguish, "Why do you have to make this so hard?"

"Because I care," She says simply, reaching up to touch his face, "Because I see you."

He closes his eyes at her touch, his claws retracting with a shuddering breath. When he opens his eyes again, they're filled with a mixture of hope and despair, "You don't know what you're getting into."

"Maybe I don't," She admits.

Evangeline pulls away from Logan, her heart still pounding in her chest.

She heads down the narrow hallway, her mind racing with the intensity of their recent exchange. As she steps into the bathroom, she shuts the door behind her and leans against it, taking a moment to catch her breath. The room is small and utilitarian, with a simple shower, a sink, and a mirror. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, her face still pale and eyes red from crying. With a determined sigh, she turns on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up before stepping under the spray.

The hot water cascades over her, washing away the grime and the pain of the past few days. She closes her eyes, letting the steam envelop her, and for a moment, she allows herself to just be. To exist without the weight of her burdens. The tension in her muscles begins to ease, and she slowly starts to feel human again.

After what feels like an eternity, Evangeline turns off the water and steps out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself. She realizes with a start that she doesn't have a change of clothes. Her heart sinks at the thought of putting her dirty clothes back on, but then she remembers Logan's baggy clothes hanging in his closet. It feels intimate, borrowing his clothes, but she decides to go for it.

Wrapping the towel tightly around herself, she cracks the bathroom door open and peeks out. Logan is still in the living area, his back to her. She slips out quietly and heads to his room, opening his closet and pulling out a soft, worn T-shirt and a pair of boxers. She quickly changes into them, the fabric warm and comforting against her skin. The clothes are far too big, the shirt hanging off one shoulder and the boxers cinched at the waist, but they smell like him, a mix of musk and something uniquely Logan.

When she steps out of the bedroom, she finds Logan sitting on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands. He looks up as she enters the room, and the sight of her in his clothes hits him like a punch to the gut. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes darken, the raw intensity of his gaze sending a shiver down her spine.

Evangeline feels a flush rise to her cheeks, the air between them crackling with unspoken tension.

"Thanks for letting me borrow these," She says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Logan's jaw tightens, and he nods, his eyes never leaving hers, "No problem."

She moves closer, feeling the magnetic pull between them, and sits on the edge of the couch next to him. The silence is thick, charged with an electric current that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Logan," She starts, but he cuts her off.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" He growls, his voice low and rough.

Her breath hitches at his words, the raw desire in his eyes sending a thrill through her, " I—"

He doesn't let her finish. In an instant, he's on his feet, pulling her up with him. His hands grip her arms, and she can feel the barely contained strength in his touch.

"I can't keep doing this," He says, his voice a rough whisper.

Evangeline's heart races, her pulse pounding in her ears.

"Then don't," She whispers back, her eyes locked on his.

Logan's resolve snaps. He pulls her against him, his lips crashing down on hers with a fierce hunger. The kiss is intense, a release of all the pent-up tension between them. She responds in kind, her hands tangling in his hair as she presses closer, feeling the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his clothes.

He lifts her effortlessly, carrying her to the bedroom and laying her down on the bed. The mattress creaks under their weight, but neither of them cares. His hands roam over her body, his touch setting her skin on fire. She arches into him, her breath coming in short, gasping bursts as he trails kisses down her neck.

"Logan," She moans, her voice filled with need.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and intense.

"Tell me you want this," He demands, his voice rough.

"I do," She breathes, her hands gripping his shoulders, "I want this. I want you."

That's all he needs to hear. He kisses her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her lips. His hands slide under the oversized shirt she's wearing, finding the bare skin beneath. She shivers at his touch, her body aching for more.

Evangeline pulls at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against hers. He helps her, pulling it off and tossing it aside. She runs her hands over his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath. His body is a testament to the life he's lived, scars marking his skin, each one telling a story of survival.

He lowers himself onto her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. The feel of him, the heat of his skin, drives her wild. She wraps her legs around him, pulling him closer, needing him closer.

Logan's hands are everywhere, his touch both gentle and demanding. He worships her body, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of her. She responds with equal fervor, her own hands and lips tracing the contours of his body.

Their movements become more urgent, the need between them building to a fever pitch. When he finally enters her, it's like coming home. They move together, their bodies in perfect sync, the connection between them deep and undeniable.

The room is filled with the sounds of their passion, the creak of the bed, the whisper of their breaths, the moans and gasps of pleasure. Time seems to stand still, the outside world fading away until all that exists is the two of them, lost in each other.

As they reach the peak of their passion, Evangeline cries out his name, her body trembling with the force of her release. Logan follows moments later, his own climax hitting him like a freight train. They collapse together, a tangle of limbs and sweat-soaked skin, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

For a long moment, they just lie there, holding each other, the aftershocks of their lovemaking still coursing through them. Finally, Logan pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a mix of wonder and awe.

They kiss again, a slow, tender kiss that speaks of promises and possibilities. For the first time in a long time, Evangeline feels alive, truly alive.

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