Marie had been actively avoiding Logan for days. It bothered him, partly because he couldn't work out why, and partly because it simply hurt. Busy was one thing, and she was usually pretty good about telling him when she needed space. This avoidance was something else.
He'd heard her in the forest this afternoon and he thought she was finally coming up to the house, but instead she gave his property a wide berth. That had him up and off the porch before he registered he was moving. He tracked her easily through the woods to a large clearing by the shore of the small lake. The sun was shining but the wind was fierce and cold, buffeting even his heavy body. The lake was choppy with white caps.
He saw her emerge from the tree line, wearing the long green coat he remembered from that first night in Laughlin City and carrying something in her hands. Her slight form was easily manipulated by the wild power of the wind. Each strong gust rocked her back a step but she stood resolute. She turned her face toward the lake and the force of the wind off the water blew her hood back. Her hair streamed behind her like a banner.
She jumped a foot when he silently appeared at her side.
"Geez, Logan! Warn a girl, wouldya?"
"Hey, kid. Whatcha doin'?"
A blush rose on her cheeks and she fidgeted, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "It's kinda personal."
That stung. He shrugged. "Okay, then." He turned to go, face hard and stoic, his body rigid with rejection. She'd never dismissed him like that before.
He was surprised when she caught his arm and he allowed her to pull him to a stop. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that. You can stay if you want." He was unconvinced. "I'd like you to, really. But if you do, you have to help and not just watch."
Well, now that caught his interest. "No hints?"
"Nope. Either you want to or you don't. Your call, cowboy."
He didn't even hesitate.
"I wanna."
Her expression was unreadable. Had he made the right choice? He wasn't sure. She didn't seem upset or angry at him and if she wasn't, then he was really confused about why she'd purposefully avoid him. Was this about things changing between them? The sex club? Something else?
Marie knelt at his feet and a flood of erotic images, charged by the memory of several overheard conversations, ran full-tilt through his brain. On her knees in front of him, head bowed, lip caught between her teeth... For one insane moment he wondered if she was kneeling to—
No. No. Jesus. Not that, asshole. Christ!
His jaw clenched and he drew in a slow breath, trying to calm the wild rush roaring under his skin as he watched her put the small sack down and reach for the clasp.
Unaware of Logan's momentary struggle, Marie opened the bag she'd been carrying. She removed a handmade paper kite and unrolled it before handing him a thick spool of string with heavy duty handles. As she tucked the bag into her deep pocket, he noticed the arms of her coat were a good inch too short. Nothing stays the same forever.
"If you want to bail, now's the time, sugar."
Distracted by trying to wrangle his base thoughts into submission, he realized he hadn't taken the spool from her outstretched fingers. He hadn't been expecting this, but something about her was still not right and he wanted to see where this was going before he opened his mouth. Fuck only knew what might come out right now, anyway.
He took the spool in answer, watching her face while she searched his eyes before she finally shrugged and bent to prepare the kite for its inaugural flight. The kite was simple but beautifully crafted. She'd painted it with swirls of cobalt, violet and a deep crimson that made him think of blood. The colors were rich and vibrant but the overall impression was of sadness. Picking up the kite and shaking out the tail streamers, she took the spool from his hand.
"You ever done this?"
He shook his head. Not that he could remember.
"Okay then. You watch me this time. Next time it's you." She waited for his nod and he had the feeling if he hadn't, she would have sent him away. He paid attention to her hands and to what she was doing; where she rested the kite, how much slack she drew and how much distance she put between herself and the kite. He had no desire to look like a fool in front of her when his turn came.
She was suddenly in motion. It seemed like magic, like she'd only taken three or four quick steps and the kite was in the air, ten feet and then twenty. He could hear the hiss of the streamers and the snapping and popping of the kite as it was buffeted by the powerful wind. It came back down in a graceful swoop and she gathered it up and brought it to him.
"Now you."
Feeling a little foolish, he took the kite and spool from her. Walking a little distance away, he set the kite the way she had and pulled out what he hoped was an appropriate amount of slack as he walked backwards. She was nodding, so he must not be doing it too terribly wrong.
Now'r never, bub.
He moved. Quickly. The kite was up. He was elated for one brief moment and then it rocketed back to Earth. His second and third attempts were much the same. It made him feel uncomfortable and angry. He didn't like to fail at anything, especially in front of her.
She appeared at his shoulder, her hand on his arm, pulling his ear down to her lips even though they both knew she really didn't need to for him to hear her. "There's a moment, just when the wind catches it. It wants to go up. You're letting it go then. You're surrendering when you need to fight."
They both smiled. It might possibly be the only time in history that someone had ever uttered those words to him and meant them.
"The wind is wild, unpredictable. It wants to take the kite but it needs resistance. The wind needs something to pull against that's anchored. The kite needs both to fly."
Were they still talking about kites? He wasn't sure.
"Try it again. This time, when you feel the wind grab it, don't give it more slack. Let the wind fight you for it. When you feel the pull, hold it tighter. When it starts to buck and judder, let the string slip between your fingers. Just- just a little. The wind wants to work for it. Once it takes it, you'll know."
He nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable because her husky directions were starting to make him hard. She gave him an appraising look and he was thankful she couldn't read his mind.
"When you're ready..."
Set the kite. Wait for the grab. Don't give it up too easy. Feel the string slip. Not too much... He was still just thankful the fucking thing hadn't crashed in the first few seconds when he felt a hard jerk on his arm. The second jerk was even stronger and the string burned where it slipped quickly through his fingers. It was up and rising fast. Elation roared hotly through him and the intensity of it surprised him.
Marie was running to him, her face lit up like a Christmas tree. The wind had snatched away her words, but he could clearly read her pleasure. She was breathless when she reached him. "More, sugar, more! Don't stop!" The line burned through his hand again. Her words made a very different sort of heat burn much lower. She stopped at his side as the kite went higher still.
"You're a good teacher, darlin'."
"Cooking and kites. At least there are a few things I do well." He was focused on the kite and missed the flash of sadness in her face.
"Now what?"
"Now you play with it, cowboy."
He almost swallowed his tongue.
Her laughter was genuine. "Don't arch that eyebrow at me. You asked for this."
"Yes, ma'am."
She touched his arm through his sleeve, spreading out her fingers to feel the bunch and flex of his muscles as the wind grabbed the kite.
"You've got it just right. Any higher and it gets hard for a beginner to control. The wind will let you play with it, control it even, if you don't let it have too much head."
Jesus, she was burning him up.
"Watch." Leaving one hand on Logan's arm to feel the tension, she wrapped the other around the string and pulled. The kite danced, swooping in a wide circle to the left. She pulled again, and the kite made an arc through the sky in the opposite direction. The string thrummed as she let it go. "Now you..."
He had no idea how she could make it move so easily. His strength was a hundred times that of hers and the pull on his arms was tremendous. It must be finesse and not brute strength, otherwise the wind would yank the kite from her fingers. He pulled and the kite moved, swirling and dancing. He heard laughter and was surprised to find it was his own. Above the wind, he could hear the wild whipping of the streamers and the bright snapping of the kite's body.
"Shit. S'gonna break."
"No it won't. The wind wants it but the kite's strong. It's made for this. They're just playin'." Marie shaded her eyes and looked up. "You're better at this part than I am. My arms get tired too quickly."
Pleasure rolled through him. Her approval always did that for him. Even in the small things.
"Here, kid. You have a turn." He handed it over and stood at her back as she took it with a quiet smile.
She moved closer and took his hand in hers.
"Touch it."
Ah, God. His mouth went dry.
Guiding his hand to the string so he could feel the movement, she let a good thirty or forty feet out and the kite rose quickly, the line humming with tension as the wind grabbed it, dragging it across the sky. It sang for her, swirling and spinning, sometimes quickly, sometimes in slow lazy circles.
Instead of staring at the kite, Logan dropped his hand and observed Marie's face, surprised to see envy there as she watched the wind move the kite and felt the pull in her arms. She was walking slowly now, away from the lake and toward the trees. Something about that particular spot must have called to her because she sat, not seeming to care the grass was wet and boggy. He sat too, curious.
"Up now," she said quietly and she relaxed her hold on the spool. It whirled wildly in her hands, making a sort of buzzing noise as the line paid out faster and faster. She slowed the wild careening as it neared the end, just a few circles of string left, looped and tied to the spool with a firm knot. "It'll snap now if you're not careful." He watched as she let the last few turns out slowly until it was just an empty spool with the string wrapped twice and tied securely with a strong knot. "Here... feel it now."
She passed back the spool. He was surprised by the pull. It was more powerful now, wilder with less quick lateral movements.
"S'stronger," he said quietly. It felt good. Wild. She'd left her hands on his arms to share the sensation and he liked that, too.
That made her smile. "It sure is."
"How much line is that?" He could barely see the kite now as it danced along the edge of the clouds.
"Just a short one today. Quarter of a mile. At the beach you can do half a mile, easy."
A chuff of air left his chest. "Gonna take you an hour to reel it in."
"I'm not worried." She shrugged. "This is the best part. Feel it. The wind has it completely now. Touching it all over. Rough and gentle with no rules or constraints. Pushing it higher, making it do what it wants the kite to do, letting the kite just take it all, because that's what it's been built for. The wind's so wild up there. Strong and timeless. There's no control now. Only surrender. Just flight and life and freedom. It's beautiful." There were tears in her eyes.
He had the sense, again, that she wasn't talking about kites anymore. Not at all. That maybe not a single word of what she'd said to him this afternoon had been about kites. And he nodded, because his throat was suddenly tight.
She reached into her coat. A sudden flash of silver caught his attention and his eyes widened as she palmed a butterfly knife and deftly opened it with a quick flick of her wrist. Who the fuck had taught her to do that? Before he could even register what she was doing, she reached up and cut the string.
"Wait!"
She just shook her head, watching as the small dark speck soared violently upwards and disappeared into the clouds. He stared at her, first in shock and then with compassion. Her eyes slipped shut. Tears leaked under her lashes. The deep look of longing on her upturned face was painful to see and he understood in that moment why this was private for her. Touch and freedom lay at the heart of it. They gave rise to desire and longing and release and finally catharsis as she let it go. That's why the painting on the kite evoked sadness. It was a physical act that felt good, euphoric and pleasurable at first and then symbolic at the end, cutting ties, the loss of hope and the quiet, violent longing for touch.
She wanted to be free.
Oh, darlin'. "Keep your eyes closed, huh?"
She nodded, still under his fingertips as she felt him brush the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. A brief touch. Too quick for her skin to hurt him. He hugged her close for long moments and then she could feel his hands on her shoulders and his breath, warm in her ear.
"Come and find me up at the house when you're done here."
She nodded again, thankful he could read her desire for space. Since she'd manifested, she had given herself this gift every February when the others were exchanging flowers and candy. And kisses. With the passage of time, this ritual became more important as her childish desire for a boyfriend's kisses became a woman's deeper longing for a lover of her own.
Marie wasn't sure how she felt about sharing the familiar ritual with Logan. She'd enjoyed it, watching his pleasure and sharing her own. It wasn't a traditional exchange, but was all she had. It made her melancholy. She wanted more and was very aware it was unlikely to happen. In another way, it made her feel... not happy, exactly, but content. She had a very deep connection with a person she loved very much. It wasn't sexual or romantic, but she'd shared something special with him today, something personal and intimate, and that felt good.
Today it was enough. Someday, though, someday very soon this strange limbo they existed in wasn't going to be enough and she was afraid of what she might find on the other side. Today had been a hard day, good but difficult. Fear outweighed sadness. Fear and her quiet enjoyment of his pleasure.
The wind was cutting through her and the idea of warming herself by Logan's fire was enough to push her to her feet. Her eyes opened. Something silver glittered against her coat. Surprised, she looked down, following the delicate chain around her neck to the pendant hanging against her chest. When had he put that there? A flawless piece of frosty red sea glass rested against her heart, glowing brilliantly in the late afternoon sun. It was simple and beautiful and Marie realized that Logan too had wanted to mark the passing of this day in his own gruff way. No words. No big gestures. Just a kite, a little piece of sea glass, and the pleasure of a shared afternoon.
It was the best Valentine's Day she'd ever had.
Up next: Wind of Change. Nothing stays the same forever. The Rogue reminds the Wolverine that he owes her a night at The Red Door, and she's in the mood to collect...