He frowned. "Why? I thought you had forgiven us." He separated from the hug and brought his injured arm closer to me. "Can't you see this? It'll take a while before it heals; it hurts," he murmured.
"Does it?"
"I'm serious. You heard me wincing in pain, didn't you? That bastard crushed my bones; I had a hard time driving with my second hand."
He broke your hand. "What did you do to him?"
"I left him unconscious in the club. Vampires are night walkers; I'm sure he'll have a difficult time finding his way home after he wakes up," he smirked.
"Why did you get into a fight? You should have ignored him."
Logan lowered his gaze. "He insulted my kind. He said we had lost our glory," he said.
I sighed, reaching for his hands—both the injured one and the healthy one. "I don't like that you fought, but I'm pleased that you dealt with him. His kind are the worst. What gave him the right to say that to you?"
"Exactly. I couldn't ignore it, so I fought him."
