Soul Avenged (Sons of Wrath, #1) (10 page)

God, I could
use a shower.

Part of him
wondered if it mattered. He’d be dead in six days.

Six days to
live.

The thought
should have frightened him more than it did. No doubt in his mind
that the grey-eyed woman and her demon consorts would gladly sever
his head without thinking twice. Why hadn’t they already? What was
so special about him?

What does she
want?

He’d already
given her as many details as he knew about the attack. And yet, she
still seemed dissatisfied.

His mind
drifted back to that night.
What if I’d left work earlier?
Would he be waking up to hear of another attack on the news, like
everyone else?

An ache
swelled in his chest.

He’d be
sipping his coffee in the kitchen, reading the news and checking
emails. Probably planning to work later in the day, as always.

In truth, had
it happened to anyone else, the losses would’ve probably been so
much more. He had no children, no wife. Hell, he hadn’t had a real
girlfriend since high school.

He couldn’t
summon one face in his mind that he’d have wanted to see in the
same situation. He shook his head.
Shitty place, shitty
timing.

A strange
sense of acceptance suddenly settled over him while everything
inside him wanted to fight against it. Faced with being one of
those ruthless beasts though,
child
killers as the demon had
referred to them—he’d rather be taken out.

Put down like
a rabid dog.

The dream that
had shaken him to the core came slamming back.

Murdering a
man in front of his toddler child? Where did these thoughts even
derive?

He wasn’t
capable of such a thing—which could only mean whatever grew inside
him had begun chipping away at his humanity.

It felt so
real.

The
hunger.

The
hatred.

As if he’d
enjoyed
it.

A numb
sensation coursed through his body. The unsettled thoughts moved to
his gut, threatening to cast out the food he’d just eaten.

He’d never
allow himself to take an innocent life like that. Not so long as he
could stop it. He’d welcome death and all the pain in the world to
keep from becoming a monster.

And if he
couldn’t keep it from happening himself, he’d damn near beg Ayden
to kill him, if it came to that. Or give her reason to follow
through—regardless of whatever curiosity he was to her.

He leaned back
against the headboard and glanced around the room.

If I’m going
to die, better live it up.

There’d never
been so much time to kill in his life. It’d been years since he’d
taken a vacation. Not that wherever he was could be considered any
sort of getaway. But no pager. No emails. No phone calls.

Why the hell
not? So many years I’ve wasted. And for what?

At the end of
the week, he’d be a hearty demon dinner.

The
freshly-clean marble floor captured his stare as he sat on the edge
of the bed. Last night his legs couldn’t hold his weight.

Will they
now?

The odd
protrusion from his thigh had somehow righted itself in the middle
of the night. His shins ached a bit, but felt stronger. Holding on
to the nightstand, he rose carefully.

His muscles
strained, contracting beneath his skin to accommodate the
weight.

The strength
of his upper body took him by surprise. Muscles that, just
yesterday, hadn’t been anywhere near their size now. He brushed his
fingertips across his pectorals and down to his abdomen, both as
hard as if a master had snuck in his room in the middle of the
night and carved out ridges. Sure, he’d always been in shape for a
guy who worked more hours of the day than not—but nothing so …
unnatural. Almost
perfect
.

He tipped his
head back.
Now you give me a great-looking body.

Pity his legs
still hadn’t caught up to the rest of his development. Though the
muscle was clearly forming, it didn’t match the mass and strength
in his upper body, which explained why he’d collapsed the night
before. Each lower limb wobbled beneath him as he moved carefully
along the nightstand, the adjacent chair, and the wall before
finally reaching the bathroom.

Kane was no
stranger to staying in luxurious places but the bathroom had better
accommodations than the most expensive suite he’d ever stayed in on
business. He sniffed the air. A warm sandlewood scent drifted from
a diffuser, engulfing him for a moment before his attention shifted
to the surrounding details of the room.

Marble
flooring led all the way up to an intricately tiled staircase,
which encased a large Jacuzzi tub lined with candles. A huge sun
mural, tiled into the floor, lay expertly weaved within the marble.
The window next to the tub overlooked impressive winter grounds,
perhaps the Eastern-facing side of the property, judging from where
the shadows in the sun’s light cast against the snow. On the other
side of the room stood an enormous shower stall with frosted glass,
gold hardware and the most complicated-looking set of knobs he’d
ever seen, four sinks lining the opposite wall.

He hopped
along and opened the door to a closet to reveal a half dozen white
cotton terry robes on cedar hangers. Linens were neatly folded and
lined in another closet beside the first. There, he found
toiletries, just like a hotel, small sample bottles of different
varieties. He grabbed what he needed and scooted carefully to the
tub.

Turning on the
faucet, he dialed it to a tolerable heat and began removing his
clothes. Once the water had filled, he slid inside and closed his
eyes as his tortured muscles released every toxic ounce of pain
he’d suffered in the last day.

Hell, yes. If
I’m going to die, better to do it like this.

***

Ayden finally
stood up from the dining room table. She’d finished her coffee long
ago and declined when Bennett had offered another cup. He’d also
offered to clean up after her.

There were
some luxuries, though, that Ayden just couldn’t get used to.

She pushed
through the door to the kitchen. Thankfully, Zeke had gone back to
bed his human woman. He’d passed Ayden earlier in the dining room
with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Ayden made her
way over to the sink, where Annabelle scrubbed at a pan.

“Oh, hello
dear,” Annabelle said. “I took breakfast to your guest. He seemed
very appreciative of that.”

“Yeah, I’ll
bet.” Ayden’s voice came out as a grumble. “Thanks, Anna. Can I
help you with the pans?”

Annabelle
stopped scrubbing and turned to her. “You are the sweetest woman
Master Gavin has ever brought into this house. Always so
polite.”

Ayden cracked
a smile and glanced down at the white cup in her hand, her thumb
rubbing at a spot of dried coffee. “Don’t tell anyone. My
reputation would be ruined.”

“Your halfling
friend is
very
handsome.”

Ayden did her
best to hide the snarl begging to escape. “He’s not my friend. Not
even close.” She dared not tell Anna that he’d be headless by the
end of the week.

For an undead
demon, Anna probably had the biggest heart of anyone Ayden
knew.

“Oh. Well, he
seems to think highly of you. Noticed that you have gray eyes.”
Anna chuckled.

Ayden’s
stomach lurched. “I don’t take up with mutts.”

“Oh.”
Momentary silence lingered between the two of them. “If you don’t
mind me asking, miss, what
do
you want with the halfling
guest?”

“He’s nothing
more than a curiosity to me, Anna. He’ll be gone by the end of the
week.”

And he would.
Ayden would personally see to that.

“Mmmm. He
seems nice, though.” Anna sighed.

Ayden’s lip
curled. “They’re never what they seem.” She set her coffee cup on
the counter. “Unless there’s something I can help you with, Anna,
I’m going to get cleaned up.”

“No, no, I’ve
got this.” Anna shooed her out of the kitchen, her soapy hands
dripping all over the floor. “Go, go.”

Ordinarily,
Ayden would be scouting for lycans, easy to spot in their human
form during the day. Trouble makers, rebel rousers, the asshole at
the restaurant that gave the waitress a hard time and made a
scene.

All
lycans.

She’d track
them in the day, watching from afar without them ever knowing. But
something else nagged at her—a need to know more, to see more. Dare
she even imagine: feel more.

Time to raise
some hell.

~

Draven rang the
bell on the right side of the iron door in front of him. A black
and white camera screen flashed an older woman sitting behind the
desk before blanking out just as fast. At the wink of a green
light, the enormous door moved like a wall.

Once he’d
stepped inside the anteroom, he had to wait for the door to close
behind him before a second green light coincided with the opening
of another iron door ahead.

The Alexi had
taken over an inner city hospital that had closed down nearly a
decade prior, the perfect place to house an army, with over two
hundred and fifty rooms separated into wings. Wade had leveled the
entire Psych floor and made it his personal fortress. The only one
allowed inside at any given time was his secretary, a crotchety old
woman by the name of Phyllis Price. No one called her Phyllis or
Price. She was ‘
ma’am
’ to her face and ‘
the old
bitch
’ behind her back.

Draven nodded
as he passed her. “Ma’am.”

Her thin lips
pursed and she pressed a button on the intercom on her desk. “He’s
arrived.”

A large wooden
door with intricate etchings made up the back half of the former
unit. Whatever appearance of a psych ward it may have boasted at
one time had now become something more akin to the oval office—but
then Wade had always had a habit of behaving regal.

“Proceed,” she
said to Draven.

The door gave
way to an enormous office. On the left, sat a bar stocked with
liquor; to the right, another door that led to Wade’s bedroom. That
door always remained closed.

Wade rose up
from his desk. The window behind him let in little light, rendering
the office dark and depressing. Bookshelves lined the wall and a
credenza sat behind Wade’s plush leather chair. The stale,
half-smoked cigar in the ashtray permeated the air.

Draven stood
before the desk, stiff as a board, and saluted until Wade gestured
toward the seat on Draven’s right.

“At ease.”

“Sir, we’ve
interrogated a number of civilians.” Draven sat down in the chair.
“From what we’ve gathered, these Wrath Demons own a casino in
Detroit. Sanctuary. They either conduct business remotely or … have
another entrance that they use to access the casino—no one has ever
seen them come or go.” Disappointment in Wade’s eyes prompted
Draven to glance away. “The place is heavily guarded. Apparently,
they pride themselves on the security. No weapons inside. They’re
vengeance dealers at night, residing in some secret compound with
live-in staff that never leaves.” He huffed. “A fortress, guarded
by hellhounds. No one knew, or they were unwilling to say,
where.”

Wade’s eyes
narrowed. “Unwilling?”

“Demons,
sir.”

“Ah, yes,
well, not much you could do.” Wade picked a pen up from his desk
and pointed it at Draven. “Though, I vow to find their soft spot.”
He tossed the pen on his desk and intertwined his fingers.
“Goddamn, Ayden did her homework with these ones. These demons, do
they eat? Do they wear clothes? Where the fuck do they get them?
The mall?”

“Off radar.
Some demon bazaar that supplies them.” Draven shook his head. “None
of the demons we spoke to were willing to divulge the location of
that either.”

“They’re Wrath
Demons. They can be summoned anywhere, can’t they?” Wade’s fingers
unraveled for a moment. “Don’t we just sit in a fucktight circle
and sing for them?”

“They can. But
they’re selective about the cases.” Draven scratched at his thumb
in his lap—a nervous habit. “I suspect with Ayden involved, they’ll
be less than enthusiastic about helping us.”

“Well, hells
bells. Did you manage to scrounge anything useful or is this going
to be a goddamn waste of my time, boy?”

Draven cleared
his throat and shifted in his chair. “One did divulge some
information. Nephilim. A friend to one of the Wrath Demons.
According to him, they do take up with a female from time to
time.”

“Demon?”

“Human,
mostly.”

“Now that
is
useful.” Wade arched his brow, a wicked smile danced
across his face. He rubbed his chin. “Like to celebrate with a
little pussy after chasing dogs all night, do they?” Silence
hovered as Wade stared off, his eyes thoughtful. He crossed his
arms over his chest. “Bring Calla to my quarters immediately,
soldier.”

A sudden lump
in Draven’s chest threatened to steal his breath. “Calla, sir?”

“You heard me,
boy.” Wade tipped his head and smirked. “What’s the matter—jealous
of a few demons tappin’ your girl’s ass?”

Draven
furrowed his brow and swallowed a gulp.
Goddamn the thought of
that.
His hands curled into fists. He tamped down the emotion
sprouting in his gut. “No, sir,” he gritted. “But perhaps you might
consider Jen or—”

“Good. Bring
Calla to me. This nephilim snitch of yours, he’s a friend of the
demons, you say?”

Dryness
climbed Draven’s throat until he could hardly summon a word. He
coughed and twisted in his chair. “He wouldn’t tell me his name or
which demon he knows.”

“You know
where to find him?”

“Yessir.”