Soul Avenged (Sons of Wrath, #1) (3 page)

Ayden rolled
her shoulders back and pushed through the door out of the
staircase. “None of your business. I just have to see
something.”

“You’re not
going to fuck him, are you?”

Ayden’s fist
connected with Zeke’s jaw in a crushing blow—crushing to her
knuckles. Killing lycans was one thing. Demons were three times as
strong. “Dammit!” she said, shaking off the sting zipping up into
her wrist.

Zeke smiled.
“Your right hook’s getting better.”

“Piss off.”
Ayden stalked through the building, cradling her fist. Something
squished beneath her heel, and she looked down to find her black
boot caught inside a half-caved ribcage. “How the hell do they
stand sleeping here?” As she lifted her boot from the bone, a
thread of mucus strung from her heel—a recent kill. “Damn.”
Glancing around at the humans sprawled out in a drug-induced
stupor, she continued on. “You’d think they’d stay away from this
place. Forensics could throw a slumber party here and find a whole
slew of shit to get them off.”

“You think
anyone’s looking for leftover ribs here?” Zeke asked. “Bet the guy
didn’t even make the news.”

Calix sniffed
the air. “They’ll be here any second. If we’re not going to kick
some ass, I suggest we haul it.”

Ayden drew her
Beretta and shot three times in the air. Ringing lingered then died
away.

No one moved.
Distant laughter reverberated off the walls before all fell silent
again.

“I tried. To
hell with all of you.” She slipped the gun back into its
holster.

Grunts and
heavy breathing rose above the thud of their boots as they moved
on. Two humans, one of them undoubtedly a prostitute, screwed
against the back wall in plain sight.

Ayden scowled.
Lambs
.

“Lucky
bastard.” Zeke chuckled. “Well, not for long, anyway. Let’s
go.”

He hoisted the
halfling over his shoulder, and the three of them jogged through
the building until they burst outside into the winter air.

The wind
brushed against Ayden’s cheeks, temperate to the blood that ran
through her veins, nothing more than a ghostly sensation drifting
across her skin— cold and heat had long been indistinguishable
perceptions to her.

A chasing echo
of screams alerted them that the wolves had emerged from the
staircase.

“Looks like
the junkies are awake,” Ayden said.

As the three
of them trudged through the snow to the side of the building, Calix
pulled a black key remote from his pocket and unlocked the sleek
black Bentley that awaited them.

Zeke opened
the passenger door, as the other two climbed in front, and tossed
the halfling in the backseat. The halfling’s body folded over on
itself as Zeke carelessly shoved him toward the other side,
smearing blood across the tan leather seats.

“What the
fuck, man?” Calix glared at Zeke through the rearview mirror.
“You’re cleaning that off when we get home.”

Zeke squeezed
in the back beside the halfling, a cramped fit for his big body,
shaking his head as the wolves approached the vehicle. “I hate
running away from a good fight. Just isn’t right.”

The wheels of
the Bentley spun against the ice and snow before gripping the road
and propelling the car forward.

A thump on the
roof forced a growl out of Calix. “My paintjob gets messed up and
we
will
be going back for a fight.”

Ayden rolled
down the window. Wind burst against her face, whipping locks of her
long brown hair into a tangled mess. She snatched the back leg of
the attacking lycan and tugged.

It slipped
against the roof, claws digging into the metal.

Calix growled
again beside her. “Damn, Ayden.”

Ayden pulled
out her Beretta.

The wolf
lurched as a competing blast of wind swept over the vehicle, but a
silver bullet in its neck stalled its movement—enough of a pause
for her to snag the lycan’s front leg and drag it from the top of
the vehicle.

Claws grappled
the air as the lycan fell to the white snow and wriggled to its
haunches as its brethren flew past in pursuit of the Bentley.

Calix floored
the gas and the car sped down the road, leaving the wolves in its
wake.

Ayden slipped
back into the passenger seat and rolled up the window. A quick
glance in the back revealed the halfling still asleep and
sweat-drenched.

That familiar
twist in her stomach surfaced again—to kill.

Her eyes
focused on its chest rising with heaving breaths and the movement
under its skin as muscles elongated and bulged. In no more than a
week, she’d be staring at another monster, like the ones that’d
gotten left behind to feed on druggies and prostitutes. She’d no
intention of allowing the halfling to live that long, though, just
enough to feed whatever curiosity churned inside her—curiosity that
left her with way too many questions.

What was it
about him that she’d abandon a perfectly good fight over a
halfling?

As if Zeke had
read her mind, he asked, “So why are we carting around this piece
of shit, anyway?”

Ayden huffed
and turned back in her seat, staring through the windshield.
“Because.”

“Because …
you’ve suddenly developed a soft spot for these bastards?”

“Bite your
tongue, asshole.” She sniffed. “I told you, I need to see
something. He’s going to teach me about halflings.”

“So, you’re
going to torture and study him before you cut his throat?”

Ayden smiled.
“Precisely.”
Better than playing some sort of nursemaid to
him
. She rolled her eyes at the mere thought.
I’d rather
gauge my eyes out with broken glass.

Zeke smirked.
“Sounds like fun.”

“So what
happened to Gavin and Logan tonight?” she asked, crossing her arms
over her chest.

Calix glanced
at her then back to the road. “Gav knew you’d back out.”

Her brows
knitted together. “What?”

“A vision he’d
had earlier in the evening. He saw us take off. Figured you didn’t
need them. And you know how Logan feels about walking away from a
fight.” Calix shrugged. “So they went out. Dickbags. Casino’s kept
me late every night this week.”

“Look, I’m
sorry I’m such a weekend drag for you, but I expect my contract to
be upheld whether you
think
I need your help, or not. I’m
not paying you jerks to sit on your asses while some bimbo bar
chick jacks you off.”

“Awww,
jealous, baby?” Zeke jibed from the back.

“Piss off,
Zeke.”

“Gods I love
it when you get mad. Fuck, it turns me on. Wanna feel?”

Ayden peeked
around the seat to the back. “Have I told you how much I love that
little clause in your contract that specifies
no sex with
clients
?”

He slouched
his shoulders. “Now you’re just being mean.” A devious smile lit up
his face. “No worries, though. Think I’ll be making a bar run
tonight.” He reached across and lightly punched Calix on the
shoulder as if to confirm before resettling, his arms stretching
across the back seat and seeming to emphasize the lack of space for
his big body. “Hey, Ayden, what do you plan to sleep in over at my
place?”

She tugged at
the black leather sleeve of her jacket. “You’re looking at it.”

“You’d be a
helluva lot more comfy in my boxers.” Zeke leaned forward again,
inches from her face. “I won’t tell Gavin,” he whispered.

“Zeke, I’d
rather wear the blood of a lycan to bed.” Her tone came out
flat.

“
Damn!
”
Calix chuckled. “Easy, killer, you’re going to make him tear
up.”

“Ayden, when
every lycan has been wiped out, you and I got some unfinished
business,” Zeke said.

“Well, lucky
me, their numbers are growing.”

Zeke sat back
and Ayden turned in her seat, not saying anything more as they
continued on toward the demons’ manor.

***

Calix pulled up
to the cast iron gates of the demon’s manor and rang the bell.
Bennett’s deformed face flashed on the screen only a second before
the gates opened.

Poor guy,
being a troll in a house full of men who looked like they’d stepped
out of a magazine must’ve been rough— but he was the best security,
and butler, money could buy. No one trespassed as long as Bennett
guarded the gates.

“I suppose
Gavin’s going to give me hell for this,” Ayden muttered.

“You know he
loves your company,” Calix said. “But yeah, I’m thinking you’ve got
some explaining to do.”

The car curved
around the circular drive and stopped in front of the gothic manor
that looked like something out of the nineteenth century.

Ayden stepped
out to snow, descending in large white flakes from the sky. She
closed her eyes and tipped her head back, allowing them to drift
onto her cheeks before opening her eyes to the massive and
elaborate architecture before her.

Floodlights
climbed the walls to the top of the mansion where stone gargoyles
peered down at them. The manor was more like a castle, or fortress,
with cameras at every angle and a crew of hell-spawn watching every
move.

She climbed
the stairs to the front door, already opened by Bennett, who tipped
his head as she passed.

“Good evening,
Miss Ayden.” He spoke in a polite but mutilated voice.

“Bennett.
You’re looking sprightly tonight.” She smiled and patted the front
of his tuxedo.

Zeke clambered
behind with the halfling in his arms, while Calix followed him,
picking at lycan blood on his jeans.

“Damn wolves,”
Calix said. “These are ruined. I’m gonna have to change before I go
out.”

“You do that,
brother. Let me shower and I’ll join you.” Zeke’s gaze trailed back
to Ayden. “Unless you’ve changed your mind about sleeping in
my
bed tonight, love.”

“Put the lycan
in my chambers, please,” she said apathetically.

“
Your
chambers? Getting a little cozy, are we, slayer?”

Her eyes
narrowed on Zeke as he passed her on his way toward the
staircase.

The inside of
the manor was magnificent. Dark medieval paintings adorned the
walls. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Lush tapestries,
imported from lands Ayden could only dream of visiting, garnished
the floors and windows, and Greek gods stared down from the
ceiling, painted with immaculate detail by old masters of the
ancients.

Nothing but
the best.

A handsome
face came around the corner, flaunting a perfect set of pecs that
peeked through a black, half-opened robe. Undoubtedly, the thin
sheen of sweat coating them indicated hours of sex with some human
flake, a favorite pastime for Wrath Demons to blow off steam. Not
that they were violent during their lovemaking, but they enjoyed
tormenting their females by keeping them from climax for hours.
Knowing Gavin, his was probably tied and blindfolded, in agony, as
she awaited his return.

Here we
go.
Ayden held her defensive stance and braced herself for an
ass reaming.

~

Kane Walker’s
lids flew open, and his heart beat so erratically, he grabbed his
chest, only to find his shirt gone. A quick mental rundown assured
him he still wore his slacks and shoes and that the pain had
subsided— for how long, he didn’t know. His body still ached,
though, as if he’d run a marathon and collapsed.

He blinked,
irritated by the diaphanous film covering his eyes, through which
only a blurry red seemed to stand out.

Where am
I?

He clutched
his throbbing head, trying to remember what happened.

It’d been
nearly ten in the evening when he’d finally left work. Bob Hatch,
head of security, had walked him to his car. He’d shaken Bob’s hand
and thanked him, then tossed his belongings into the car as the old
guard retreated back toward the hospital.

Snarls.

They’d halted
him.

He’d inched
back out of the car and turned slowly, afraid to do otherwise.

Two of the
most horrific beasts he’d ever seen stood nearly eight feet on
their hind legs, their gazes locked on him. With teeth bared, the
menace in their growls had gone straight to his spine,
crystallizing his nerves.

What the …

One of the
creatures, rust-colored, had lunged.

Deranged
silver eyes cut through the night like a blade.

An agape maw
with long, sharp canines consumed his view.

“Good God,”
he’d whispered, his last uttered words echoing in his mind before
everything had gone black.

The room
sharpened into focus, along with the blurry red that turned out to
be a velvet curtain hanging from windows perhaps twenty feet in
height. His gaze wandered the white walls decorated with gold trim,
the elaborate paintings that looked like they’d be worth a year of
his salary, the four-post bed with plush pillows and gold satin
sheets that encased him like a soft cloud. Satyrs, and whom he
assumed to be Dionysus, danced across a mural on the wall, wine
spilling from golden chalices and grapes dangling from vines that
entwined the subjects.

Am I dead? Is
this heaven?

He hoisted
himself to a sitting position with one arm, still clutching his
head that pounded in protest with the other as he pushed back
against the headboard. A stabbing pain hit the back of his neck at
his spine. He reached around until his trembling fingers probed an
opened wound. Moist red blood coated the tips when he brought them
back round, and more images struck his memory.

He sucked in a
sharp breath.

Winter air
burned his lungs.

Pain spread
like jolts of electricity from his spine all the way to his
fingertips, leaving them stiff and aching.