Soul Avenged (Sons of Wrath, #1) (5 page)

Gavin chuckled
and ushered her with his hand. “Proceed with your story.”

“He … touched
me”—the thought made her grimace—“and I saw like a dream, or a
movie, or something in my head. Like … someone’s memories.” She
shook her head. “I know, you’re going to tell me it’s a ridiculous
figment of my imagination.”

“Actually,
it’s called imprinting,” Gavin said with a shrug of his
shoulders.

“Imprinting?”
Ayden shrugged back, a mocking gesture. “What’s that?”

“The lycan
that bit your little prince of wolves upstairs passed on some of
his memories through the venom. It happens sometimes. When they
murder a human, they acquire the soul, and, many times, the
memories.”

“Why have I
never experienced this before?”

“When was the
last time you ran into a halfling?”

“Is it only a
halfling thing?”

“It depends on
the human that was bitten. Some are just an open vessel for
imprinting. The memories can fade after their change. But sometimes
they don’t. If the wolves are in tune to them, they can use them as
a weapon.”

Ayden frowned.
“What kind of weapon?”

“Power of
persuasion. Catch their victims off guard or torment them with the
memories—make them doubt.”

“You think
he’s trying to torment me?”

Gavin shook
his head. “Not likely. He probably doesn’t even know what he
is
yet. I suspect he’s just now remembering the details of
what happened to him.”

She couldn’t
help but smile. “And how did you become so knowledgeable on the
topic?”

“A couple of
centuries, you pick shit up.”

Ayden brushed
her hand against the dagger at her hip. “Something about those
memories, though. They were familiar to me. Like I knew the victim.
Not just
watching
these things happen. I actually
felt
them.” She caught a glimpse of Gavin staring down at
her. “Stupid, I know.”

“Ayden,
understandably, you’re curious. But, keep in mind, he’ll get
stronger. He’ll become more violent. And if by some miracle he
manages to escape our compound alive, he could lead them to
us.”

“If he was
bitten recently, then he’s got a week before his change. That’s all
I’m asking for. By the end of seven days, I’ll cut his throat out
myself. I just … want to see what he’s got. See if any of his
memories are useful. If not, I’ll get rid of him.”

Gavin pushed
off the desk, bent forward and set his hands on the armrest at
either side of her body, his face close to hers as he leaned over
her.

Ayden backed
against the chair. Dizziness swept over her as she focused on his
parted lips. His breath, a warm cinnamon scent, emitted the
pheromones demons used to attract their females. A couple hits of
the stuff and she’d willingly join him and the bimbo in his
bed.

Fight it.

Eyelids heavy,
she shivered and crossed her legs.

“Seven days,
slayer,” he said, his voice like a drug. “Have your fun with him.
And if you fail to kill him, know that I’ll cut out both your
throats.”

Ayden’s breath
hitched as his words struck her like a slap to the face. She broke
from her trance and her jaw hardened.
Fool
. The pheromones
always left her weak and vulnerable.

“Now if you’ll
excuse me, I have a human to fuck.” A flash of red flickered in his
eyes, and he straightened, retying his robe before he strode from
the room.

Alone, she
rose from the chair, leaned forward against the desk and ran her
hand through her hair. “Know that I’ll cut both your throats out,”
she muttered mockingly. “Psh. Try.”

The back of a
picture frame caught her attention and she plucked it off the
desktop and flipped it over, staring down at the black and white
photograph Gavin had snapped of her unwittingly crouching with a
camera to her eyes.

They’d met
three years ago when she happened to stumble into his casino while
scouting a lycan. Gavin had stepped in when Ayden refused to give
up her weapons to the bouncer at the door. Sanctuary, the casino,
was just that—the safest place any human or immortal could hang
out. The seven brothers, all sons of the demon prince, Wrath,
ensured no one roused trouble on their turf. Turned out an entire
hierarchy of demons existed in the netherworld. Not all of them
entirely
evil.

Damn near
every supe living in the natural world, though, revered the sons of
Wrath. Lady-killing men in suits by day, they became something else
entirely at night—vengeance dealers for hire. Their reputation
spread like flames through the streets, each demon with his own
brand of pain etched in demon script somewhere on his body.
Violence came with punishment. And mercy wasn’t part of a Wrath
Demon’s genetic makeup.

On the other
hand, their sex appeal, weaved into every fiber of their being,
could render an unsuspecting female wanton. For the most part, they
appeared to be human, aside from their very
inhuman
physical
attractiveness. Intelligent and successful, debonair men in suits,
who smelled good and talked smooth … yeah, like walking lollipops
in a gaggle of eager mouths. So, to keep their business affairs
from becoming too personal, Gavin enforced a ‘no sex with clients’
clause. Because no species was immune to their charms, not even
Ayden’s. Had she not fought against her desires, she may have ended
up Gavin’s mate—an eternal bond that would only be broken by
death.

Ayden set the
picture back on the desk and made her way out into the hallway. Her
gaze trailed upward toward the closed bedroom door to the left of
the staircase.

The lycan’s
room.

I won’t fail.
The lycan will die tonight.

~

Venom from the
bite of a lycan entered directly into the bloodstream. It invaded
the human cells, taking over the synthesis of proteins that
resulted in muscle building, antibody production—every normal human
process. Natural occurrences no one really thought or cared
about.

Until they
became a victim, too.

Seven days was
the average time for the change to reach completion. During those
days, a halfling would be subjected to the most grueling pain
imaginable, far worse than even labor pains, and unaffected by the
most potent painkillers in existence. Bones lengthened, muscles
strengthened and the body transitioned to immortal. Wounds
spontaneously healed, and any infection percolating at the time of
the transformation would be wiped out by the stronger lycan
antibodies. The proteins in the venom mutated human DNA, then
integrated and remained dormant until activated at will by the
lycan.

At will.

Not by the
light of the full moon.

Whenever the
hell they felt like it.

Although a
lycan held the ability to shift into any animal, those turned
usually opted for wolves, sticking in packs that would increase the
odds of their survival.

Because a lone
lycan was a dead lycan.

Ayden stalked
into the room, stopping in her tracks as she approached Bennett,
bent over and holding a cloth soaked in blood and something else as
he scrubbed the floor.

The halfling
lay unconscious in the bed to Bennett’s right.

“What’s this?”
she asked.

Bennett turned
with a grimace. “Halfling puke. Apparently Master Logan found
him.”

She chuckled
at that. “Logan likes to steal my thunder.”

Bennett
finished up, grabbed the bottle of disinfectant beside him and
nodded to Ayden. “Good evening, miss.”

“Thank you,
Bennett.” She patted him on his deformed hunchback as he hobbled
past her and out of the room. The stomach-wrenching smell trailed
behind him even once he’d closed the door, and nose wrinkled, Ayden
trained her narrowed eyes on the halfling lying in the bed.

His body,
though twice as muscled as the last time she’d seen him, had a
pasty white and sickly appearance while blue lips framed his agape
mouth.

Pathetic.

She crossed
her arms and paced the room. The thud of her black boots kept a
steady rhythm, almost lulling her into a trance. She paused,
touching the dagger at her side, and shoved the bed with her boot.
“Lycan!” she shouted firm. “Wake.”

He didn’t
stir.

“Lycan! Damn
you. I command you to wake!” The full tone of her voice bounced
through the room.

Still, the
male, drenched in blood, sweat and his own vomit, didn’t move.

Did Logan kill
him?

That familiar
twitch in her muscles surfaced.

Destroy.

She didn’t
dare touch him. Instead, she hoisted her boot and kicked his leg.
“Wake up!”

The halfling
winced and squirmed beneath the covers. His eyes slid to half-mast
but quickly shut and he stilled once more.

Ayden’s jaw
tightened as she watched him. “I could kill you now, lamb. Your
bones would break at my fingertips.”

“Then kill
me.” His voice, though weakened and gravelly, carried softly across
the room.

The words only
stoked her smoldering ire. “You wish to be killed? Without a
fight?” She spat on him. “Weak lamb.”

He slowly
shook his head, his eyes only partially opened, as though
threatening to roll back into unconsciousness again. “I won’t fight
you. I’m yours to kill.”

Ayden crossed
her arms over her chest, her jaw jutted out. “Then I won’t give you
the satisfaction of mercy now. I’ll wait until you’re ready to
fight, and you
beg
me for your life. And then I’ll break
every bone left in your body.”

Eyes closed,
he turned away from her.

What are you
waiting for, Ayden? Kill him.

The noise
rattled in her brain, an unyielding clamor that beat against her
temples. She rubbed them.

And those
memories?

Damn, she
needed to get out of there.

The mere sight
of him incited an intense craving to ram her fist through the
walls—or worse—but that would only lead to Gavin being pissed that
she’d punched the walls and ruined his irreplaceable mural, and
Bennett having to clean and patch the mess.

Gritting her
teeth, she left the room and made her way down to the gym. Maybe
punching
something
would free her of the thoughts racing
through her mind.

The gym, or
Wreck Room, as the demons referred to it, had everything a
killer-in-training could possibly want. Punching bags, weight
benches, treadmills, dummies for sparring, even a full-size pool. A
quick swim would calm her nerves but that would mean swimming
naked—not the best idea in a house full of demons who’d smell the
essence of her bare flesh like a drop of blood in a shark tank.

Removing her
leather jacket on her way to the sparring dummy left Ayden in only
her hoodie and white shirt. As she squared off with the limbless
torso, scenes of trainings past reverberated through her mind.

“
Pivot,
Ayden, and use the power and momentum in your thighs to kick.”
Wade, her teacher, stood in a defensive stance as he awaited her
kick.

Ayden snapped
her leg into his side. Her body fell back onto the floor, as she
suffered the blow of his punch to her ribs, the wind knocked from
her lungs. She winced and grabbed her chest, taking long, steady
breaths.

“
Exposed
yourself to me. Didn’t recoil that knee like I told ya.” Wade
chuckled.

“
I doubt
lycans will be going all Bruce Lee on me, Wade. They fight like
girls. Shouldn’t you be teaching me how to block a swipe from a
claw instead?”

Wade reached
down, offering his hand to help her up, and she allowed him to pull
her to a stand.

His hand
squeezed hers just before a kick rendered her unable to breathe
again, forcing her to drop to her knees. “Lycans ain’t the only
thing you’ll ever fight in your life. Question my teaching again
and I’ll give you a week in solitary.”

Lost in each
swing of her fists, Ayden punched the dummy. Fighting relaxed her
mind and eased the tension in her muscles. The dummy jostled and
took the beating without protest as her limbs snapped like shots of
lightning, quick and accurate. Each series of movements came
naturally to her, needing little concentration as to what she’d do
next. Unfortunately, that left her mind far too free.

The staccato
of harsh whispers in her ear clenched her stomach. She swallowed a
gulp and forced herself to block them out. Her eyes diverted to the
side, flitting back to centre at a sharp punch to her abdomen. She
sucked in a breath through her nose to keep from curling in on
herself.

The glint of a
blade beneath the glaring overhead lights flashed in her eyes.

Her body
trembled.

“
Remember
their teeth, slicing through your innocent flesh,” the voice
hissed.

A pop of pain
preceded the burn as the knife pressed into her thigh and sliced
upward.

She didn’t
dare cry out. The points would be costly, meaning she’d have to
suffer through it all again.

Reconditioning, Wade had called it. From death to new life. Some
spent weeks in the gore of these exercises. She had nearly finished
with them—and, up to that moment, had earned the highest number of
points that any Alexi soldier could ever hope for.

She wouldn’t
dare ruin her record with weakness. Not in the homestretch.

Wade had saved
the best for last, though. As a master at mind games, he knew how
to test the resolve of a soldier. Few made it to the final
exercise. Whether or not she succeeded would determine her rank,
though Wade had already made his plans clear.

He’d been
preparing her for months to be his second-in-command.

The knife
stilled but the burn lingered a moment before dissolving into
numbness—a distraction she longed for once more.