Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (22 page)

He stabbed his thigh with the dagger at the same time he called out her name, chased by a string of curses, as the pain detonated his orgasm and pushed him over the edge.

* * *

A scream ripped through Calla’s chest. She bolted up and kicked back against the pillows, head snapping back and forth.

A shadow moved across the wall and she covered herself with the blanket as tremors danced inside her muscles.

Just a dream.

She drew in a long, shaky breath. It was just a dream.

“Oh, Zeke.” She rested her head on her knees and palmed the fang marks on her shoulder. “Please let them find you.” She clutched her stomach.

A light brush past her arm had Calla jumping and her heart jackrabbiting.

A black cat settled beside her on the bed, its yellow eyes examining her as if to ask if she was all right. She released the breath she’d been holding and sagged with relief. Must’ve been the cat that Logan had seen in his room.

“Where did you come from?” She reached out to pet it, but the cat dodged her hand and padded toward her legs. “Aren’t you just as friendly as can be?”

It sat at the end of the bed, licked its paws and rubbed behind its ears where her fingers had brushed.

The second time her touch had been rejected.

“Fine. But you’re not sleeping in this bed with me either, then.” She scrambled forward.

The cat sprung away and prowled toward the door, disappearing out into the hallway.

Calla let out one long exhale and rubbed her temples, before wriggling back beneath the covers. No way she’d fall asleep again, though. Not with that hunter’s black beady eyes burned into her memory.

She rolled on her side and stared off at the sculpture in the corner of the room.

Maybe Logan was right. If it’d been anyone else, someone stronger, so many people may not have had to suffer for her weakness. Had she stood up to Wade, Jacob might be alive.

Had she stuck around and gotten Zeke loose, he’d be home, instead of facing whatever fate awaited him—then Logan might not hate her so much.

Logan.

The way he looked at her in the gym—like she was cheap and low. Nothing more than a pathetic, ignorant female.

She scowled and turned on to her back.

I’ll show you
.

By killing Draven, she’d show all of them what kind of Alexi soldier thrived in her blood. Maybe then Logan would see her for what she truly was inside.

CHAPTER 18

Logan paced his room with nervous energy—what might come of his brother had his mind firing in all directions.

Gods, he’d explode into million demon parts soon, if he didn’t do something.

Pacing the room wouldn’t get Zeke’s ass back home, though—he needed to get the hell out of there.

A shadow in the hallway slinked past his bedroom door.
Gavin?

He rushed forward and peeked around his doorframe.

Calla
.

Logan focused on her smooth, slender legs as she descended the stairs, and waited until she reached the last step before he slipped through the door and followed behind her.

Like the goddamn pied piper, she led him along.

Two days ago he couldn’t stand the female, and there he was chasing after her legs like some horn-dog looking to get his hump on.

Down the hall, past the kitchen, she finally reached the library and disappeared inside.

Logan remained in the hallway for a moment, peeping around the corner to find her leaned forward in a chair, those legs crossed over one another as she ran her hand through her hair.

Fucking beautiful.

He stepped inside.

Calla did a double glance and jumped back in her seat, nearly falling ass over applecart.

His muscles tensed for a second and his hand jerked at his side, until she caught herself and stood.

“I’m sorry. Anna … she set this book out for me and I ... I’ll leave.” Calla bowed her head with a scowl and walked toward him.

Logan threw his arm out to block her passage, and she bumped right into him.

A look of horror danced across her face, which morphed into clamped lips, as if angel wings and steel balls battled inside her head. “Excuse me.”

“What are you reading?” Damn, did his voice have to sound so husky right then?

She glanced back at the book, still open on the table. “Just some mythology.”

He rounded her, and keeping his finger on the displayed page, he flipped the book closed, recognizing the goddess on the cover. “Artemis?”

“Or Diana. Depending on ...” Her voice trailed off as he glanced over his shoulder at her.

Logan reopened the book to its page and turned to face her, folding his arms over his chest. “What’s the fascination?”

Calla shrugged. “She was a great hunter.”

“You like to hunt?”

She blew out a breath and tipped her head, arms crossed, mirroring his stance. “Look. It doesn’t take a genius to know you’re not exactly
fond
of me.” Her eyes met his. Had he ever seen a more stunning shade of blue? “I’ll be out of your way first thing tomorrow. I promise never to come back here. You can even have Calix erase my memory of this place.” Being an incubus, Calix possessed the power to erase a person’s short-term memory.

Knowing he needed to make his move then, Logan stalked back toward her, silent. Determined.

She frowned and backed up against the wall as he intentionally invaded her personal space. “I’m … what are you …?” Calla put her fists up—as if she would
fight
him?

He glanced down at them. “What do you plan to do with those?”

“I’m not afraid of you, just so you know.”

He curled his lip at that and moved closer, crowding her until her fists were pressed against his chest. He dwarfed her petite frame and bit back the cock-swelling excitement at the thought of her fighting him.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she sucked in a sharp breath and turned her face away.

Logan tilted his head. “What are you doing?”

The tension that seemed to run through her body bled into her voice as she said, “I’m not letting you use whatever that was you pulled in the gym.”

Gods, he wanted to laugh at that. His lip tightened to choke back the urgency in his throat and he swallowed it away. “You want me to let you go?”

“No. I happen to like being trapped against the wall by a demon who hates my guts.”

Again he stifled laughter and sniffed, his gaze falling momentarily to the mounds that peaked her T-shirt, where her erect nipples gave a hint that she was turned on. How badly he wanted to see them.

He lifted his gaze back to her. “I don’t hate your guts.”

She didn’t respond.

Logan leaned in, his lips already tingling from the impending feel of hers against them. He’d never been a kisser before, didn’t much care for it, but suddenly he had to know what that pouty mouth felt like
, tasted
like.

She snapped her head so far away from him, her other cheek must’ve been smashed right up against the wall, and her hand pressed into his chest.

Logan froze with Calla’s cheek at his opened mouth. His tongue puckered with the urge to lick and bite down on her jaw as an orange scent filled his nose, driving a need to suck it from the air and drink it.

“What do you think you’re you doing?” She kept her lips from his face but lowered her hands from his chest.

His attention followed their descent, watching them fall to her side, already yearning to feel them again as his eyes trailed back to hers.

Keeping stiff against the wall, she twisted to face him. Her stare held defiance as it bored into him.

Fear?

Maybe.

Resistance?

No doubt.

The female had rebellion written all over her face, a charming beauty that probably left a lot of guys holding their dicks.

He wanted so badly to touch that place where her hand had rested against his chest. Instead, he ground his teeth, growing impatient with the need to feel her. “Kiss me.”

Her eyes widened a moment, and she tilted her chin up. “No.”

Just like that.

Logan couldn’t remember the last time a female had denied him. At least in the last few years, the mere knowledge that he was one of the Sons had awarded him a groupie following. “I have ways of making you do whatever I want.”

“Yeah, I noticed. You still don’t have my permission, though.”

Permission?

He pushed himself away from the wall, away from her, and crossed his arms over his chest as her gaze tracked him.

His own gaze swept over those palm-perfect breasts, down to the honey-toned legs; one inched out from the other, slightly bent at the knee, just itching for him to grab hold and hike it up over his hipbone.

Man, the female was a piece of work.

He sniffed and swiped at his nose. “And how does one earn
permission
to kiss you?” He laughed inwardly at such a thing.

“By asking for it.”

Logan cocked a brow at her.

Ask? Hell, no
.

No way would he beg for something that he could easily take. He’d just use his pheromones on her and then she’d be willing to do just about anything he
commanded
.

Only down side to that was the Bullshit Buzz would make her nothing but a mindless fuck. Maybe he wanted her to feel him. To conquer that resistance and see the lust on her face as she submitted to him.

Willingly.

Logan chewed on the inside of his mouth, contemplating, locking a hard stare on her.

Calla stood quietly, her eyes trailing everywhere else in the room except on him. Damn, she was cute. The whole exercise of self-control had Logan’s dick about ready to climb out of his pants and take her on its own.

He lurched toward her, palms flat against the wall on either side of her.

She straightened her back stiff to the wall, as he pressed into her body, so small, curving into parts of his like two halves of a puzzle.

His attention trailed down to her lips—those voluptuous lips that beckoned him like candy for just one taste. “I’m not the asking type. If I want something, I take it. No questions.”

“Then do what you gotta to do. You still don’t have my permission.”

She had to be fucking kidding. Who was she, anyway? Nothing but a human. Weak.

He was a demon. Not just any demon—the son of the most badass demon in the underworld. He didn’t have to ask for a damn thing.

Demons didn’t require
permission.

So why the hell did her request bother him so much?

Still caught in the cage of his arms, she nibbled on her lip.

How badly he wanted to suck that lip into his own mouth and bite it. “May I …” Logan double blinked and cleared his throat. “May I kiss you?” Christ the words sounded so stupid in his head. Didn’t matter what she said, he’d do it, anyway. Mostly, he asked out of curiosity.

Her jaw jutted out just before her lips pursed. “Yes. You may.”

He hesitated for only a second then cupped her jaw. That mouth mesmerized him, plump and heart-shaped. He ran his thumb across her lip and tipped his head, eyes riveted on the softness sure to catapult him into hard cock overdrive.

With the ass-riding urgency of a ticking clock, Logan leaned in quickly before she could change her mind.

Warm pulses of heat fell light against his mouth. He breathed it in and placed his lips against hers.

Motherfu …

He squeezed his eyes shut and pounded his fist against the wall.

Calla jerked against him.

The growl in his throat reflected the aggression spreading through his body as, like a key unlocking the dark and twisted realms of his imagination, her kiss rattled something inside of him, crawled across his skull, and teased the angry beast.

Take
.

It chanted in his head like devils coaxing him to debauch her.

Resurrected from a dead slumber.

In those seconds of her lips claiming his, a glaring fact settled over him: the woman could easily own him. She could have him lapping milk straight from the palm of her hands.

Because that raging beast of his? It mewled like a kitten at the thought of breaking the connection with her.

He fused his mouth tighter, as if drawn by some magnetic force between them—his depraved monster craving her sweet innocence—and within seconds, the kiss turned greedy, violent.

So many years he’d gone without that exquisite feeling. Never knowing the softness and taste of a woman.