Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (30 page)

A nightshirt hung from the hook on the cupboard and he scrunched it to his face, breathing Calla’s scent that stamped out the undertones of Gavin.

Logan frowned.

A feeling of possession beat through him.

He’d give her one of his own to wear.

Resisting the urge to rip the shirt from the hanger, he left the bathroom, mind made up—he was going to find her.

Logan straightened the pillows and covers on her bed, picked his shirt up off the floor and left her room. A haze still covered his eyes as he staggered his way to his own room, stumbling and falling against the wall as the last bit of Elysia messed his system.

Never doing that shit again.

The darkness of his room eased the strain in his eyes as he burst through the door and shut it behind him.

He blinked away the glassy shield obscuring his view.

A bump protruded from his bed.

The size of a body.

Hand gripping the hilt of his dagger, he quietly edged closer.

Movement stopped him in his tracks.

Blonde locks tumbled over the edge of the blanket.

Calla?
He tipped his head and stalked to the other side of the bed.

Hell, yes it was. In his bed. Her body tangled in his sheets.

Damn the victory that surged through his blood.

One bare leg rested atop his sheets, taunting his fingertips to touch. With only half her face buried into his pillow, he could see the soft glow of her cheeks, discernible even through the darkness.

Beautiful.

Relief spread through every part of him at her being in his bed. Safe.

Wait. Why did he want her to be safe?

Logan stared, watching her breathe, realizing he could watch her for hours.

The occasional sharp inhale suggested she dreamed.

He tipped his head, longing to touch that face.

Perfect. Like an angel’s.

And he was a demon.

Damn, could there be a more definite set of opposites in the world?

His fingers curled into fists. He stalked to the bathroom. Perhaps a cold shower would settle the flames that had ignited at the sight of her.

Both guns clicked against the countertop when he stripped himself of all his weapons, followed by clothes. As Logan turned on the shower and stepped inside, water danced over him, titillating his skin. Rivulets made a path down his arm, his stomach and legs, while the water pooled in his cupped palms. Never had the sensation left him so entranced.

Before Calla.

As if his whole body had somehow come alive with the reawakening of his soul.

She’d done that to him—her blood, inside of him.

I’ll be out of your way first thing tomorrow. I promise never to come back here.
Her words from earlier echoed in his mind.

Gods, if something happened to her …

Visuals of her lying sprawled out on a concrete slab at the hands of an Enforcer, just as he’d endured all those years in Obsidius, had the acids in his stomach bubbling up again.

Kill the fucker.

The scuff of his grinding teeth scraping inside his own ear brought Logan out of the trance.

He splashed cool water into his face, hoping clarity might swim somewhere in the drops. Something that would trample the one thought surfacing in his mind—one that just two days prior would have had him doubled over in laughter:
Have to keep her safe
.

By his side at all times.

Ah, shit
. Why did he wrack his mind over the female when he needed to focus on Zeke? The thought made him want to pound his fist into the tiles.

Logan had never been one for toting around a shadow everywhere he went, but having her with him was the only way he could ensure nothing would touch her.

Aside from his own hands, that was.

As for Calla, if she so much as
thought
about fighting him on it?

Perhaps dragging her through hell might change her tune.

CHAPTER 25

Warmth hit Calla’s face and spread to her body. She yawned and stretched, the sheets tangling between her knees, and smiled as the heat intensified against her skin.

A masculine scent hit her nose—musk and woodsy.
Mmmm
.

She buried her face and inhaled, rubbing her legs together against the smooth satin.

Logan.

Wait.
Logan?

She snapped her eyes open and focused a moment on the long black drapes across the room. Her gaze trailed the windows and landed on the one that let sun shine through, where the black cat sat perched on the sill, peering out. Plain gray walls replaced the green foliage with beautiful gold trim. No statue of Diana.

Calla’s breath hitched.

She startled upright.

A squeal withered in her throat as her muscles went rigid.

In the corner, staring at her from the chair, Logan sat dressed in a black button-down shirt and dark jeans, his body slouching and knees spread open. The rise and fall of his chest told her he breathed hard. His cheek rested against his fist and the tightness of his drawn brows cast a seriously pissed off affect.

What did …

She glanced down at her own attire—nothing but a skinny black T-shirt and panties—and quickly covered herself.

How did I …

Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, God,” she murmured, scratching her head. Embarrassment flooded her insides and she lifted her knees, hiding her face in her palms. “I’m sorry.” She pulled her hands away and glanced around at the floor for her pants.

They lay in a slump beside the nightstand.

Calla scrambled to the edge of the bed and bent forward to pick them up off the floor.

Logan cleared his throat.

When she sat back upright, he shifted on the chair. His hands looked as if they were trembling.

Angry?

She’d come to know his temper as unpredictable.

“I’m sorry for taking your bed. Ayden gave me shots last night and … I’ve never had hard liquor before.” She clutched her gurgling stomach. “I’m kinda feeling sick.”

Priority number one: getting her pants on so she could leave.

Logan leaned forward, grabbed the arms of the chair, and pushed himself up. “You need to eat something.” He moved to the end of the bed.

Calla suddenly wished a hole in the bed would open up and swallow her—damn, he looked good. “I’m really not up to having breakfast with everyone. Thanks.”

“Then, I’ll bring you something to eat.” His voice carried a hoarseness. A strange contradiction to the calm way he spoke. “Stay here.”

“You don’t—”

But before she could finish, he was already out the door.

What an idiot. If this guy doesn’t end up killing me by the end of the week, I’ll be lucky
.

A tugging in her stomach had her tossing her pants on the bed and rushing into the bathroom. Mouth-to-porcelain mouth resuscitation followed. The acids burned with each torrent that flew up her throat.

Ugh
.
So embarrassing
, she thought, flushing the toilet. Good thing he’d left.

Catching her breath, she glanced around the room. Everything was clean, simple, uncluttered. Logan didn’t have all the shampoos, shaving creams and colognes that Gavin’s bathroom boasted.

Only the basics.

After quickly relieving herself, she ambled to the sink, and washed her hands and face. Nausea still bubbled in her stomach, and vertigo had the room swaying until she gripped the sink for support.

“What was I thinking?” Mentally vowing to never again put herself through such after-effects, Calla found some mouthwash in the cupboard next to the sink and swirled a cupful in her mouth. She repeated it over and over until the metallic taste coating her tongue drowned in the burning mint.

When she returned to the bedroom, she found Logan standing beside one of the bedside tables, from which he removed a silver dome to unveil a plate of eggs, pancakes, sausage links, toast.

All of it piled high. Coffee and juice sat beside those, too.

He gave her a onceover before retreating to his chair. “I don’t know if you’re one of those vegetarians, or something. I just grabbed some stuff Anna made for you and Kane.”

Her stomach growled in response, and she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the tray toward her.

Ordinarily, she’d want nothing to do with eating in front of him, but as starved as she was, for some reason it didn’t even bother her that his eyes were on her the whole time.

What did bother her, though, was the quiet. Plus the fact that her pants lay on the bed beside her. Rather than stand and give him another eyeful of her panties, though, she pulled the sheet across her lap. “Any word on Zeke?”

Logan stroked his jaw. “No.”

She nodded and stared down at her plate. Suddenly unappetizing. Her mind drifted back to the dream she’d had the night before, of Zeke hanging with his stomach torn wide open. She closed her eyes and set down the fork.

“Not hungry?”

Calla opened her eyes and huffed. “I know this doesn’t mean a damn thing to you, but I can’t stop thinking about him.”

“You think about Zeke?”

“I just mean, I can’t stop … feeling. Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

Logan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The eye of Horus tattoo on his chest peeked out of his shirt, along with half of a mean-looking skull that covered his heart. She’d seen it before, the night he’d been stabbed.

“You were right. I shouldn’t have gone that night.”

Logan rubbed his hands down his face and braced them on the arms of the chair. “You shouldn’t have. You’re fragile.” The tension in his muscles seemed to relax a bit. “But I say shit I shouldn’t say sometimes, too.”

Calla’s head snapped back in his direction.

His eyebrow kicked up.

She shook her head. “That … almost sounded like an apology.”

“I don’t make apologies. You must’ve heard me wrong.”

Calla took a bite of her sausage to smother the remark trapped in her throat that was sure to piss him off.

“You’ve never gotten drunk before?”

She shook her head.

“Never drunk. Never laid. What do you do for fun?”

She coughed, dislodging the food that’d gotten caught in her throat, and swallowed it back.

Had he just brought up the virgin thing? Jesus, since when was being a virgin such a crime?

“I didn’t know a life fulfilled was all about puking in toilets and racking up STD’s.”

An artful grin stretched his lips and he scratched his cheek. “Your memories were erased. How do you know you’re a virgin?”

The fork fell from her hand with a clang. “My God, what the hell makes you think you’re so above being civil?” Not that she was going to spill her explanations to him, but she’d become well aware of her status during routine exams that all Alexi females underwent. The last thing Wade had wanted was a bunch of pregnant soldiers.

“Only virgin blood could’ve brought me back from death. It was just a curious question about human females, is all.”

“If you want to ask curious questions, stick to the polite ones.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten, I’m a demon. I don’t know polite questions.”

“Go ahead and use that as an excuse if you want. But I know some of you are better practiced than others.”

Logan crossed his arms over his chest. “So. Polite question. What do you do when you’re not lecturing impolite bastards and slaying wolves?”

She swallowed another bite of food. “Like for fun?”

“Yeah”

“Reading. Archery. Hunting.”

“Hunting?”

She sat up straight on the bed. “Yeah. I like the quiet of the woods. We were thrown into the woods sometimes during training. Some thought of it as hell. It was the only time I felt at peace with everything.”

Silence followed and Calla’s gaze swept the room to avoid his stare. “What’s that?” She nodded toward a table in the corner with a checkered-pattern board and black and white pieces arranged across it.

He glanced to the side and back. “You’ve never played chess?”

“No. It’s a game?”

“Yes. A game of intelligence and strategy. Gavin and I play.”

“So what’s the objective of this
intelligent
game?”

“Take the other’s king.”

“Oh, yeah? Is there a queen?”

“Yes. A very powerful piece in the game, actually.”