Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (31 page)

“Why’s that?” Calla rested her chin on the palm of her hand.

“She’s versatile and can move in any direction, which makes her a good defender of the king.”

Calla frowned. “That’s interesting.”

“What’s that?”

“You’d think it’d be the other way around. The king protects her.”

“We talkin’ real life, or chess?”

She shook her head. “Never mind. I didn’t realize you liked games like that.”

“You thought I was just an ignorant thug who likes beating the shit out of stuff.”

“Well, kind of.” Calla lay her cutlery on the plate, too full to eat any more. She’d eaten most of the eggs and pancakes, leaving just a few bites of the sausage and bacon. “Thank you for bringing me breakfast. Guess I was hungry, after all.”

Logan nodded.

“I’ll get out of your way. I’m leaving today.”

He ran his hand through his short-cropped hair and over his chiseled jawline. “Shower.”

“Excuse me?” She pushed the tray back from the bed and stood, his eyes trained on her the whole time.

“Shower first. And get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

“Where?” Her dubiousness morphed into confusion.

“Doesn’t matter. Get in the shower. Now.”

Ayden’s words danced through her head.
Don’t let him give you crap. Stand your ground and he’ll respect you.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”

He frowned and shot up from the chair. “Yes.”

“I don’t take commands from anyone, anymore. That includes you.”

The flicker of anger that altered his brown bedroom eyes into a flash of red had her pulse hammering. He lunged toward her and paused, his fingers curled into fists at his side. In a snap, the creepy demon face disappeared, replaced by what she surmised to be a forced calm in his eyes and otherwise stiff jawline. “
Please
. Get in the shower.”

Calla pondered her next move. His stare and the way he tipped his head forward as he spoke told her he had no intentions of backing down.

“Shower, or not, you’re coming with me,” he said before she could respond. “The streets are no place for a young female. Even an Alexi.”

“I’m a hunter. A soldier. I don’t need—”

“You’ll be
hunted
.” He gave a jerk of his head toward the door. “You think lycans are the only things out there?”

No. She’d seen lots of things sure to keep her sleepless for a while, including a big scary ass demon hunter. But how long would she let those nightmares consume her? “My brother’s killer is out there and I will find him.”

Logan crossed his arms. “At your own expense?”

“If it comes to that, yes.”

“Interesting.” He scratched his chin. “What makes you so willing to die?”

Since when do you care?
“Look, I’m not asking for your permission to leave.”

“Good, because you don’t have my permission.”

Leave. Don’t leave. Was the guy serious?

She shook her head and tromped toward the door but halted. “That makes no sense.” Calla paused, eyeing the pants she’d forgotten on the bed, all too aware of his gaze falling to her mostly naked body. “In fact, you know what? None of what you do or what you say makes any sense to me, at all. You’re a frickin’ puzzle. The kind that makes a person want to stand up and throw you across the room because you drive them so crazy!”

He stepped toward her. “Go ahead.”

“Go ahead, what?” She scowled.

“Throw me across the room.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re like, three times my size.” Though, in all honesty, Calla kind of liked the playful tone in his voice.

She continued a determined walk out the door, but hands gripped her arms, lifting her up off the floor.

Natural instincts had her kicking and squirming in his grasp.

His face buried her hair and his inhale hit her nape.

Something dark rose from the pit of her stomach. A switch went off in her head and a golden haze clouded her eyes. She snapped and jerked her head back, knocking Logan in the face. With an abrupt twist, her arm came free and she jack-hammered him in the throat.

Released, she came at him, punching, kicking. Each swing of her fist and legs perfectly executed, just like she’d been trained on the dummy—every attempt, swatted away by Logan’s equally executed defenses.

Unfortunately, the brawny male was no dummy.

An upward curve of his lip made for a taunting, slap-worthy smile. Like she was nothing. Swatting at a fly.

He grabbed hold of both her wrists and held them in the air. She tugged and wrenched her arms to no avail. Her body finally flagged in defeat.

“I’d be careful if I were you. I consider this foreplay.” The dimples in both his cheeks deepened.

She shot him a glare, hoping he didn’t notice how his words had magically stiffened her nipples. “Let go of me.”

“Not until you agree to come with me.” His gaze fell from hers.

Yep. He noticed. “Why are you doing this Logan?”

“I don’t have to give you my reasons.” He lowered her hands, still holding them in his grasp. “You can shower in here. I’ll leave you alone.” He finally released his hold.

“Now, why would I do that when I have a perfectly good shower in my own room?”

Logan cocked a brow and took two steps back. He swiped her pants off the bed, walked past her, opened the door and tossed them out into the hallway—somewhere beyond Zeke’s room, she guessed. “Suit yourself.”

Calla took a deep breath and shook her head on the exhale.

Damn him.

She glided her fingers beneath her panty line to make sure her ass was as covered as it was going to be, then walked right past him with a defiant tilt of her chin as she held his gaze. “See you in thirty,” she said as she slipped out into the hallway.

* * *

Calla took her time getting dressed. She was finished with a man telling her where to be and when.

So, why was she headed in the direction of the demon’s room, anyway?

Face facts
. Something about the male crawled beneath her skin and set her alive.

She’d been exhilarated in the moment he grabbed hold of her. The excitement of fighting him. The thrill of trying. Even if he could pummel her in one swift move, the danger in all of it had her burning on the inside. Not in a bad way.

What did that say about her?
You’re glutton for abuse, Calla.

His incredible strength, and that confident smirk she just wanted to … kiss.

Kiss?

She stared through the foyer window at the snow falling as she took a step down the staircase—the aimless drift of the flakes happened to be the perfect metaphor at that moment.

What the hell am I doing?

As if in answer, Logan approached from behind, his skin flushed and chest heaving. “Ready?” The slight limp to his walk didn’t escape her attention.

Calla nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’re late.”

“I didn’t realize I was being timed.”

“As a businessman, I like to be timely.”

“Well, I’m not a client, or your employee, therefore I’m not on your time clock.”

He smiled. “Touché.”

The distinct weight of eyes settled on her, as he followed her down the stairs.

The McLaren sat out front when they exited the mansion, and Logan opened the door, allowing her to slip inside, before rounding the car.

Weird
. He didn’t strike her as the
door-opening
type. Calla watched him pass the front of the car; he looked like a hit man in his black shirt, dark jeans and sunglasses.

Damn.

The sight of him had her crossing her legs to stamp out the sudden clenching of her thighs.

He sat down beside her, his cologne instantly tickling her nose. She drank in the sight of him for a moment as he started the car, revved the engine and threw it in gear, only glancing away when the vehicle took off down the drive, barely clearing the slow-opening gates.

“Come on, Logan, just drop me off downtown. What’s this about?”

“I don’t have to tell you shit.” He rubbed his chin, his eyes directed somewhere in the neighborhood of her thighs. “Why do you want to leave so bad?”

“And I don’t have to tell you shit, either.”

“Sorry, princess, that only works with demons. Spill it.”

As much as she wanted to keep this no-tell game in play, a part of her wanted to say the words—to drive her subconscious mind into the act by saying it aloud. “Draven killed my brother. I intend to kill Draven.”

“You referring to the little prick that stabbed me? He’s my kill.”

“My kill. My kill,” she mocked. “You sound like some kind of prehistoric hit man.”

Logan’s cheek dimpled but didn’t blossom into a smile. “Let’s just say that I
let
you have a go at him—”

“Let me?” She leaned back against the window and crossed her arms. “What makes you think I’m asking your permission? I get a kill shot, I’m taking it.”

His onceover, tits to legs, followed by a lick of his lips, had her squirming on the inside. “You’re fucking cute as hell when you’re feisty.” His gaze swung toward the road then back on her.

Warmth tingled in her cheeks at the same time that her stomach fluttered like she’d ingested a brawling swarm of butterflies. She snapped her head to the side, diverting her attention toward the window, hoping he didn’t catch the sudden flush.

“What would you do? If he was yours to kill. How would you do it?”

She glanced back and frowned. “Why are you asking me this?”

“I’m a demon. A sick fuck. This shit turns me on.”

“He’s the reason my brother is dead.” Calla twisted to face him again. “Jake suffered a slow and painful death. So will Draven.”

“My kind of girl.” Damn the look on his face turning her defenses into goo. “So, your brother. How’d he die?”

“Lycans. Jake would be alive if Draven hadn’t dragged him along on his little crusade.”

“You think he dragged him? From what I hear, the Alexi camp was worse than death. What makes you think he didn’t want to go himself?”

Not that what he said had been all that bad, but for some reason, she turned away at the tingling in her eyes that warned of tears. “Because he wouldn’t have left if he thought for one second that I would return.”

“Cue the guilt.”

Her eyes sliced back in his direction. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You blame yourself for his death. It’s written all over your face.”

Bastard
. “Stop the car. I want out.”

“Saw the scars on your wrist. Why’d you stay?”

“I swear to God I’ll jump from this car if you don’t pull over right now.” She gripped the handle.

Logan reached across, setting her hand back in her lap, rubbing his palm against her skin. She took heaving breaths, the only effort she could muster to keep from crying.

He glanced over.

Silence hung in the air.

Calla pushed emotions down with thoughts of Draven. How she would slice the dagger across his throat.

Logan cleared his throat, and her hands balled at her sides, preparing for what followed. “I’m a dick, okay?”

Okay, not what she expected.

She scratched at her arm through the jacket. A grotty building flew by beyond the window when she lifted her head. “Yeah. Okay.”

“You fascinate me. It’s been a long time since a female fascinated me.”

“Well, take a picture. I’m not some zoo animal for you to study. Find another girl to get your rocks off to.”

“I like you.”

Her stomach clenched, and she shifted in her seat as warmth settled over her thighs, her leather pants squeaking against the leather seats. “Well, you have a crappy way of showing it.”

“I know. I’m not good with people. Friends?”

“I didn’t know we were friends to begin with.”

“Maybe we weren’t. I’d like to be now.”

“That I’m leaving?” She glanced over.

He sniffed and the way his thumb brushed his nose threw off a mafia vibe. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“I don’t think so.”

“No more bullshit from me. I’m Mr. Charming for the rest of the day, and you don’t leave until tomorrow.”

“No deal. Look, I appreciate you trying to
clearly
go out of your way here. But I have a brother to avenge.”

“I’ll help you. No contract. Just me.”

She furrowed her brow. “What’s the catch?”

“You stay with me tonight.”