Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (37 page)

Those demure, blue eyes smiled back at him. A natural beauty, like she didn’t even have to try. Holding her hand in his, he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles and he led her into the mansion, his heart pounding in his chest with excitement as he tried to imagine every caress on his skin, her breasts pressed against his chest, her hair across his cheek.

They passed Ben at the door, and Logan came to an abrupt halt.

Something in the air had changed, as if the barometric pressure suddenly dropped—a storm had arrived.

Clutching Calla’s hand, Logan sliced through the layer of tension and stalked straight to its source: Gavin’s office.

A heave of the door, and Logan’s suspicions were confirmed. In the chair across from Gavin sat his brother, Ferno.

Gavin’s eyes shot a warning.

It’d been months since Logan had seen his brother last. Both Ferno and Maddox had taken off to Europe after the freak accident that resulted in the death of Zayne’s mate, Shey.

Ferno’s head turned to the side.

Goddamn, the scars overpowered what could have been a decent enough appearance. The one that caught Logan’s eye stretched below his chin.

Sudezx. The equivalent of human suicide and the most punishable crime known to demons. The slight pink of the scar indicated a fresh cut, too.

His right eye strained against the deformity of his skin—one that been inflicted by Shey in an attempt to save her own life—as a reminder every time the poor bastard looked in the mirror.

Calla’s grip tightened in Logan’s.

Yeah, Ferno had that effect. His body gave off a
stay-the-hell-back-if-you-know-what’s-good-for-you
vibe that had always made him a very effective mercenary throughout the centuries. Built like an ancient warrior and covered in black leather, he carried himself like some big, badass biker of the underworld. His tattoos didn’t help that persona, either—all pissed-off looking skulls and scorpions. He’d have been the perfect specimen for scaring the hell out of females, if not for the fact that being Wrath’s son gave him a decent package under all that shit.

Every scar told a story, because most times an assault to a demon’s body healed back to flawless skin.

Only the really nasty weapons from the demon realm could inflict the kind of damage he sported.

Beautifully scarred
, Shey had once called him.

“I see Mad Dog’s been looking out for you real well,” Logan said.

“He’s alive, isn’t he?” The familiar velvet voice came from behind, and Logan’s gaze darted left, toward where his brother Maddox sat stretched across Gavin’s couch. “Who the fuck do you think stopped his stupidity?”

Ferno kept silent and turned back to face Gavin.

The low rumble of Gavin and Ferno resuming conversation droned as background noise, while Maddox rose up from the couch, a smooth, almost cocky swagger to his step as he approached. Like a soldato or mafioso. Brother even wore a crucifix that dangled from the same chain as his Wrath charm.

When his arms flew to the side and his lip kicked up into a smile, Logan snorted and punched him in the arm. “How you been, feshjule?”

“Better when we find Zeke.”

Maddox’s attention shifted to Calla for a brief moment, and like a crazy bastard, Logan’s muscles tensed. He shook it off, remembering Gavin’s words back in the kitchen at Sanctuary.

A bonded male would kill his own blood, which made Ferno a walking miracle. Zayne must’ve been bestowed the patience and willpower of the gods to keep from killing the demon.

Logan released Calla’s hand, noticing the tremble in his own, the disconnection proving to himself that he hadn’t
bonded
with Calla.

Maddox bent forward to kiss the top of her hand. “E chi sarà mai questa bella fanciulla?”

Not the fucking Italian
. The panty-drenching language of the sex gods for most females—and Maddox shot her a wink to cap it off.

Bastard.

Calla smiled. “Wow. I have … no idea what you just said.”

Logan sneered at that.

“Forgive me, bella. It’s been a while since I laid eyes on a vision of fine art. Been hanging around this thug too long.” He jerked his head back in Ferno’s direction before pointing a finger at Logan. “This bastard gives you any trouble, you come find me, hear?”

“Logan,” Gavin called from across the room. “I got a feeling. This girl the nephilim mentioned.” Gavin leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Until we catch that little shit Draven after Calla, I want her guarded.”

“I’m fine,” Calla argued. “If Draven comes for me, I’ll be ready.”

“Who’s this Draven?” Mad Dog asked.

“Asshole that stabbed me with Demortis.” Logan grumbled.

Maddox’s gaze swung back toward Calla. “Bella, I got a feeling at least five other brothers will be on his ass before you even take the first swing, if that feshjule tries to get inside this house again.” He sniffed. “Just sayin’.”

“Calla, you are quite capable of taking care of yourself.” Gavin spoke calmer than before. “Having Logan with you is merely an added measure of protection and some piece of mind.”

True that
. Logan didn’t want her leaving his side any more than Gavin. “We were attacked by two paleskins at Sanctuary. Down in the garage. Pretty sure the same bastards that got away last night.”

“You kill them?” Gavin asked.

“One of them. The other nearly flashed off with Calla.” Logan’s stomach knotted up again as he said it.

A smugness filled Gavin’s eyes, silently saying,
guess you’ll follow my orders, asshole
. “All the more reason to stay with her.”

Nodding his ascent, Logan tugged Calla’s arm, and led her out of the office and up the stairs, toward the safest room in the house—his bedroom.

“Who …? That was Ferno?” Calla spoke quietly from behind.

The sound of her voice shot straight to his dick. “Yeah.” Had he ever needed to have his hands on something so bad in his life?

Not bonded
, he told himself.
Lust
. He simply lusted for Calla because the female did things with her hands that no other female had ever done to him before.

That’d make her a mate, dipshit.

No. A mate meant undergoing Eradis, and the binding of two souls.

“What happened to—”

“Long story.”
Damn, how long did it usually take to get up the stairs?

He dragged Calla behind him, the urgent burning in his body cooled by the rush of knowing that he was seconds from touching her—all night.

His pulse hammered. He’d felt the sensation before, when he’d scored some good shit on the streets and couldn’t find a place to shoot it up fast enough.

“That’s too bad. He’s … not a bad-looking guy … aside from those scars.”

Good thing his room was in sight, because if she kept talking, he’d be pinning her up against the wall right there in the hallway and tearing her panties off with his teeth.

Logan pushed his bedroom door open and entered first, before spinning around and yanking her inside the dark room. “Enough about my brother.”

Pulling her into his body, he closed the door behind them and backed her against it.

Need to touch
.
Now
.

Blackness swallowed them and only the sound of their heavy breaths cut through the silence. Against the door, he lifted her hands, flattening them against the panel with his own.

For a moment, he held her captive, staring into her eyes, then bent forward and breathed in her scent, grinding his hips against her—a slow and demanding war drum beating at her core.

She belonged to him for the night. All his, to do as he pleased.

He shoved himself away from the wall and stripped out of his shirt, tossing it to the floor. Tingles diffused through Logan’s body as he grabbed her chin, lifted her face, and placed his lips to hers.

Instantly, the raging beast inside that drove his need to ravish her calmed, whimpering as it reveled in the softness of her lips.

A guttural sound rumbled in the back of his throat.

Calla.

“When you … kiss me like that, I get so dizzy.” Her whisper tickled his spine. “Feels like I’m falling.”

Lifting her up, he wrapped her legs around him and pinned her against the door. Burying his face into her neck, he kissed the soft flesh there.

The dampness of her panties met his bare stomach and had him imagining that wetness all over his thighs. The smell of her stoked his heat, and saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought of finally tasting her.

Cradling her body, he carried her toward the bed and set her gently on the floor beside it.

Shit was happening. Tonight.

He unlatched his belt and pushed his pants to the floor, kicking them away. Twisting Calla around more gruffly than he’d intended, he yanked off her jacket. With a slip of his finger beneath the hem of her shirt, he tugged it up over her head and threw it to the floor. Unhooking the clasp of her bra sprung her breasts free from their confines.

Calla raised her arms, crossing them over her chest, but he clutched her wrists and forced her hands to her sides.

He stared over her shoulder, down at her exposed pink nipples, licking his lips with an urge to feast on them. “Perfect.”

Wrapping his arms around her midsection, Logan unzipped her pants and pushed them down her thighs, before she lifted her legs and he tossed them aside to join the rest of the discarded clothing.

Her spine passed beneath his fingertip as he drew an invisible line down her back all the way to her tailbone. A sweep along her ass and between her thighs confirmed what he already knew.

Wet.

“I dream of this, Calla,” he whispered in her ear.

“What … do you … dream?”

“Fucking you, mostly. How mind-blowing you’d feel.” His finger rubbed the fabric of her panties, right over her cleft and her body twitched. “What you’d taste like. Your flesh against my tongue.”

Logan smiled at the goose bumps that spread across her skin.

His lips trailed over each vertebrate of her spine, his hands smooth against her curves, until he was on his knees behind her and sliding the white panties over her thighs. He tugged her boots off one at a time before slipping the panties over her ankles and flinging them aside.

He stood once again and backed up a step to admire her body, so tight and small in front of him. Like staring at a work of art, he simply looked without touching—the swells and dips of those curves a satin path his fingers would travel.

He brushed aside her hair and snaked his arm around her neck, forcing her head to the side, exposing her throat.

“Tell me something, Calla.” He spoke low. “You know what an orgasm
feels
like?”

Her body shivered in his grasp. “No,” she whispered back.

“You will after tonight. Many times.” He breathed against her throat. “Do exactly as I tell you.”

He backed himself to the chair and sat down, taking in her tight, rounded ass and the toned muscle of her calves. “Come here.”

She gave a glance over her shoulder before turning and taking two steps toward him until she stood completely naked before him.

Smooth skin slid beneath his palms as he planted a kiss on her navel and urged her to turn by pressing against her hip.

Her shuddering breath told him she felt uneasy.

With her backside facing him, he tugged her down onto his lap, allowing her to ease back onto his chest, and lifted her hands up. As he settled them around the back of his neck, those glorious breasts jutted forward. Her head rested back against his shoulder, in the crook of his neck. Spreading her legs, he set each on his knees, his rock-hard erection pressed into her back.

“Wish I had a mirror,” he whispered. “I want to see you like this.” Keeping his hands on each of her splayed legs, he lightly massaged her inner thighs, closer and closer until they met at her core. Her legs trembled beneath his fingers, innervating like the tingling vibrations along a spider web.

Trapped in his grip, she jerked against his body, as his teeth carved a sinful path down to the crook of her neck and shoulders. There, he kissed her, his other hand sliding to cup her jaw, while two fingers probed the bareness of her cleft.

A soft gasp broke the silence.

Logan released her neck and cupped her breast, thumbing the perfect pink nipple that hardened at his fingertips. “You like when I touch you, don’t you?”

A needy sound passed her lips at the same time her ass squirmed, grinding against his erection, her grip tight around his neck.

“Do you like when I touch you?”

“Yes,” she answered on a breath, her thighs contracting with his ministrations.