Soul Resurrected (Sons of Wrath, #2) (44 page)

* * *

Logan’s stomach turned as he followed her into the bedroom.
Fucking pansy
. He’d been on the verge of tears as she stood holding him in the shower, like a baby.

No female had ever touched him, held him,
got
him like Calla. Like an angel sent to prove him wrong. To show him that his shield wasn’t as tough as he’d thought.

She held the blanket up, coaxing him beside her.

Logan crawled into the bed, keeping his distance at first. Why she wanted anything to do with him, he’d never understand. Like some abused victim shit that had a whole slew of medical terms associated with it.

He grimaced at memory of the visuals that’d passed through his head the moment he’d found heaven with Calla. Like dragging him straight through the flames of hell.

The haze in the boy’s head dissipated and he opened his eyes to the shadowed bedroom. Against the wall, the lithe silhouette of a woman came into focus: long raven’s hair and deadly blood red lips that curved up into a smile.

“How are you feeling, birthday boy?”

What?

His head throbbed, the ache intensifying. As he attempted to rub his temples, the click of chains brought him to the realization he was bound to the bed. His stomach caught in his throat. He glanced around the room, panicked with thoughts of what might’ve been done to him in his sleep.

The last thing he remembered was piercing pain and Demonic words drifting through his head.

The female stepped forward to the foot of his cot.

“I couldn’t be sure how quickly that organ of yours would kick in. I’ve heard once a male bonds, the szexus responds immediately.” She leaned forward. “They say once it’s activated, a demon male could crush a car with his bare hands.” A hint of excitement laced her voice.

Szexus? Bond?
“What are you talking about?” His voice no longer carried the high-pitched innocence of a child, but sounded more like a man—deep and full-toned.

“I see it has already.” Her grin widened.

He lurched against the chains. “What did you do to me?”

“What I had to.” A chasing frisson danced behind her tracing fingertip, as she approached from the side of the bed. “Feel that?”

He squeezed his eyes, willing away the excitement bubbling up inside of him. “What … did you … do?” His clenching jaw shot spasms of pain into his temples.

“I gave you the gift of manhood.”

Darkness settled over his mind, the room turned red, and with the ping of chains, his arms were set free.

He pounced, knocking her back against the bed, and throttled her throat.

His muscles tensed. Daggers of pain pierced his skull as if lodged and twisting into his brain. Nausea burbled in his gut and he opened his eyes to her laughing.

Her bright smile taunted him to squeeze harder until he’d snap her head clean off.

He couldn’t, though.

The pain intensified, spreading from his head to his limbs, turning them flaccid until he was forced to release her just so he could clutch his temples “What the fuck is happening to me?”

The woman rose up onto her elbows. “Silly boy, you can’t kill your own mate.”

Stiff as a board, Logan didn’t move beside Calla. She never spoke a word. The heat of her body reached him and all he wanted to do was pull her into him. Hold her. He couldn’t, though. Not after what she’d seen. What she knew about him. It wouldn’t be long before …

“I won’t ask any questions, Logan.” As if she could read his fucking mind.

“I’m in the dark. I don’t know what I’m doing. Shit’s all foreign to me.”

“When you’re ready, look for me in that darkness, because I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan lay silent. All those memories from his past drudged up from their depths like a flood washing through the cemetery. While his body looked at Calla as a mate, his mind rebelled with images of a past he’d never forget.

* * *

A knock at the door interrupted Calla’s time with Logan before it had even really begun, and she sat up, pulling the sheets over her body. She tucked them under her arms as Logan rose up off the bed and swiped up his pants.

Wrapping them around the exposed half of him, he threw the door open. “The fuck you want?” he said. “Is that lycan blood?”

Ferno took up most of the width of the door. His scarred face held no humor. “Gavin asked for you. His office.” His mangled lip hardly moved as he spoke before his gaze fell on Calla.

Logan tilted his head, placing himself in the bigger demon’s line of sight. “Got it.”

Calla hadn’t fully appreciated how enormous Ferno stood beside Logan, who boasted an easy six foot six himself. He wore dark leathers and a black wife-beater. Two straps across his chest carried some heavy artillery—silver daggers and guns—as if he waited for an attack in his own home. Splashes of black and red, presumably blood, covered his body.

Ferno scratched his jaw and stepped away from the door before Logan slammed it shut.

“I have to go,” he whispered.

Calla nodded. “If this is about finding Zeke, you need to go.” She pulled her knees into her chest. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

His shoulders slumped, he bowed his head and twisted back, but his gaze didn’t meet hers. “Promise me.”

“I promise.”

He threw on a pair of running pants, a muscle shirt and shoes. Pausing beside the bed, he said, “Calla—”

She waited.

“Be right back.”

CHAPTER 34

Logan opened the door to Gavin’s office and stepped inside to all his brothers sitting and, no doubt waiting on him.

“Jesus, man, tone it down.” Mad Dog pulled his shirt across his face, covering his nose. “You’re sporting the scent, Brother. Bad.”

A momentary zap of paralysis clamped Logan’s muscles as he stood in the center of the room. He looked down at himself then back at Mad Dog, who dropped his shirt and winked.

“Just fucking with you.” His grin flaunted a mouthful of perfectly white teeth that Logan could’ve easily shattered with his fist. “But I’m catching a whiff of the bond, yo.”

Shooting the Brother daggers, Logan stalked to an empty chair and fell into it hard. “Next one who says shit to me gets a
fist-to-the-face
treatment.”

“What the hell’s so bad about falling in love with a fine looking female?” Calix asked, the shit-eating smile on his face meant to taunt.

“I’m not in love. Don’t we have more important stuff to talk about, or are you gonna sit and envy my dick all night?”

“Yes. We do have more important matters at hand,” Gavin interrupted.

For the first time, Logan noticed he sat covered in blood, like Ferno had when he knocked for him. Gaze sweeping the room, Logan found Zayne also sporting splotches of black and red. “The hell did you guys do tonight?”

“Paid Moonshines a visit. Turned into a bit of a bloodbath, but we got some information.”

Logan jumped up out of his seat, hands balled into fists. “You didn’t say anything about going there.”

Gavin’s gaze lifted. “I spoke with Ayden and Kane earlier. There’s a young lycan wolf out on the streets, who might know what happened to Zeke. But it seems he’s not the only one. According to Ayden’s contacts, there’s a new trend going with one of the packs. They’re initiating the young boys like gangs.”

“Why?” Logan settled back into his chair.

“Fights, mostly. Underground scene, so no one knows about them. With a little prodding, some nephilim confessed that the lycans are turning the kids, teens mostly, and selling them. Kids make a small profit. That’s not the worst, though.” Gavin rubbed his hand through his hair. “Seems they’re also being paired with teen succubi. Training.”

Groans hit the air.

“You gotta be shitting me.” Calix sat forward, his elbows resting atop his thighs. “A young succubus, without experience, would drain the life right out of a lycan.”

“And so their pimps are making a killing off of souls.” Gavin’s flat tone reflected the weary look in his eyes.

“Sick fucks.” Calix threw himself back against the couch.

“So, what does all this have to do with Zeke?” Mad Dog asked.

“Ryke owns cages,” Calix answered. “He’s a sick fuck, too. Probably owns a brothel of teen succubi.”

“I don’t think it was coincidence that Fatman was found dead at his bar.” Gavin’s chair squeaked as he leaned back. “Drained.”

“Sang.” Logan cleared his throat. “Did a bit of reading.”

“In Orcosia?” Gavin frowned. “You were—”

“Hold up,” Calix interrupted. “Logan
reading
?” He chuckled.

Logan shot a glare at his brother and mouthed the words,
fuck you
.

“Sang?” Mad Dog rubbed his jaw. “Damn.”

Gavin continued, “He has a connection to them. I’m beginning to wonder if the bounty hunter was after something else and Zeke got in its way.” His earnest gaze fell on Logan.

“Calix?” Logan injected his response before Gavin could answer. “For me beating Ryke’s ass.”

“There’s no mistaking Calix for Zeke.” Gavin huffed. “The question that comes to my mind is, why’d he take Calla, too?”

“What are you suggesting?” Logan drew back. “Ryke hired the hunter for Calla?”

“That, I don’t know.” Gavin shook his head. “I can’t figure out what role she plays in all of this. Hunters are very calculated. I think there’s one helluva complicated connection between it, Ryke, the Sang.” His head turned toward Calix. “How’s Ava?”

The expression on Calix’s face morphed and his lips formed a hard line, as if the mere suggestion of Ava’s pain stirred ire in the brother’s blood. “Better. Been sleeping in my bed all day. Drechler gave her some pretty strong meds. She’s up and around now.”

“Good to hear. Don’t push her, but see if she’s got any information that might connect the missing dots.”

Calix nodded. “I’ll try. She’s the most stubborn female I know.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Says she has no idea where to find Ryke. He hasn’t been around.”

The buzzer on the desk sounded and Gavin pressed the intercom.

“Bossman …” Xander’s sinister voice bled through the speaker like he had a smile on his face. “… might wanna come see what I caught snooping around.”

“Be down in a bit.” Gavin’s hand hovered over the button to disconnect.

“Well, considering the fucker can vanish pretty quick, I’d say hurry.”

Gavin froze. “Christ,” he muttered. “I’ll be right down.”

“You need us, Gav?” Calix rose up from the couch.

“No. Sit tight. We’ll see if we can beat some answers out of the shithead and go from there.”

Knowing there was little else to do for the moment, Logan stalked out of the office, his thoughts converging to one place, thanks to Gavin’s words.

Calla. What the hell would Ryke want with her?

Out of nowhere, a lone memory came to mind. The one from his flashback and Wade crouched over Calla’s ravaged body:

I hear you’re humanity’s one-way ticket to freedom from these fucking supes.

He’d thought it nothing but a hallucination, a side effect of his resurrection from the dead. Perhaps, though, it was a memory of Calla’s that had passed through him in the process. An imprint of the lycan venom within the Lywa antibody.

Logan burst through his bedroom door. A brief moment of panic washed through him when he found the bed empty, until he heard the shower flip on. Quick strides had him standing at the bathroom door, and he swung it open.

Calla spun around, and when she tripped backward, his muscles tensed for rescue, but she caught herself on the shower stall and held a hand to her chest.

“Jesus, Logan, you scared me.”

He’d not yet seen her body from a distance, completely exposed. Perfect proportions of muscles stretched from her arms all the way to her legs—muscles he yearned to feel against his palms, tightening and contracting against him.

He closed the space between them and her eyes lit up with a smile.

So beautiful.

He could get lost in that blue. Drown, never to come up for air again.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Instead of answering, he scooped her up into his arms. Calla gave a quiet gasp as he carried her across the room to the sink countertop, where he wedged his hips between her knees and pulled her to the edge until her core fit right where he needed her. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he whispered against her lips. “All this rage and hate inside of me, but one look at you and I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”

She pulled back. “Zeke? Oh, God, is he …”